Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Viktor feels is his leg.

The pain is breathtaking. Cowering in on himself, he desperately clutches it to his chest as the muscles seize. Excruciatingly so. He grits his teeth against a moan and tears spring to his eyes. 

Viktor gasps when he realizes the skin is alive and warm, chafing and bruised. His brace is absent.

That's when he knows it was only a dream. The sinewy purple-gray muscle with rivers of gold, heavy and cold like metal. The vast expanse of color and stars, a hand at the back of his neck. Endless white.

He winces and lays back on the crude, icy floorboards, holding up his hand to the ceiling. He turns it back and forth and wriggles his long, thin fingers with square fingertips and sharp nails. Same as always. He swipes them through his sweat-damp hair and his gaze catches on the time worn sheets spilling off the bed above him. Viktor suddenly realizes he must have fallen in his distress. 

His heart skips a beat. 

But that just can’t be. The dream felt so real. The Arcane and powerful blue light and a name he can’t quite recall on his lips.  

Viktor pulls himself up to a sitting position and massages between his eyes. He’d forgotten where he was for a moment, but when he glances around he realizes it’s his private quarters. There’s no window, and a dirty coal-fire smolders in a primitive fireplace. 

But even so, he can’t shake the dreadful chill that quivers up his aching spine, and Viktor wets his mouth with his tongue as the panic settles heavily in his chest.

The door creaks and someone peeks their head in making Viktor almost jump out of his skin. He recognizes the long blue hair immediately. 

“I haaave it!” Powder sing-songs, eyes half- closed with a self-satisfied grin spread across her face. “I worked on it all night, so your skinny ass better be thankful. I can’t tinker with it anymore or I’ll go crazy.” 

Viktor relaxes slightly.

She puts a hand on her hip and cocks her head in annoyance then rolls her eyes, blowing a piece of fallen hair from her face. “Silco’s already pissed off, and the damn Pilties haven’t even shown up yet.” 

" Powder ?” he asks shakily, cheeks growing hot and an uneasy feeling he can’t explain making his mind swim. Viktor clutches his knees to his chest in an effort to hide his gaunt nakedness. Powder takes one look at him and frowns, her thin brows suddenly creasing with intense concern. 

“Vik,” she murmurs tenderly, resting his back brace on the seat of his worn upholstered chair. She rushes to him. 

Powder’s hands hover over him and Viktor resents the look of pity that washes over her pixie features. “What the hell happened?” 

Viktor shakes his head suddenly realizing he has no idea. It felt so real; the warmth of someone’s skin against his, his vision whiting out, a magic filled rune in his hand. Then, a voracious pull tearing at his seams and after...nothing at all.

“I don’t know,” he whispers truthfully. “I think I had a nightmare. Or maybe it's the arcane trying to tell me something.” Powder grips him under his biceps and pulls him upwards. He falls back on the bed and drapes a sheet over his lap. 

She raises an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you hit your head or something?” she asks skeptically. “You aren’t trying anything, are you? Before the—-well, you know—“ 

No , Viktor thinks morbidly. Not that he hasn’t spent hours scouring his tomes for potential possibilities. But Powder doesn’t need to know that.

Powder must see it written all over his face anyway because she softens. She kicks the leg of his bed gently with a dirty boot, appearing all together awkward.

“Look—-Vik,” she sighs. “I know feelings and all that aren’t really our thing. But you can talk to me, ya know, if you want. This whole thing Silco’s conjured up really is the fucking pits.” 

She falls to the bed next to him, slouching forward with her hands clasped between her legs. Viktor can only stare at her, his eyes surely wide as saucers. 

Powder twists her mouth and focuses on the back brace instead of his face. “You want me to help you?” 

Viktor clasps the sheet around his waist tighter, adamantly shaking his head. 

“No, no. I am perfectly capable.” 

“I know, Vik,” Powder says, her gaze gentle in a way that makes Viktor uncomfortable. He shifts under her scrutiny. 

“Look,” she continues anyway. “I know I’m just your dumb little sister. And you’ve been with Silco for way longer than me. But for what it’s worth—I think you’re gonna do great. I was skeptical, but I really don’t think Silco would lead Zaun wrong.” She rests a hand on his wrist. "Or you."

Viktor sighs. He can feel the arcane tremble and the weight of the day is already making him want to lock himself away in his workshop until the tops of the buildings steal the sunlight again. He had tried to convince Silco that he was more useful to Zaun staying here and continuing his research, but that was never to be. It’s his duty, he’d said. As his beneficiary. As a Zaunite. As the most formidable mage Runeterra has seen in nearly a century. The magic has always been strong in him, ever since he was a child, when he had no idea what it was. 

Everyone keeps telling him he’s the key to fixing everything. But Viktor can’t help but think it’s nothing but a burden he never asked for. Or wanted. His passion is science and helping his people live better, healthier lives. New measures and medicines to help other people like him. Hopes for a future in Zaun free of shimmer addiction and desperately needed medicines for the sick. 

Sure, his magic helped with that sometimes, but this responsibility is something he does not want. Sometimes he wonders what his life might have been like, if Silco and Singed had never found him in that burning hovel he thinks he called home. Where would he be if his parents were alive and he could remember them? Where would he be if Piltover and Zaun had never gone to war, and he was able to realize his dreams of studying at The Academy?

Powder doesn’t wait for him to respond before she’s up, as if she can feel his gloom. She grabs the iron scuttle and throws some more coal on the fire, then heads to the door. 

“Oh,” she announces, turning around. “Silc’ said you’ll find the new clothes in your closet. He wants to see you as soon as you're dressed.” 

Viktor doesn’t say anything. Only nods, sighing in relief when she steps out of the room, leaving him to himself for a few moments longer. 

He scrubs a hand roughly over his face before taking a moment to massage his leg, then makes his way towards where Powder has left the back brace she’d mended for him. He limps heavily even with his cane, the stiffness of sleep still gripping his joints. The brace is rather new, and he and Powder have been trying out a few different designs these past months. This one is the best they’ve come up with so far after many recommendations from Singed. 

With a nervous hand he retrieves the clothing Silco had made especially for the ceremony today. His breath hitches in his throat when he sees them. It’s the most extravagant piece of clothing he’s ever owned; a long wine colored tunic with a neckline so low his brace will show. It’s lined with gold stitching to match the colors of Silco and Vander’s crest, and adorned with a hood that usually accompanies mage ceremonial wear. 

Except this hood has a glittering veil attached to the front to hide his face, a dark fabric that reflects the firelight like glittering stars. A now archaic practice to be sure, hiding a Zaun girl’s face as she makes her way down the aisle to a man she’s never met. 

Viktor has never laid eyes upon his match before, a king in all but name, but he’s heard all the stories like everyone else. Descendant of a tribe from Freljord. His mother married into a lower house known for tool making, and he rose his way up through the hierarchy of Piltover society. His city, when he came of age, was built on iron and ash, and the broken backs of Zaun’s miners. They say he’s a great innovator. A man obsessed with magic ever since he was touched by it as a child. 

It is no accident why Viktor was chosen. 

And yet, Viktor isn’t sure how to feel being placed into such a draconian situation without any type of input on the matter. He is an orphan of The Fissures, a cripple raised by the streets and taken in by a miner turned “Lord of the Chem-Barons”, only to discover with his manhood came the ancient magic most in Runeterra had thought lost to the annals of time. The freedoms his misshapen body took away, his magic gave back to him. Even though he mourned science no longer being a priority, he threw himself whole-heartedly into his studies and experiments, all of them suddenly becoming vitally important when war struck. 

Now, he will be consort to  Jayce Talis, Heir Apparent and Sovran of Piltover. Viktor’s role and expectations will be the same as any other Highborn wife, no matter how he sees himself or what his dreams consist of. He fears he’ll be subjected to sneers and contempt. A nameless, low-born cripple only sought out to end an unpopular, resource-draining war, and in turn satiate their Sovran’s famed infatuation with magic. He'll be nothing but an amulet to those people, a fetish, The Eye of Zaun’s bejeweled whore. 

Viktor cruelly examines his naked body in the mirror. He rubs a palm over his drawn belly and jutting hips. He’s the same as ever; frightfully thin and as plain as a pikestaff. One shoulder is tightly muscled and his spine crooked from leaning on his cane. His skin is pale and littered with a scattering of moles and bruises. There are old white scars marring his sternum and back and the calf of his twisted leg. All from Singed’s experimental surgeries. The most recent of those now leaves him with unseemly screws up his spine and along his breastbone. 

Viktor sighs and presses fragrant oil under his arms and in between his legs before pulling a comb through his sleep-wild tendrils. He brushes the pressed starch powder he keeps on a table next to the chair over his torso then affixes his back brace using a small tool that reaches the clasps situated on the back. It takes him a few tries, but after glancing over his shoulder in the mirror he is able to attach it to the screws. He grunts at the straightening and pressure, then he pulls on his small clothes and dark trousers as well as the wine colored tunic. 

He was correct. The tunic falls just above his knee with slits at each side rising high on the hip, and the collar opens into a low ‘v’. The gold and leather of the front of his brace is visible, maybe as a way to show off Zaunite ingenuity. He can’t be sure and he doesn't even think anyone will think it anything but decorative. Yet, it only leaves Viktor feeling horribly exposed. It seems the veiled hood might be a great comfort to him after all. 

Viktor fastens the buckles of the thick decorative belt Vander provided tightly around the smallest part of his waist. It’s complete with hanging gold chains on one side that attach to Silco and Vander’s familiar family emblem, a small circular plate with lineaments that burst out in all directions like a star. Inside that is the outline of a howling hound with one large eye, its pupil a small shining ruby that connotes Silco’s scarred iris. Viktor has never worn anything so fine as this gilded shackle. 

He slumps in his chair, clenching his jaw against the sudden emotion that pains his throat. With an intake of breath and quiet ritual, Viktor pulls on his thin dress socks and fastens his boots with his button hook, then he pulls his brace on his outstretched leg like armor, and leans heavily on his cane, rising to catch one final glimpse of himself in the desilvering mirror.

There’s a light rap at the door that startles him. 

“Viktor,” Silco’s low, slithering voice calls from the other side. “It’s us.” 

The door gently opens and Silco and Vander enter. 

He’s taken aback by the emotion flooding their faces. Vander smiles broadly at him, resting a gentle hand on Silco’s thin shoulder. 

“My boy,” Silco beams. “You look marvelous.” 

Viktor blushes, bowing his head as he makes his way towards them. He stretches his arms out. “A little showy, no?” he jokes lightly, even as he has to bite his lip to cease it from quivering. 

“Not at all, Vik,” Vander gushes, his voice deep and fond. “You’re moving up in the world, aren’t ya?” 

“It’s a special day,” Silco adds. “You are the key to peace with Piltover. I don’t see how you are deserving of anything less.” 

Vander pulls him to his chest in a quick embrace. “We’re proud of you.” 

Silco’s head tilts and his eyes soften in a way they rarely ever do. “We understand the sacrifice you are making, child. What you are doing for Zaun will never go uncelebrated. I assure you. And--this is a way to ensure your safety. Protection from the criminals that endlessly try to usurp me.” 

He sniffs and turns away from Viktor before he can respond. “Now—,” he says, heading back into the hall. “Won’t you come along. The Piltover carriage has arrived. Vi, Ekko, and Sevika will escort you, and Vander and I will follow behind with Powder. And don't worry, all of your things will be packed and transported tomorrow.” 

Vander releases him and Viktor takes one last look around his room. He will miss his refuge for the past twenty years. He straightens his shoulders as best he can, fighting off the pain that shoots from spine to leg, then he pulls his hood over his head, hiding himself away behind the dark, shimmering veil. 

He keeps his eyes on the wide expanse of Vander’s strong back. Silco bows his head slightly and lets him pass. 

“The Sovran awaits.” 

Chapter Text

It’s the violins that announce their arrival. 

Jayce finds himself standing at the altar in Piltover’s most magnific cathedral, staring at the marble and steel with his hands clasped behind his back, and trying not to pace. 

Sunlight filters through stained glass rose windows, painting the cold statues of long forgotten saints, mages, and sorceresses in myriads of color. The air feels hot and close. Lit candles bathe the room in soft hues of orange and yellow. They cover every flat surface, wax shining and dripping over ledges. 

It would all be rather beautiful, if it wasn’t part of a pompous show of political theater. Meticulously calculated and planned by the Council to finally end the war, further legitimize his position, and as they put it, “Keep a potential weapon in their care.”

Jayce can’t say he wasn’t intrigued by the young mage that had risen up from the Fissures. And he’s well aware having him on the wrong side of a war was not ideal. But— marrying him? It seems preposterous. 

He had been attached to his father’s ward, Mel, ever since they were children. When they came of age, a natural affection grew between them. She was beautiful, no doubt, and the smartest person he’d ever met. She was formidable with her Light Magic, bound to the Black Rose, and had a way of keeping the Council in line. His father was adamant having Noxious blood would lead to a strong bloodline, all supported and protected by Ambessa, one of the strongest Warlords Runeterra had ever seen. 

He could have been happy, he thinks. It would have been so easy.

And then it was all torn down in a single second. His father was killed, caught in the line of fire on the bridges, and everything changed. He rose into power and then Mel had removed herself from their engagement without a whisper of warning, supporting the Council’s plan. 

A plan consisting of a laying down of arms, a trade treaty, and a marriage. 

When he cornered Mel afterwards, she couldn’t even look at him. Tears flooded her eyes as he rubbed his thumb over her plush mouth, begging her for some kind of explanation. 

“My hands are tied,” she whispered, gently pushing his hand away. “Things are different now.” 

“But I am The Sovran,” he gritted out. “And I chose you.” 

“I was only a convenience,” she argued. “Nothing more. Your father is dead. And if we are to keep Piltover safe, keep our people from being run down by Silco and his army of trenchers, this is what must be done. It is your duty. My mother wants me to take on more responsibility representing Noxian, and the Council wants my mother’s war machines. I cannot see another way, Jayce. We all have our part to play. I am bound by my honor.”

Then her eyes softened and she brushed a hand along his cheek. “No matter how much affection grew between us.” 

Jayce shoves the memory away, gritting his teeth and standing at attention when the looming doors at the far end of the aisle open. All of Piltover High Society that is seated in the ornate pews rises when the organ bellows their arrival.

The Enforcers that escort the Zaunites are dressed in their formalwear carrying ceremonial staffs. As they move to their posts, Silco and Vander move down the aisle with straight backs. Their attire is formal as well, though distinctly from Zaun, and they appear rugged and misplaced against the smooth silks and robes that adorn his people.

Jayce raises his chin as they approach. The two men bow before him and move to the side, followed by what appears to be their daughters and a few security officers. 

His heart jumps in his throat when the music changes again. The organ stops suddenly and soft strings begin playing the bridal march, a haunting and slow melody older than Piltover itself. There are soft sighs and whispers as the crowd turns its attention to the back of the church once more. Jayce shifts on his feet, unable to tear his eyes away. 

The stranger is there, suddenly enshrouded in the dim light as the doors shut behind him. He pauses, and it feels as if the entire room has held its breath. 

Jayce looks to Mel, his mother, the Council members to ground himself, but everyone’s attention is fixed on the mysterious figure. 

He steps forward slowly and Jayce realizes he is using a cane. He might think it decorative, but from the way the man’s body leans to one side slightly makes him think not. 

Jayce squints. The red tunic he’s wearing has a hood with a dark netted veil that hides his face. Even with his features hidden, it’s more revealing than anything a man in Piltover might wear, with its wide, low cut neckline that shows off some type of gold and leather undergarment. 

He isn’t exceptionally tall. And very thin, with collarbones that jut out, splayed out wide towards pointed shoulders. His cane echoes gently through the high ceilings and people whisper and sneer as he passes. Jayce grits his teeth in annoyance. 

His betrothed bows slightly when he reaches the stairs to the altar and then whispers something to himself before ascending.

Jayce’s mind is reeling and yet he feels frozen. The priest clears his throat and he can finds himself staring. 

The stranger is actually a full head or more shorter than he is, and delicate like a bird. Fragile even. Jayce can see now that he wears a leg brace.

So the rumors were true , Jayce thinks. A cripple. 

He blinks, studying where the glittering dark veil covers the man’s face. He can see the shadow of the angles of his features, but nothing is clear. Jayce wonders if he might be hiding some sort of facial deformity like Silco. 

Jayce’s heartbeat ticks faster, the realization this is the person he’ll be partnered with for the rest of his life. He’s never even been with a man. The thought had never occurred to him when Mel was so beautiful and interesting and always pushed toward him since they were children.

Every single thing about this stranger is foreign to him, and the reality of what will be expected turns his stomach with dread.   

The priest clears his throat, dragging Jayce out of his spiraling, anxious thoughts.

We are gathered on this day, in front of The Wolf and The Lamb

To witness the union between 

Our Great Sovran, Jayce of House Talis to Viktor, a Child of Zaun

This union will enter us into a new Dawn, 

Ensure Unending Peace between our two cities

And there will be no more bloodshed 

Only Magic and Bounteous Life 

For all of Piltover and Zaun’s Citizens

Viktor does not make a sound. He does not move as the Priest says his sermon, but he can hear an intake of breath when the man asks for the rings. 

“Now,” he says, handing a gold band to him. “Repeat after me—,”

Do you, Viktor, Son of Silco and Vander of Zaun, take Jayce,

our Lord and Heir Apparent, And accept the oath of marriage.

To bind your Self to him, and live as one?

For now and until the end of your days?

“Yes,” Viktor says, his voice low and quiet. “I am bound.” 

An accent Jayce can’t place adds a gentle lilt and sharpness to his words. He bites his lip when Viktor’s shaking fingers take hold of him. They feel cold and small in his hand. He slides the ring on, and Jayce’s eyes catch in disbelief at the cane still standing by his side, as if welded to the ground. 

Do you, Jayce, Great Sovran of Piltover, accept the oath of marriage, to Viktor.

To bind your Self to him, and live as one?

For now and until the end of your days?

Sweat pools at the small of his back and his mouth turns dry with nerves, but he schools his face into something he hopes is controlled. 

Jayce offers his hand, skin prickling when Viktor rests his hand lightly in his palm, muscles relaxed and fingers pliant as Jayce slides the ring onto his fourth finger. He notices then that Viktor’s nails are long and he has thin markings tattooed along each finger and on the outside of his palm, trailing up his wrist and disappearing beneath the sleeve of his tunic.

He’s all together strange, Jayce thinks before he can stop it.

Jayce has met many Zaunites in the course of his life and reign, but there is something uniquely alien about this man he now calls bridegroom. There is a transcendent air about Viktor, as if the arcane longs for him, and it’s fascinating and terrifying all at once.

It is with the powers vested in me 

And the Authority of the Council of Piltover

That I now pronounce you Wed  

In the eyes Of Kindred, 

In the hearts of the Wolf and the Lamb,

You are Bound 

Now and Forevermore.

This contract shall be sealed with a kiss.

Jayce lets out a shaky breath and releases Viktor’s hand. The mage grips his cane once more. 

He waits. 

Jayce steps closer, feeling too large and too hot under all his layers of finely stitched formalwear. He takes hold of both sides of Viktor’s hood, using his thumb to brush the veil back from his face. The hood falls back, and he is revealed. 

Jayce’s heart stutters. 

Startling amber eyes glowing in the flickering candlelight, almost feline in their shape and tilted slightly upwards, peek at him curiously. His nose is long and finely boned. His cheeks are harshly angled towards a pensive mouth, caught up in the moving shadows. He drags his teeth along his bottom lip nervously. 

Knowing every eye is on him, Jayce pushes forward without further thought. His mind races, but he drags his fingers gently over the stranger’s cheek, capturing his lips in a kiss. It is dry and chaste and the shocking chill of Viktor’s skin even in this warm room makes a shiver tremble through him. 

Jayce’s ears turn hot and he immediately retreats, stepping backwards as light applause fills the room. Viktor doesn’t look at him. He turns his head down and avoids Jayce’s eyes. 

“The Sovran and His Consort, of House Talis,” the priest announces with an uncharacteristic zeal. With his cue, the crowd’s praise turns more eager and loud. 

Jayce looks to Mel, but she still avoids his gaze. He then looks to his mother, who claps and nods approvingly, the emotion in her eyes surprising. The Council appears pleased, and even his court, many of whom, sniveled at the oddity that was Viktor as he passed, now seem smiling and jovial. 

Jayce offers Viktor his arm and his skin tingles when his thin fingers wrap around his bicep. It is a strange feeling, being on the other side of the marriage vows. He’s been dreading this day since the Council had decided, and now that it is done, the realization that he is truly married to this stranger falls heavily over him. He glances at the man beside him, profile slightly hidden behind his wavy tendrils. 

Viktor still has to lean on his cane for his bad leg and it’s slightly awkward as they make their way down the aisle. But they manage, and the heavy doors open up. Jayce squints against the sunlight, overwhelmed by the sigh of the hundreds of citizens gathered. Violins play again and streamers fall down from the sky. There hasn’t been such a spectacle since his coronation.

Viktor’s fingers tighten around his arm and Jayce can’t tell if it’s the steps or all of the people. They are quickly ushered into a steam carriage. Viktor has trouble bending his leg high enough on the step and Jayce makes a mental note to look into having foldable steps made. The last thing he needs is the newspapers’ commentary if Viktor happens to fall. 

Jayce folds into the carriage behind him. He’s tempted to sit facing Viktor, but with the Council in the back of his mind, he chooses instead to sit beside him. An Enforcer shuts the door, and they are left to their silence. 

Worrying the soft spot of his hand with his thumb, he opens and shuts his mouth, unable to think of anything to say. Viktor’s hand, willowy and graceful, massages his thigh. 

“It is— so bright,” he says quietly with his unfamiliar, lanced accent.  

Jayce chews on the inside of his cheek nervously. Viktor continues gazing out the window as the driver takes them towards his estate next to the Academy. 

He clears his throat. “Do you—-have you ever been to Piltover before?” 

Viktor hums noncommittally. “Maybe once–as a child. But I can’t recall.” 

“You’re a man of science, correct ? You never attended Progress Day?” 

Viktor looks at him then, brow creased, but his expression is not unkind. “I have never had the privilege. Though, I was quite intrigued.” 

“Well—we will have to go in the summer,” Jayce blurts. 

A smile, the first, tugs at one side of Viktor’s mouth. “You are obligated to attend, yes?” 

Jayce huffs a small chuckle. That hadn’t crossed his mind. “Well—-yes. We will have to attend the Academy Head’s speech and the Ribbon Ceremony.” 

Viktor twists his mouth. “Mmm— we ,” he says, as if he’s just now ruminating on the concept. 

They don’t speak again for the rest of the journey. 

Chapter Text

The roar of people is entirely overwhelming. 

Viktor has never seen anything like it. They gather and cheer on rooftops and alleys and along the river. Enforcers clad in their righteous uniforms form a blockade to keep citizens from encroaching any closer as Viktor and Jayce are whisked inside an ornate stone building. 

His skin pricks underneath his clothes when his stranger-husband’s hand rests against the small of his back. His grip is strong and gentle. It’s what Viktor assumes is some kind of public gesture of union and protection to his people. Viktor is unused to being touched, and it leaves him even more flustered.

He leans heavily on his cane on the final step, and then is stopped by Jayce with a hand gripping his wrist. 

When he looks up from the ground he notices a group of very official looking beings, whom he assumes are the Council. They examine them expectantly. 

Jayce leans in, and Viktor is again startled by his sudden closeness. He can’t help but gawk at the strange silver markings that sweep across his forehead like a crown. Though he'd noticed them before, Viktor can now feel the arcane’s presence beckoning the closer Jayce gets, and an overwhelming curiosity stirs in him.

Jayce creases his brow with a look of confusion on his face before whispering near his ear with gritted teeth. “They want us to acknowledge the crowd.” 

Viktor glances about, his stomach turning, heart rate quickening, and thoughts jumbled and half-formed. 

“There’s so many of them,” he says through what he hopes is a sufficiently friendly expression towards the crowd.

Apparently not. 

“Relax your face,” Jayce chastens. “You look as if I am taking you hostage.” 

Viktor twists his mouth and then forces a smile as best he can, offers them a small wave. The crowd wails and all he can do is blink in shock. 

Viktor tries to keep his mouth still. “You essentially are—-,” he says smartly, not even caring if it’s out of line. 

Jayce’s fake smile falters from his face and Viktor turns to regard him fully, discovering he is gawking at him as if he's insane. 

Before Viktor can say anything, there’s a loud pop and a flash. Then another and another. 

Newspaper photographers. 

Kristos, Viktor swears inwardly. He doesn’t even want to know what those photos will look like. And splattered across the front page of both Piltover and Zaun’s biggest newspapers? He wishes Kindred would just take him away this instant. Surely death is better than this humiliation. 

Feeling hot all over, Viktor follows Jayce inside, away from the crowd. They are ushered into a great hall. It is probably cold as stone on a normal day, but this afternoon it is lit by many candles. Long tables are decorated with gorgeous white and burgundy flowers Viktor has never seen the likes of, each place setting arranged just so. 

So much finery in one place makes Viktor’s skin itch. It feels bizarre and wrong. Especially for a day like this, an agreement made by other people that has now decided what the rest of Viktor’s entire life will look like. What he will wear, what his magic will be used for, what he will believe, advocate for, who he will crawl into bed with. 

It makes him feel cheap; like an ornament passed around to the highest bidder. And maybe that’s true. 

He’d never known his father, and the only memory Viktor has of his mother is how she smelled of musk and smoke and the flash of sunlight on her lifeless, pale face.  

It is hard to know one’s self when the space where you’d hold those memories and feelings is empty. He comes from nowhere. Has no place in the world. No name or title. Why shouldn’t he be treated as such? 

Can he really blame them? 

“This way,” a servant says, startling Viktor from his wandering thoughts.

There is no hand on his back this time as they are led to their place, a long banquet table with only two chairs placed in the middle.

“My lord,” the young man dressed in a fine uniform says with a bow. 

Jayce thanks him and pulls out a chair for Viktor. He balances his cane on the table and takes his seat, feeling like a fish out of water. The longer this goes on, the more obvious it will become. 

Jayce takes his place next to him, and Viktor gazes out at the members of his court filing in. They take champagne flutes from wait staff’s outstretched hands and huddle in groups before taking their seats. The reviling snickers and whispers will only worsen through the night as they toast, he's sure of it.

Viktor drums his fingers along the table, studying how a rose petal so fluidly changes from cream to apricot. So healthy and green. It dawns on Viktor that he’ll have access to gardens and greenhouses, access to roots and herbs and plants he’d never dreamed of. It could mean wonders for his magic.

A champagne flute appears in front of him. 

Viktor blinks rapidly. 

“You look like you could use this,” Jayce says, and Viktor’s gaze snags on his smile; big and real for the first time today, and that is when he notices he has a small gap between his two front teeth. It is alarmingly charming. 

The night wears on and Viktor and Jayce are approached by family after family paying their respects. It’s tedious work, and Jayce is on his fifth champagne by the time they are through. Viktor had to stop at three as walking to his bedroom might quickly turn into a concern. He hasn’t ever been known as one who can hold his liquor, something Powder and Vi endlessly teased him about. 

He spots them sitting in the corner with Silco and Vander, Ekko, and Singed. They seem to be having an okay time at least. Another servant or advisor peddles up behind Jayce and whispers something in his ear to which he nods and then clinks his glass. 

The entire room, including the musicians, immediately fall silent. 

“Silco and Vander,” Jayce announces, his voice clear and commanding. “---Would like to offer my betrothed a wedding gift.”

He nods his head to them, and they approach with Singed. 

Viktor’s heart patters nervously in his chest. They had not informed him of this. 

Vi and Powder are smiling at him from their seats, and it makes Viktor blush. 

Silco offers a small bow. “We have a small wedding gift for our son, my Lord. As a sign of our love as well as Zaun’s devotion to the success of this marriage.” 

Silco glances at him with a rare fondness and it tugs a smile from Viktor. “Singed has been working hard on this for you, Vik.” 

Singed steps forward and pulls something from the inside of his jacket. Viktor sucks in a breath. 

It can’t be. 

It’s a small pink creature, smooth skinned and salamander-like in body. He chirps and circles around Singed’s neck excitedly, jumping onto Vander’s shoulder. Vander chuckles and holds it in his palm, approaching their table. 

Vander looms over their table and smiles down at him lovingly. “Just like the one that was lost, kid,” he says, mouth twitching with emotion. Viktor’s lip quivers as he makes eye contact with the tiny creature. 

The whole room awes like a quiet sigh. Jayce stares wide-eyed beside him. 

She purrs and screeches, her big green eyes taking up most of her infant face. She immediately climbs up Viktor’s arm and slithers around his neck, perching on his shoulder. 

Viktor swallows, mouth falling open in shock. “How?” he asks, peering at Singed questioningly. 

“I’ve been hard at work in the lab while you conducted your own studies,” Singed says quietly. “She is a clone.” He gazes at Viktor pointedly. “A healthy clone.” 

“Healthy–,” Viktor sighs. Singed approaches and offers the purple moonspear flower. Its bioluminescence looks obscene in the soft royal light. Viktor takes it gingerly. 

“She is no longer necessary for my research,” Singed says. “But she still likes them.” 

Rio purrs in his ear at the sight of the flower, nuzzling under his jaw. 

Viktor turns the flower over in his hand, and then he offers it to Jayce. Jayce pulls his hand back instinctually, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in question. But his gaze catches on Viktor’s and he recovers quickly. Viktor hopes he sees this as an offer of public unity just like his show of physical affection in front of the cameras. The people of Zaun will delight in reading this in the papers. 

He pushes it towards Jayce expectantly. 

Jayce takes the flower, and Rio crawls down Viktor’s arm, her pointed nails tickling his skin. Without warning, she jumps and climbs up Jayce’s fine frock coat stitched in gold and cream and burgundy. He chuckles, the sound light and airy and completely involuntary. 

He pushes the flower towards Rio’s mouth who slurps it up happily leaving Jayce’s hand wet with slobber. His face pinches in perplexed disgust as he examines his hand, and Viktor can’t help the gentle chuckle that bubbles up in him. He covers his mouth, petting Rio’s head where she perches back on his shoulder. The nuzzle she offers him gives him more comfort than he could have ever imagined. He blinks away the tears that spring to his eyes, embarrassed. 

Jayce smiles at the creature. “She suits you,” he says, and Viktor can’t decipher the expression on his face. “What’s to be her name?” 

“Rio,” Viktor says, frowning when a servant comes to take her away. 

The Council approaches. 

“She’ll be well taken care of,” a stately Yordle pronounces, climbing up on a box in front of them. The rest of the Council circles around his Zaunite family. They bow away, their faces alarmed and confused at the intrusion and unease shoots coldly up Viktor’s spine. 

Rio is taken away, disappearing behind a curtain, and he frantically looks to Jayce. His merriment is suddenly snuffed from his face, and he eyes the Council with grave rectitude.

A man with a beard addresses the room. “It is time for the Bedding!” he announces, raising his hands fervidly. The people of Jayce’s Court exclaim and applaud, some even whistle and hoot with excitement. 

Silco and Vander retreat back to their table, and Viktor searches for Powder and Vi. They sit with Ekko, their eyes are wide as they stare at the crowd. Silco frowns, his face turning into a scowl, and Viktor realizes he is aware of what’s about to happen. 

The crowd breaks out into a bawdy song, clapping joyously. 

Jayce takes hold of Viktor’s wrist and squeezes. Viktor searches his face to find him intensely apprehensive and his cheeks crimson. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get it out he’s suddenly whisked away by a group of people. They take hold of his chair and carry him over their heads. Jayce clamors to the chair, looking for Viktor behind him. 

Viktor loses sight of him as he’s taken away by the sea of people, and then he’s also suddenly in the air. It happens so fast, he can’t even grab hold of his cane. He clings to the chair, unable to see his family, who is holding him, or where Jayce is. 

Two large doors slam open ahead of him and they are whisked down a grand hallway. It’s candlelit and filled with huge, lush oil paintings, obsolete armor, and relics of Piltover’s past inventions. He floats down the hall as if taken away by the rapids of a river and then they go up an opulent circular stairwell and Viktor loses his bearings.

Another set of doors open and he and Jayce are set down with song and laughter before a large lavish four post bed decorated in crisp white sheets and a flowing canopy of gauzy fabric. There’s a fire in the intricately carved fireplace and two small candles on each bedside, but otherwise the room is blanketed in darkness. 

Their chairs are taken from them and Jayce looms over Viktor, breathless and his fists clenched. He watches as the court members circle around them and then leave, the doors shutting with a slam. Viktor flinches, leaning on his good leg heavily. The fire crackles loudly between them and his heart pounds in his chest so loud, he’s sure Jayce can hear it.

Jayce steps forward. “I wanted to talk with you—,” he stutters slightly, before inhaling a deep breath. “Before—this all happened.”

He gestures with his hand towards the bed before resting it on Viktor’s shoulder. Jayce thumbs along the tight muscle there. “I don’t know how much you’ve been told about our customs –what Silco–uhm–informed you of.” 

He ducks his head to catch Viktor’s gaze intently, as if he really wants him to pay attention. Viktor licks his lips nervously, his mind racing and the ache still in his chest wondering where Rio had gone to.  

Jayce clears his throat. “It’s going to be—”

He can’t finish his sentence. There is the noise as if another door is opening, startling them both. Jayce pulls his hand away from Viktor like he’s been burned. They both look to the source of the commotion. 

It isn’t a door after all, but a wall. It has opened up and then to Viktor’s horror the council members file in. 

Silco had certainly not informed him of any of this. All he told Viktor was that he was likely expected to consummate on the wedding night. Something Viktor was already utterly terrified of. He hasn’t been intimate with anyone in over a decade. Then, his leg wasn’t as bad and his spine hadn’t started twisting yet. Then, he hadn’t been consumed by his magic.

Even so, the experiences he did have were rather limited, and if he was quite honest, not anything he could really comprehend being what they wrote poetry about. What drove people to madness and jealously. Quite frankly, Viktor did not get it. 

Jayce sucks in a breath and he and Viktor watch the Council slowly make their way to the far corner of the room, disappearing into the shadows. They are so covered in darkness you would not even know they were there save for a shuffling of fabric, their breathing, or the periodical mechanical turn of a gear. 

The fire cracks again. Viktor burns all over, gazing helplessly at Jayce. 

Jayce’s eyes flutter shut as if he’s in pain and he sighs loudly, moving another step closer.

It takes all of Viktor’s strength not to retreat. 

It is helpless anyway. He would not get very far without his cane. So Viktor raises his chin in defiance, leering at Jayce solemnly and desperately trying to control how he trembles. 

Let him take. 

It is what Pilties have always done. And how artful they are at it. Masters of taking what they think is theirs. 

Viktor is nothing but another object they can claim. 

His breath hitches in his throat when Jayce reaches out. The man appears unsure. Nervous. But there’s an anger raging just below the surface that Viktor finds alarming. 

He stands frozen as Jayce tucks his hair behind his ear. The heat roars off of him and the fire equally, and then he speaks to Viktor softly. 

“I am going to undress you,” he states, so even and quiet that only he can hear. “Then we’ll lie on the bed.”

Jayce pulls away then, and without further explanation reaches for Viktor’s belt. When he sighs it is raspy and his hands tremble as he undoes the buckles, yet he keeps his shoulders straight and his expression calm. 

The leather falls to the ground in a heap and then Jayce works at unclasping his tunic. It slides off Viktor’s shoulders with ease, but Jayce’s brow creases as he finally takes in Viktor’s back brace fully. His gaze roams over the leather and gold bolted to his spine. 

He drags his fingers along it curiously, before quickly retreating and deciding to work on unbuttoning Viktor’s trousers. 

Viktor sighs out, the sensation of his touch already too intimate and wholly overwhelming. 

“My brace,” Viktor forces out shakily, tapping the metal on his leg. 

“Oh,” Jayce notes awkwardly then quickly drops to his knees. He unclasps around Viktor’s foot first, then his knee, and then more carefully he slides his hands up either side of Viktor’s thigh, finding the clasps at the top. 

Viktor takes hold of Jayce’s broad shoulder so he can shift his weight, all the while staring frantically into the dark corner. It’s extremely disorienting and his whole body crawls with knowing that they watch him. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Jayce unbuttons each boot then swiftly removes Viktor’s socks. The lushly woven rug feels foreign and warm on his feet.

Jayce hesitates on the floor for a moment. There is a long pause, and then a dispirited sigh before he stands up, effortless and smooth. His quick movement makes the hair on the back of Viktor’s neck stand on end, every nerve in his body on high alert.  

Without warning, Jayce takes hold of him behind his knees and along his back, pulling him into a bridal carry as if he weighs nothing. The unexpected twist and stretch of his leg and spine sends a bolt of pain through his body and he gnashes his teeth together to keep from moaning.

Jayce walks them to the side of the bed furthest from the regnant voyeurs, and sets him atop the soft down. Viktor feels remarkably insignificant gazing up at the staggering figure that is his stranger-husband, a heavy brow shading unreadable dark eyes.

The moment suspends in agony as Jayce hesitates again. Viktor can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t get his heart to stop racing like a captured rabbit. Jayce leans in, feigning a kiss along the side of his mouth and cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Then he’s standing again and unfastening his necktie, unbuttoning his shirt, and removing his jacket. His strange silver markings flicker in the firelight.

Kindred help him.

“Lie back,” he commands firmly.

Viktor is unfit to do anything but obey. 

Chapter Text

Jayce's small clothes

Viktor's Pants

His thinness is shocking. 

Jayce’s heart pounds in his chest, and he tries to quell the roaring anger that makes his head ache. He glares defiantly into the darkness as he undoes the rest of his clothing until he is left in nothing but his woolen small clothes. 

Viktor is laid back, naked except for his half-undone trousers, hands fiddling with the straps and grooves of the strange brace he wears around his torso. Jayce has no idea how to undo it, or if Viktor can even be without it, so he did not make an effort to even try to take it off. 

His eyelids flutter between terrified peeks at Jayce’s body as he undresses. Generally, he avoids looking at him, choosing to study the ceiling, the intricate wooden headboard, the fire flickering across rich wood paneled room. His bad leg is angled awkwardly where his legs hang off the bed and it looks extremely uncomfortable. 

Jayce closes his eyes and turns his head to the ceiling, releasing a shuddering breath and a prayer before forcing himself forward. 

He stands in between Viktor’s legs, fumbling with the last buttons of his dark pants. The muscles of his belly quiver and tighten under his touch. It's almost concave, like a valley in between the two sharp peaks of his hips. A few gentle tugs and Viktor is free of the pants, small clothes slung obscenely low. Viktor winces, and Jayce burns with embarrassment at the sight of a light scattering of hair disappearing beneath the thin fabric that leaves very little to the imagination. 

He’s never been with a man. And he’s quickly realizing that he has no idea where to even start. 

He clears his throat. “Why don’t you—why don’t you uhm–lie back. On the bed.” 

There’s a cough from the corner of the room that startles him, and Jayce shoots daggers their way. 

“Okay,” Viktor says quietly, his voice thin with nerves. 

He pulls himself back, and it looks a little difficult because he doesn’t put any weight on his leg. Jayce notices then, the redness and bruising imprinted from his brace and it leaves him wondering if it fits him properly. 

He waits until Viktor is settled back on the pillows before he descends onto the down with him. He crawls across the bed, sweat pricking at his brow and feeling like a hulking, awkward thing as he places one hand on either side of Viktor’s shoulders. His paleness is softened in the candlelight but not his sharp angles, only highlighted by the flickering shadows. Viktor lets out a deep sigh, and his eyes finally meet Jayce's. They are more intense now than when he was revealed to him at the altar; burning amber and terrified, even as his body lays bravely exposed and still. 

Jayce lays his himself over him, the sensation of Viktor’s skin against his and his brace digging into his chest. Viktor tenses under him, and it is in this exact moment he knows he cannot go through with this. 

“Ah,” Viktor cries out quietly with a hiss. Jayce is instantly hovering again, propping himself up on his elbows and scanning Viktor’s body anxiously. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, fighting the urge to propel himself entirely off the bed and out of the room. 

“No,” Viktor whispers. “It’s just my leg.” He reaches for a pillow, and offers it to him, not making eye contact. “Can you just put it under my knee?” 

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure.” Jayce says, distressed. He takes it, leaning back on his ankles and propping Viktor’s thin leg up. 

“Like that?” he asks, desperately trying to ignore the seven sets of eyes boring mortifying holes into the back of his skull. 

Viktor winces and shifts his hips, and then nods, visible relief softening his face. “Yes,” he exhales. “Thank you.” 

Jayce smiles at that, feeling useful. “You’re welcome.”

Viktor blinks, mouth twitching with surprise, and Jayce swears there might be a hint of a smile there too. 

A loud clearing of someone’s throat echoes from the corner of the room, startling them both. Jayce grits his teeth, every fiber in his being feeling murderous. He shoves it away and chooses instead to settle himself gently between Viktor’s legs. 

Viktor instinctually takes hold of his arm, his grasp light and flighty. He sighs out at the pressure of Jayce’s body, and his grip tightens when Jayce slides his fingers over his cheek; a sensual touch all for show.

He leans in towards Viktor’s neck. He smells like rain. He smells good, and Jayce doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

He brushes his lips against Viktor’s ear. “Listen,” he whispers as he slowly slides his other hand down his willowy body, taking Viktor’s good leg and propping it against his hip. His thigh is invitingly supple under his touch and Jayce feels horribly rapacious for thinking so. He shakes his head against the intruding thought.

Viktor tenses under him, but Jayce continues softly in his ear. “I am not going to do this.”

He pushes his hips forward ever so gently, the heat that's already building between their bodies making him shiver. Viktor makes a little hitched sound in the back of his throat.

Jayce nuzzles further into Viktor’s skin. They cannot hear him like this. “But—we have to make it look real. Okay? Can you help me? I won’t hurt you.” 

Jayce peels back slightly to observe Viktor’s face. He doesn’t speak. His expression is wide-eyed and serious, and he only nods his assent. 

Jayce gently slides his hands up Viktor’s thighs, hooking his fingers around the hem of his plain underwear. He pulls them down slowly, and Viktor lifts himself up off the bed as best he can. Jayce throws them to the side and keeps his eyes averted like his life depends on it, then unbuttons his own underwear, shoving them sloppily off his hips, leaving just enough of him exposed. They bunch around his thighs.

He gently coaxes Viktor’s legs open again, pulling his good one up just a little. He fluffs the down blanket up to partially hide where they connect. But Jayce isn’t prepared for the feel of Viktor beneath him: bare, silken, and warm. He bites back a grunt, burying his face in the crook of his neck. 

Viktor wraps his arms around his back, his sharp nails digging in gently. He hums into Jayce’s ear. 

“Good,” Jayce whispers roughly, swallowing and rocking his hips forward in a slow, steady rhythm. “Now—- I’m going to kiss you, just follow my lead, okay?”

Viktor nods against his cheek, and Jayce doesn’t hesitate before capturing his mouth with his. He slides his fingers through Viktor’s hair, cradling his head gently, surprised when Viktor opens up to him, sliding his tongue hesitantly along his lip. 

Jayce’s body instinctually responds and he pushes his hips forward a little harder. He groans and tries to will away how he is starting to ache between his legs. 

He pulls away from Viktor then, deciding the sooner this is over the better. He sucks on two of his fingers and shifts his hips so they’re hidden from view. 

Viktor watches him with wide eyes and a worried brow, but takes the hint. When his fingers slide along the inside of his thigh, Viktor tenses and arches his back slightly. He lets out a small grunt, his face turning pained. 

The effect is real enough to Jayce. His breath hitches in his chest and he bites his lip. Without further hesitation he spits into his hand and shoves it between them all the while kissing Viktor’s exposed neck and wiping it discreetly along the tangled sheets. 

He pushes Viktor’s hips up slightly, letting his bad leg stay propped where he put it, and pushes his hips forward, pretending he has forged his way inside him. 

He imagines what Mel feels like to him, plush and warm and tight, and then feigns a groan into the pillow. 

Viktor slides one hand down Jayce’s back, and that actually makes him tremble, and Jayce rocks into him again, unthinking.

Viktor slides one hand around Jayce’s neck and turns his face into his chest, moaning quietly into his skin. He clings to him as Jayce keeps a steady rhythm. 

The entire thing is utterly mortifying, and he reddens when he can feel Viktor harden, the skin there like fire and throbbing beneath him. Viktor hums again, this time higher pitched and needy, his mouth set in a tight line as if to smother it. It makes Jayce’s skin burn. 

He pulls him closer, quickening his pace, then kisses Viktor on the corner of the mouth. 

“Now,” he whispers raggedly into his ear, out of breath and hating how the friction feels good. 

“Yes,” Viktor breathes, tugging at the back of his neck harder and burying his face again in the dark burrow created between them by his broad chest. 

Jayce thinks of himself chasing his own orgasm in bed with Mel or in a stable with a girl from his village so long ago, when he was fumbling and careless. His cock rubs mercilessly along Viktor’s taught belly, wet with sweat and his own embarrassing slick. 

He stutters his hips and moans in mock pleasure, brow creased and lips brushing along Viktor’s temple. His hair is damp from their efforts. 

Viktor makes a high pitched noise, almost anguished, and shudders gently underneath him. Jayce watches his fluttering eyelashes and the sharp lines of his profile. The way he moves his mouth makes it hard for Jayce to decipher what is real and what is fake. 

There is no spend between them though.

He’s a good actor , Jayce thinks, a brash smile coming to his lips. 

Viktor turns his head, facing Jayce directly. His cheeks are flushed and he’s out of breath and Jayce is surprised to find he no longer has the look of an animal gone to slaughter. He blinks at Jayce and there's the hint of a smile on his lips, but it disappears quickly, embarrassment overtaking him like a candle snuffed out. 

Jayce mourns it. He sits up quickly and pulls the blankets over Viktor’s nakedness, no longer able to take anymore of this invasive ritual.

There are quick steps across the wooden floor and the secret door in the wall slams open. Jayce can see flowing white skirts disappear into the small corridor. Good, he thinks viciously. He hopes she’s suffered as he has. 

“Get out,” he snarls to the rest of them, glaring at each Council member as they file out of the room. 

Heimerdinger pauses at the door haughtily. “It seems your consummation was a success, my Lord. The Consort’s body, even in its—malformed state, can provide. This bodes well for the future of Piltover and your Sovran bloodline. The Council is satisfied. Goodnight.” 

With that, Heimerdinger disappears down the secret passageway, closing the panel door gently behind him. 

Odious rat , Jayce thinks angrily.

He grabs for the clock on his nightside table and chucks it at the paneled door, watching it shatter with glee. He feels Viktor flinch next to him as gears and metal crumble to the floor. To think, he was once his mentor. 

Jayce stands up onto his knees and pulls his small clothes back up, tucking himself away. He slides off the bed and quickly makes his way to the wardrobe, taking out one of his nightshirts. 

When he turns back around, Viktor has sat up and faces away from him. Jayce stares at his back for a long minute. Then with a deep breath, he trudges through the intense awkwardness, his limbs feeling heavy and jittery as he makes his way around the foot of the bed to stand before him. 

He holds out the nightshirt without saying anything. Viktor regards him questioningly, but accepts. He bites his lip, suddenly fiddling with the fabric nervously. 

“I can turn around,” Jayce says, realizing with humiliation that he’s gawking at him. 

“No,” Viktor says, the muscle in his cheek twitching. “It is-- not that.” He hums. “Could you help me with my brace? I have no mirror.” 

“Oh,” Jayce stutters with surprise. “Yes, of course.”

Viktor stands up and turns towards the wall, his eyes on the floor. He raises one arm to try to point to his back. 

“There are these— metal clasps that attach the brace to my spine.” He undoes the strap at his shoulder. 

Jayce steps forward warily, gawking at what he can see now are bolts screwed into his spine. The idea and visions of what that surgery must have been like makes him cringe. But he gently undoes one clasp and then the other as Viktor unbuckles straps at his sides and along his front. 

He watches Viktor’s thin muscles roll over his bones as he lifts it off the bolts and shrugs it away, sighing loudly with relief. Without thinking he brushes a thumb along one of the bolts. His touch makes Viktor tense. 

“Sorry,” he says, reeling back. “Do they hurt?” 

“They can get irritated,” Viktor says, still facing away from him as he pulls the nightshirt quickly over his naked body. “But no, actually. My back feels better since I was fitted for the brace. The leg—”

He turns around then, tucking his hair behind one ear. “Twisted my spine.” 

Jayce hums, pressing his lips together. He wants to ask him more, but it is far too strange standing half naked in his bedroom with this stranger he’s just pretended to have sex with. 

Instead, he turns away, and paces to the fireplace. He stokes it roughly and throws two more logs on, and it roars back to life. 

“Thank you,” Viktor says behind him. 

Jayce turns, shoulders deflating. He doesn’t feel like he should be thanked for much of anything. This entire day feels like a failure. And the bedding, well. The thought of it actually turns his stomach now. He doesn't know if he's done the right thing.

“For what?” he sighs dejectedly. 

Viktor sits against the bed, taking pressure off of his leg. “For not making me go through with it. -I–I–well…The details were not communicated to me.”

“I thought as much—when I saw your face at dinner,” Jayce says honestly, making and effort to choose his words wisely. “I thought Silco had been informed. I am sorry. Some of our customs—they are- well they are frightfully archaic. It’s something I hope to improve during my reign, but there are some things that will be a fight, to be sure.” 

Viktor doesn’t say anything to that, only nods. 

Jayce makes his way back over to his side of the bed and blows out his candle. Viktor copies him, and stands there waiting. 

“Get in the bed Viktor,” he says gently. 

Something happy stirs inside Jayce when Viktor listens, looking drowned in all the fabric of his nightshirt. It might be a small consolation to the horrible situation they've found themselves in.

Jayce climbs in next and fluffs his pillow, before flopping onto his back, making the bed rock like a boat. 

“Won’t you need your alarm?” Viktor asks him quietly. Jayce turns his head to find him eaten up by shadows and sitting with his hands resting primly in his down covered lap. 

Jayce grimaces. “I think we’ve earned our sleep,” he says gruffly. “If they knock before ten in the morning, I’ll throw my candle too.” 

Viktor hums something that sounds like a smile. Jayce turns away from him, head swimming and his emotions in turmoil. This strange day has officially caught up to him. 

“Goodnight, Viktor,” he whispers, pulling the blankets up high on his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Jayce,” Viktor murmurs in his sharp accent, now softened by weariness, and Jayce find that the last thought before he is taken by sleep is that he likes the sound of his name on his new Consort's lips. It's a thought he thankfully won't remember, come morning.

Chapter Text

On the second day of the rest of their onerous union, the first thing that Jayce comes to realize about his new husband is his feet are colder than the glaciers slithering over the mountains of his youth. He hisses at the shock of them brushing along his calves. 

Mierda, he curses. He wouldn't survive a day in Freljord . 

Jayce rolls over onto his back in the early morning light. It shines gray through the large windows on the north side of the room, and he knows it will be a dreary day. A perfect match to his mood.

His head aches from the copious amounts of champagne he drank last evening and he rubs his temple where it throbs. Jayce turns on his side as he stretches, rolling his hips against their dull ache; a new, tiresome visitor every morning since he’d turned thirty. 

He squints over the mound of linen next to him. 

Viktor is there, turned away from Jayce with the bottoms of his feet pressed gently along Jayce’s side. He is still fast asleep, his sharp shoulder rising and falling in even waves. 

Jayce gawks at the shock of pink now resting in the crook of Viktor’s neck. Rio purrs gently and stretches, turning around happily like a cat before curling back up into a ball just above Viktor’s head. Her big eyes blink at him without much interest before closing them again. 

The maid who builds the fire every morning must have let her in while they slept.

Imagining that makes the skin at Jayce’s chest burn with embarrassment. It feels as if he’d just grown used to the endless parade of servants and other people who live at this estate, and yet the idea of them seeing him and this stranger in bed together after whatever mouthwatering gossip had trickled down to the kitchens is, well, distressing to say the least. 

Jayce can’t help but stare now at the two oddities that share his bed. It is fascinating how Rio has already grown so attached to Viktor, as if she has imprinted on him, and he wonders if it’s something to do with the magic. He’d have to make a note of it in his journal later. 

Then, Viktor stirs, and it renders Jayce frozen. Viktor hums roughly under his breath, eyelids fluttering as he turns over, suddenly facing him. He tucks his hand up under his neck, and then his expression suddenly loses the softness of dreaming. His brow creases and he clears his throat, blinking himself to consciousness. 

Jayce pretends to study the ceiling, hands fiddling atop his bare chest, and his heart fluttering with nerves. 

Viktor leans up on one elbow, his shoulder length hair tousled in wild tendrils. He brushes it back from his face, squinting into the half-light. 

Then he groans loudly. “Hvězdy, pomozte mi!” he hisses under his breath. Jayce has no idea what it means.

He slowly lays back onto his back, face scrunched with pain and breathing through his teeth as he straightens his spine and limbs. 

“Are you alright?” The question falls from Jayce’s lips before he can stop it. 

Viktor startles a little, as if he’s forgotten Jayce was in his bed. His eyes widen slightly, and he rubs his eye sleepily, still shifting in discomfort. 

“Yes,” he says with a sharp ‘s’. “I am fine. It’s just—the stiffness is bad in the morning—,” he glances over to the window. “Especially when it rains.” He massages his leg underneath the duvet. “And I slept on my side—which—is not ideal.” 

There’s a small hiss and screech and Rio traipses happily onto Viktor’s thin chest peeking out of his nightshirt. Viktor’s face is overcome with quiet shock. He beams, and the smile unseen by Jayce before, softens his sharp features immeasurably. 

“Oh my gosh,” he says, voice still craggy from sleep and looking to Jayce for an explanation he can’t give. “What are you doing here!” 

Viktor pulls himself up a little to lean against his pillows and rubs a finger under her chin, gazing at her fondly as her whole body shivers with happiness. 

Jayce smiles. “I think the scullery maid let her in this morning.” 

Viktor raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “A Zaunite, I presume?” 

Jayce presses his lips together and tries to remember where Viya said she was from. He frowns. “I don’t know, honestly.” 

“Hmph–,” Viktor tsks, turning his attention back to Rio. 

Jayce takes that awkward cue to get out of the bed. He throws the covers off of him and stands, pretending to search for his forgotten clothes, his cheeks burning hot. He picks up his jacket from the previous day that he has no intention of wearing and fiddles with it in his hands. 

“I–well—,” he stutters, not really having any idea what the hell to say. “Are you hungry?” 

Viktor peers at him out of the corner of his eye, but his shoulders relax, and it seems he is at least trying to be cordial. 

“I did not eat properly yesterday, with all the commotion.” 

Jayce takes that as a yes.

“Okay, we can eat. And then maybe I could show you around the place? It wouldn’t do for the Consort not to know where he is going.” He hovers in the doorway of the washroom. 

“Alright,” Viktor agrees pragmatically. “Yes, I think that would be constructive.” His eyes linger on the space behind Jayce. “Do you have access to hot water?” he asks, curious. 

Jayce deflates with sudden embarrassment, scratching the back of his neck. He hadn’t even thought of that as something Viktor might not be used to. ¡Las estrellas lo ayudan!, he begs inwardly. Such a fool, Jayce Talis.

Well, if waking up in his bed with a magic stranger and a water alien the morning after an ancient ritual of publicly rubbing their dicks together hadn’t been awkward enough, breakfast makes that feel like a dream.

They sit in harrowing silence; Jayce at the head of the overly large table and Viktor to his left. The clinking of their silverware echoes irritatingly through the large room. 

Rio rests on Viktor’s shoulder, periodically eating a few pieces of vegetables from Viktor’s palm. 

Viktor’s belongings had been delivered overnight and he is dressed in something more plain today; the same pants from their wedding and a dark banded collared shirt with a kerchief and striped vest. It is buttoned up and unassuming, reminding him more of the scientists he works with in his lab and less of the powerful mage he knows him to be. Jayce can't help but let his thoughts run away with what that power might look like.

Viktor tucks his hair behind his ears and pushes around the porridge in his bowl. 

Jayce swallows his breakfast meat. “Is it satisfactory?” he asks, clearing his throat with a sip of his coffee. 

Viktor smiles tightly. “Yes,” he says. “I suppose I am just not as hungry as I thought.” He takes a sip from his cup. “The coffee might be the best I’ve had, though.” 

Jayce blinks. “Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

Leaving Rio behind to entertain the kitchen staff for a moment, Jayce follows Viktor watchfully with his hands clasped behind his back as they meander leisurely through the halls. He spends most of his time not knowing what to say as Viktor leans on his cane and focuses all of his attention studying the old paintings and relics of past Progress Days. Maids scatter when they notice them, giggling and hiding their whispers behind their scrubbed red fingers. 

Jayce’s cheeks burn as he opens a large door that leads to the open courtyard. The air is cool and damp, but most of the rain clouds have thankfully moved out of the city. The spring flowers have perked up from the much needed rain, their water drenched faces opening up to the sky in gratitude. 

“I’ve never seen so much life in one place,” Viktor speaks quietly. Jayce likes the way his face brightens. 

“I love these gardens,” he tells him truthfully. 

“They are very beautiful,” says Viktor, bending slightly to bring a large yellow flower to his nose.”  Plant life is essential to the magic, but most of what is in my books is hard to come by in Zaun.” 

“What of those bioluminescent flowers?” Jayce asks, interested. 

One side of Viktor’s mouth tugs up into a half smile. He glances at Jayce with what he thinks might be mischief. “They are mostly found near where the drains let out by the caves in the Undercity. A lot of the snipes, as you Pilties call them, I think? We used to swim there when we were children.” 

He laughs lightly, stepping around the bush to examine another flower. “Well—,” he says, peeking around the greenery. “I was not doing much swimming.” 

Jayce’s smile falters, and he unintentionally plucks a flower from the branch he’s been fiddling with. 

Viktor huffs another laugh. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can laugh.” 

Jayce feels hot all over, but a chuckle does burst up from his chest. 

Viktor’s cheeks redden and he hunches his shoulders bashfully, leaning heavy on his cane. “The picture of me swimming is quite amusing.” He chuckles again, before a sudden frown clouds his face. 

Jayce rubs a hand over his face to stifle his own smile. “Have you ever been to the beach?” 

Viktor straightens at his question. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. 

Jayce hums. He offers the short stemmed flower to Viktor, surprised when he takes it. 

He turns back towards the house. “Would you like to see the lab?” 

Jayce and Viktor spend over an hour in the laboratory reading his old notes and examining a new piece of tech he’s been working on. Hopefully it lessen the coal needed for Piltover’s stream boats that carry cargo to Noxus and Targon. 

Then there’s a knock at the door and Mel enters unexpectedly with Irius and Salo. 

Jayce straightens, jaw clenching in irritation. “Are you alright here?” he asks Viktor, who nods seriously in response. Jayce motions towards his invention. “Tinker with it. I’ll be back soon.” 

He joins the council members, scowling as they follow him down the hallway towards the throne room. 

“Is this some sort of intimidation tactic?” he spits, turning the corner where two footmen clamor to open the doors for him. “I told you I was not to be bothered.” 

“We have something very urgent we need to discuss with you, my Lord,” Salo says fiercely. 

There’s a hand at his shoulder and it takes all Jayce’s self-control not to slap it away. 

“Jayce,” Mel says, regarding him gravely. “You’ll want to hear this.” 

Jayce observes them fully, finally taking in their faces. They look serious. Eager. Frightened. 

He isn’t sure what any of it means.

“Let’s get this over with.” 

He stomps, jaw tight and fists clenched, last night’s humiliation finally morphing into rage. 

They take their seats at the Council’s formal marble table. 

Jayce approaches the table hotly. “What is so important that you have torn me away from my Consort on his first day in Piltover? This will not lend well—-,”

“Please. Sit, My Lord,” Heimerdinger interrupts earnestly. “There has been…a development.”

“A most intriguing development,” Cassandra croons with a smile. The Council gives each other self-satisfied looks. 

Salo offers a saccharine smile and gestures towards Jayce’s chair. “Please. Do have a seat.” 

Jayce’s heart sinks into his belly, yet he finds himself sitting down nonetheless. 

It is hours later when Jayce treads blearily into his bedroom, feeling as if his entire spirit has been extinguished. He bumps into a decorative table, cursing to himself as he catches it midair. Except for the light cast off the roaring fire, the room is shrouded in darkness. 

Rio awakens from her spot at the end of the bed, squinting and stretching before slithering behind a pillow. The Council's impromptu meeting stretched so far into the night Jayce had missed dinner and now Viktor lies sleeping quietly. Jayce shrugs off his jacket with a sigh and tears at the buttons of his vest before draping it over a chair. He slides his suspenders off his shoulders, letting them hang at his sides, and makes his way to the small gilded bar cart he keeps. 

He uncorks the sought after Noxian whiskey Mel had given him for his birthday and pours four fingers, all the while peeking at Viktor out of the corner of his eye. 

He’s splayed out on his back, which Jayce thinks is good considering the way he winced this morning. His face is tucked into his shoulder and one arm rests on his chest. Jayce takes a heavy swig of his drink, irritated he’s still wearing his back brace. 

Then his eyes catch on something yellow on his nightstand. It’s the flower he gave him earlier, now sitting in a small cup of water he probably found in lavatory. 

Jayce rubs his hand over his face, pours more whiskey and stalks over to the chaise in front of the fireplace. He kicks off his boots and falls back into it, worrying the inside of his cheek as he stares unseeing into the fire. 

He doesn’t know how long he ruminates, lost to his troubled thoughts and the soothing flames, but sweat pricks at his brow when he’s startled by Viktor’s voice. 

“Something troubles you?” 

Jayce shifts to peer at him. Viktor has sat in the chair facing him, still wearing his trousers. He rests his cane between his legs and leans his cheek against it, face still drawn from sleep. 

“No,” Jayce says quickly, watching the cinnamon colored whisky roll around in his glass. The fire pops loudly, an ember flying out onto the brick hearth. “It’s just—been a long day. I am angry I was held up by the Council all evening. Of all days. We debated for hours.” 

“You missed dinner,” Viktor states matter-of-factly.

“I am sorry–,” Jayce pleads gently. “It is not what I had planned for your first day here.” 

Viktor shrugs. “It is nothing. I am used to taking my meals alone.” 

“It is to me,” Jayce almost growls. 

Viktor’s brows raise and he stiffens. 

“Sorry,” he says again, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I'm frustrated. This thing—the Council deemed so urgent…well–it has to do with you.” 

Viktor’s eyes widen, but his voice doesn’t sound surprised. “Oh,” is all he says. 

Jayce gets up and pads back to the bar, pouring himself another drink and fixing one for Viktor too. 

He hands it to him over his thin shoulder, curiously watching the firelight flicker across the hills of his spine and ribs not hidden by his brace. 

Viktor gazes up at Jayce with an unreadable expression, examining the drink as if it were a specimen in a petri dish. 

Jayce pushes it closer to him, relieved when Viktor takes it. He rolls the liquor around in the cup and sniffs it. 

“What is it?” 

“Very expensive bourbon whiskey. Please—drink it if you'd like. I will make the Estate keep crates of it on hand from now on purely out of spite.” 

Viktor hums a smile into his cup and takes a sip. He sits down across from Viktor again, but positions himself more conversationally.

“Ty vole! ” he exclaims, baring his teeth and choking slightly. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Jayce chuckles. “It is strong.” 

Viktor coughs, but then takes another sip. “It is good, though,” he says, his voice a little rough around the edges. 

Jayce watches him, smile fading. His heart beats nervously in his chest. He throws back his second whiskey. 

“Look—Viktor—,” he starts warily. 

Viktor raises his hand, stopping him mid-sentence. 

“Might it wait until tomorrow? It is late—and I sleep quite badly as it is.” 

The plea on Viktor’s face disintegrates all of Jayce’s determination. His shoulders collapse. He feels relieved, even though he knows it is a hollow comfort. 

“Alright,” he breathes, leaning his elbows tiredly on his knees. “It can wait until tomorrow. We will have to attend a meeting after breakfast.” 

Viktor nods, finishing his own drink. “That is acceptable.” 

Jayce isn’t sure what to do with Viktor's strange collectiveness, his strange dichotomy of one moment appearing overwhelmed by emotion and the next minute replying with shrewd calmness, his responses almost mechanical. 

He catches himself staring and so he stands up abruptly, retrieving Viktor’s glass and taking them both back to the cart.

He hears Viktor stand behind him, his cane moving across the intricately woven rug with blunt taps.

He realizes too late he is moving towards him. 

Jayce turns around to find Viktor standing before him, looking vulnerable and so much smaller than him in his bare feet . 

“Can you assist me?” he asks, gesturing to his brace. 

“Yes, of course,” Jayce responds, flustered. 

Viktor turns away from him, bowing his head as Jayce undoes the clasps and buckles at Viktor’s back. The gesture feels intimate. It feels like something that should feel wrong between them at this juncture, an yet it doesn’t.

“I will have a full length mirror set up for you,” he says genially. 

“I’d be very thankful,” Viktor replies, pulling the brace from his body. 

He shifts around again. His face turns up towards Jayce with calm presumption, yet one side of his mouth twitches.

Viktor's eyes fall to the ground,  jaw set tight. His voice is cold. “Do you require—copulation—tonight, my Lord?” 

Any fraction of goodness Jayce had just felt shatters instantly. 

His mouth falls open in disbelief. He shakes his head. “Of course not,” he spits. 

Before he can think not to, Jayce cups Viktor’s chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look him in the eye. 

“Look at me,” he demands, searching reticent amber eyes. 

“You are not some object I can claim. You are not something brought here for me to enslave and fuck whenever I feel like it!” Jayce detests he is thought capable of such behavior by so many who live inside these walls.

Viktor flinches slightly at the word 'fuck' but then he hums thoughtfully, his expression showing a surprise that Jayce doesn’t like. 

He shoves down his anger and sighs, too tired to pull that thread. “And for the love of Kindred, don’t call me 'My Lord' ever again. Especially in our bedroom of all places.” 

Viktor smiles gently, lips closed. “What shall I call you then?” 

“Just Jayce. Please .” 

Viktor twists his mouth, as if trying on the idea feels bizarre.

“Mkay—Just Jayce, ” he says at last, eyes burning with teasing. 

Flustered, Jayce rolls his eyes and stomps away from him. 

They undress in an easier silence. Jayce throws more wood on the fire, and climbs into the bed. He hears Rio skitter over to Viktor's side of the bed. 

Viktor shifts and sighs. 

Jayce doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

Chapter Text

Viktor awakens slowly, blinking the morning into focus. 

The ceiling is ornately plastered and a large gas chandelier hangs in the middle, sparkling in the woolen sunlight. Viktor turns onto his back, stretching out his spine and reaching beneath the covers to massage his thigh. 

Jayce stirs beside him with a small yelp. 

“Kindred!” he rasps, yanking his legs away from Viktor’s feet.

He hadn’t even noticed they were touching. Viktor blushes, pulling his foot back to his side of the bed. 

Jayce throws his arm over his face groggily. “Remind me to have a bed warmer brought in here,” he says. 

Viktor turns to look at him. 

Jayce peers at him from under his arm. “Do you even have blood flow to your toes?” 

Viktor presses his lips together, sliding his fingers tenderly down Rio’s back as she comes to rest on his chest. “I am—- thin ,” he says, smiling when Rio rubs her cheek along his fingers sweetly. 

Jayce scoffs softly, sitting up on his elbow and grinning at him. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Viktor blushes again, trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. “Hmm, well you feel like a furnace. I am not used to sleeping with someone else, especially one so– feverish . I find myself pushing the blankets off in the middle of the night.”

Jayce raises his brows indignantly. “I don’t believe your feet could ever be too hot ,” he says, then frowns thoughtfully. “It’s not customary so I don’t know how the Council would take it. Kindred forbid, the press found out—-But I can see about having your own rooms set up if you’d like. You, uhm, could have your privacy.” 

Viktor’s smile fades and he doesn’t know why the statement makes him feel some sort of rejection. 

“I appreciate the offer, —-Jayce.” It still feels strange to be referring to the Sovran of Piltover by his first name. For that matter, it still feels strange to think about the fact that he is now married to the Sovran of Piltover. And now, at this moment, it feels even stranger that he does not particularly want to sleep in separate rooms.

“---But, I do not know another soul here. If I may say this, it is a comfort to share this room with you, even if we are nothing short of strangers. And, since we are to be espoused for the foreseeable future–it seems logical to continue to co-habitate, and not something we’d want to challenge the Council on.” 

“Do you view everything in your life soo—objectively?”

It’s a polite way to say he’s peculiar. It isn’t lost on Viktor that he is strange, and yet, having your Sovran point it out so plainly doesn’t necessarily make him feel pleasant.  

Viktor watches Jayce pull himself up to a sitting position, the sheets sliding down to his hips. His chest is strongly muscled with a scattering of dark hair. His whole body, frankly, is as intimidating as his position in Piltover. He’s almost two heads taller than Viktor and must outweigh him by at least six stones. 

Yet, even with his station and their predicament, he has shown him unexpected kindness in some ways. On their wedding night and on their walk yesterday. Even last night, when he was liquor soaked and angry. He took offense when Viktor brought up having his body; something he imagined—had prepared himself for—being a regular duty as Consort. 

“Possibly,” he finally answers Jayce, unsure what else to say. “I can’t say I have always found emotions or intimacy very easy.” 

Jayce regards him, suddenly serious and watchful. “Have you ever been with anyone, Viktor?” 

Viktor studies his fingers, shivering at the sound of his name. It feels like he is being accused of something.

He frowns. “Is that a necessary conversation?”

Jayce’s brow creases sharply and he looks to the ceiling as if it might save him from this interaction. 

“I don’t know, Viktor. It might be!” 

“You are anxious about something,” Viktor notes. “Does this have to do with what you wanted to discuss last night?” 

“Yes, actually it does,” Jayce says, repelling off the bed. He beelines it to the lavatory in a huff of nerves. 

Viktor tries not to listen as he relieves himself, and then the water turns on and Jayce comes back to the door with his toothbrush in his mouth. 

“I just—-,” he starts around a mouthful of toothpaste. “The Council may ask us some rather intrusive questions during the meeting today—.” 

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang at the door, startling them both. 

Jayce grunts in frustration and quick as lightning disappears behind the wall again, spits, and swiftly stalks to the door. 

Viktor sits up, bringing the blankets further up his scrawny, bolted chest. 

“My Lord,” someone greets softly. “They are ready for you now.” 

Jayce glances at the clock on the mantel and works his jaw. “Thank you,” he says. The young footman stands with his hands clasped behind his back by the ornate door. He peers at Viktor only briefly before staring straight ahead flatly. 

Jayce closes the door and turns to him. 

“We slept in,” he says. “I hadn’t realized. They are expecting us now.” 

Viktor throws his legs over the edge of the bed and massages his bad leg again, preparing himself for the morning pain. “Eh—maybe hurling your alarm clock at the door wasn’t the most astute choice.” 

Jayce glares at him. “Ha. Ha,” he deadpans. “If only I knew I was to marry such a comedian—,” 

Viktor squints back, interrupting him. “You would have what? Chosen a different arrangement?”

That shuts him up. 

Jayce sucks in a breath, as if he is swallowing down whatever retort he wants to snap back. Instead, he goes to the wardrobe and starts pulling his clothes on. He chooses a dark jacket and trousers with red and gold stitching. It’s a domineering, steely look. As if he’s putting on armor.

Viktor also dresses, grabbing his cane and retrieving his trousers from where he laid them across the footboard, slowly tugging them on. He kneads the muscles in his lower back, before going to his nightstand for the powder for his back brace, eyes catching briefly on the yellow flower he’d put in water. 

Jayce approaches him from behind. 

“Can I?” he asks, and Viktor nods without turning around. He brushes the rest of the powder over the interior of the brace and along the leather where it generally rubs, then puts it on, attaching it to the bolts at his breastbone. It falls into place at his back and he sighs as Jayce buckles along his sides and fastens the clasps. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, trying to ignore the fact that they are being observed. He heads to the wardrobe he was provided on the other side of the room and pulls out a dark green tunic and a leather belt, then attaches his family crest of hound and evil eye, pinning it to his chest. 

He runs his fingers through his hair and splashes cool water on his face from the wash basin that was delivered along with his other belongings, then sits to fasten his leg brace.

Jayce regards him soberly from across the room. 

“Ready?” 

Viktor nods. 

Jayce picks up Rio from the bed, and she screeches a slight protest, her tongue slithering out with attitude. But she lets Jayce take her away, and he abruptly hands her to the footman, who is almost thrown off kilter with surprise. His eyes widen comically, but he is able to get a good hold on her. 

“Take her down to the kitchens,” Jayce instructs. “Have them see to it that she has a swim in the pond.” 

Viktor is surprised to be led to a throne room made of stone. A mechanism on the roof is cranked open to reveal light, almost like an aviary. Upon a marble platform sit two stone carved seats sitting next to each other, one more ornate and larger than the other. 

The Council are sitting at a round table before them, waiting. It is unnervingly quiet, and Viktor’s cane feels embarrassingly loud as they cross the room. 

Jayce presses his large hand at the small of his back again, a calculated touch. He leads him to his chair and a servant comes to place his cane in an iron holder. It is obviously something that has been specifically forged for him, and he wonders if Jayce had it made. 

The Yordle smiles cheerily. 

“Welcome, my Lord and Consort.” 

Each member of the Council goes on to introduce themselves, and Viktor can’t do much but nod at them, overwhelmed by their greetings as well as the fact that he can now put a face to each member who had sat in the shadows on their wedding night. It’s dreadfully humiliating, but he chooses to sit as straight as he can in his chair, taking his nerves out on roughly twisting his wedding ring around his finger. 

The Yordle, who he now knows as Heimerdinger motions to Mel. She straightens and clears her throat, her watchful expression turning stolid and professional.

Jayce is rigid next to him. 

“The Council has brought you here today, to discuss a matter that is gravely important to Piltover and its people, as well as the legacy and bloodline of House Talis. While I have had my reservations, I agree with the rest of the Council…that an heir is the best course of action.” 

Viktor grips onto the arms of his chair, unsure of what she could mean. 

“Now, it was understood, when I was engaged to the Sovran, that an heir would be provided. But with the passing of the former Sovran, Kindred rest his soul, and with the need of a treaty, it was necessary to forge a union between Piltover and Zaun with a marriage.”

Engaged ? Viktor looks to Jayce. He keeps his eyes forward and his mouth rigid, but he does slide his thumb gently along the side of Viktor’s hand. 

“Yes,” Heimerdinger says. “And with the rise of your magic Viktor, I agreed to the union. I have lived for nearly three and a half centiries and have seen many great mages of the past, when they were still a fabric of everyday life. It was always a well known fact, that despite their outward sexual function and appearance, mages are endowed with a womb capable of nurturing life. And we, as the Council, have come to suspect that this is certain for you too. So we would like you to submit to some scans and tests, so that we can confirm if you have inherited the blessed ability of your Ancients.” 

It’s at that moment that Jayce’s hand wraps around Viktor’s and squeezes, and he is able to finally exhale. 

He extracts himself from his grip. 

“And what are the risks of the testing?” Jayce asks immediately. 

“Like we stated before,” Salo responds quickly. “The risks of testing are zero to none.” 

Jayce scoffs bitingly. “And what of the risks if there is life conceived? What are the risks of this kind of pregnancy?” 

Viktor stares, wide-eyed. The light fades from the sky and a storm cloud gathers; dark and undulating. 

“Mages are historically known to have healthy pregnancies. I have seen many successful births in my time.” 

The cloud grows larger and more formidable. Some Council members peer up at the sky. Candles are snuffed out by a wind that comes from nowhere. 

“I’m not talking about three hundred years ago, Heimerdinger!” Jayce spits fiercely and stands, arm outstretched towards Viktor. “I am talking about right now—with the mage sitting before me. And I’m talking about my Consort who, who, who—who has a severe…frailty to his body!” 

Viktor grips his stone chair so tight his fingers turn white. Instantly, there’s a flash of lightning and an immediate crack of thunder so violent the entire room shakes. 

It interrupts their bickering. 

“I’ll do your tests,” Viktor murmurs, bringing his hands back to his lap. He takes a breath, shaking off his racing thoughts, frustration, and fear; the sky opens up again. The sun shines down on them as if nothing happened. 

Jayce stares stunned at the ceiling with his mouth agape. Then he turns to Viktor, his expression a mixture of fear and wonder. Viktor is shocked to find his silver markings glowing softly. He isn’t sure Jayce even knows it’s happening. 

Heimerdinger claps, startling them both to attention and the silver marks are suddenly snuffed out. 

“Bravo, my boy!” he praises. “A wonderful demonstration of your magic. And to think, that is just the surface of what you are capable of. All the more reason an heir is vital to the future of the Talis bloodline.” 

Viktor shoves his interest in his markings away and glares at Jayce instead, watching him swallow stupidly. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He regards Viktor so gently and it makes him want to strike him across his head with his cane. 

“Run your tests,” Viktor repeats firmly before a wave of tiredness washes over him. 

He regards the Council, all of whom are sat staring at him intently. “Will that be all?” 

“Yes, Consort,” Heimerdinger replies. “This has gone very satisfactorily.”,

Jayce tries to help him up, but Viktor bats him away. “I am fine,” he tells him impetuously. 

Jayce backs off and Viktor doesn’t wait for him. He needs to get out of this room immediately before he suffocates. 

“We will take lunch in our room,” Jayce growls. “If we are bothered, I will take a cue from our Noxian brothers and sisters and spear whoever knocks’ head on a pike and afix it a top the tower for all to see. Do you understand me?” 

A few meek, “Yes, my Lords,” can be heard and then Jayce’s footsteps as they trail determinedly after him. 

Viktor slams the door in Jayce’s face hard with a wave of his hand. To his Sovran’s complete and utter outrage. He almost breaks the handle with a loud grunt before barrelling through the door.

“Viktor!” he pleads, chest rising and falling with exasperation. 

It might amuse Viktor that he was able to render him so out of breath chasing him, and yet today he finds no such pleasure. 

“Why would you allow the tests?!” Jayce wails, indignant. 

Viktor sits down on the chaise lounge in front of the fire, his back sore from the hard throne. He glowers at Jayce and gestures with his arm fiercely, a bitter laugh bubbling up. “You really think I had any sort of choice back there? In front of your tyrannous Council?!”  

Jayce stops mid-step, sighing as if he’s exhausted, yet his voice drips with anger. “That's why I wanted to speak with you last night! I fought for hours with them!” 

Viktor leaps to his feet, stumbling slightly and immediately righting himself. 

“And yet still! There is one thing missing from that equation! Is there not?!” 

Jayce straightens, his expression bewildered. He grits his teeth. 

“So you want to go through with these—- experiments?! I am your Sovran! Whether we want it to be or not! I am sworn to protect you!” 

Viktor’s chest tightens. He steps closer to Jayce, the heat blaring off of him warms his cheeks. He angles his neck sharply, glaring up at him.  “And yet you failed to mention the fact that you were betrothed to one of the most powerful members of that Council!” 

Jayce’s shield of anger shatters, as if Viktor has thrown a brick through glass. 

He shoves his hand roughly through his hair with a huff. “She was my father’s ward. We—we grew up together.” 

“You love her.” 

Jayce gazes down at him helplessly before turning away. 

“It's complicated,” he mutters, going to the drink cart and fixing himself a whiskey.  He doesn’t offer Viktor anything. 

He leans against the wall, taking a long swig. 

“It was arranged. Just like this,” he says finally. “It is how my life was always designed to be. But yes—an affection grew between us, as we came of age. But that doesn’t change how I feel about my duty to you. I want—-“ he sighs with frustration, as if he doesn’t know how to get the words out. “Even if this isn’t a love match—or even something you will ever find gratifying, there is no getting out of it. We will be together for the rest of our lives. So the least we can do is try to be—some version of friends.” 

Viktor deflates, all the fight rushing out of him at once. He sighs a disheartened sigh. 

Before he can answer, there is a light tap at the door, and a cart with their lunch is rolled in. The maid greets them cheerily and sets their food on the table. Viktor’s stomach growls when he smells it. 

The two of them warily come together and sit at the table. They spend another meal in stilted silence. 

Chapter Text

The weeks go on, and the yellow flower on Viktor’s bedside table wilts and turns brown. 

He and Jayce go through the motions of existing as the Sovran couple. They attend a ribbon cutting ceremony, they host a dinner for Ambassadors from Fjeldor, and they invite Jayce’s mother around for dinner, who Viktor must admit, he rather likes. 

Jayce spends a lot of time away from him; in meetings with the Council and other leaders where they talk trade routes, taxes, and other inane fundamentals to running a nation. When he is left alone, Viktor spends afternoons in the lab where Jayce had a workstation set up for him. He tinkers with his experiments and tries to harness more control over the weather phenomena he had provoked in the Council meeting with mixed success. 

He and Jayce usually meet in the evenings to have dinner together, and when there is time they take a walk in the gardens before going their separate ways again. It feels like something Jayce sees as his duty, and it is usually quiet between them. But Viktor has felt that maybe some of the anger has dissipated. They could possibly become…some sort of friends, as Jayce suggested. 

Recently equipped with the full length mirror and his tool, Viktor is able to undo his back brace independently, and so he usually retires to their room afterwards to soak his leg and read. He finds the hot running water a newfound luxury he really loves, and it relieves some of the tightness in his aching muscles before bed. 

Jayce comes in very late most nights, looking hollow-eyed and his spirit stretched thin. Sometimes he falls asleep stretched atop the covers still fully clothed, only to be gone again when Viktor wakes. 

Tonight, when he appears, Jayce is excitable and soaked with sweat. Viktor is awake. He closes his book over one finger and peers at him curiously from where he’s been reading on the bed with his leg propped on a pillow. 

“You’re early,” he observes, noting how he is in nothing but his sleeveless undershirt and pants. 

“I was in the forge,” he says, sighing heavily as he sits to remove his boots. “How was your evening?” 

“Uneventful,” he answers, watching him rub the tops of his feet. “I never ascertained you are an ironworker yourself.” 

Jayce stands and throws a log on the fire. It crackles to life. 

“My family have been blacksmiths going back generations. My father was chosen by the Sovran before him and his Council due to his lack of an heir. One of the reasons it's become such an obsession of theirs now.” 

Viktor hums. Jayce watches him thoughtfully.

“A hundred years ago my family mostly worked with the horses,” he says. “We weren’t always a part of the noble class.” 

“What made your father be chosen then?” 

A gentle smile spreads over Jayce’s face. “My father was a brilliant man. He had a talent for innovation.” His smile turns to a grin. “And for getting his way.” Jayce stretches and scrubs his hand over his face tiredly. “I am afraid I have no such talent.” 

Viktor dog-ears his page, tossing the book by his side. Rio doesn’t stir from her sleep. 

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he offers. “You did manage to find a way to come with me tomorrow, even though the Council had initially rejected the idea.” 

Jayce pillows his head in his hand and looks into the fire before peeking at him with ember-bright eyes. “Mel helped with that.” 

Viktor fiddles with his wedding ring, slides it off and back on his thin finger. “I see—,” he says. 

Jayce stands, his expression turning serious. He ventures over to the bed quietly and Viktor straightens when he sits. 

His eyes catch on the dead flower briefly before studying the bedspread between them. He raises his hand out, as if he might catch Viktor’s in his, but instead lets it fall between them. 

“I know you don’t believe this, but she’s on our side, Viktor.” 

Viktor nods, forcing himself to look at him. 

Jayce’s eyes are persistent when he finally looks up. He brings his palm to Viktor’s shoulder, offering him a small squeeze.

“Are you ready?” 

Viktor sighs despite himself at the small, friendly gesture. Still so unaccustomed to intimate touch. His skin burns under Jayce’s thumb. 

“Mhm—I am.” He regards Jayce closely, forcing the words he’s been thinking over for weeks out of his chest. “I don’t think anything will come of it. I am but a pale echo of my ancestors—-yet—after thinking on it these past weeks the idea of—“ 

Jayce’s expression turns from earnest to pleading, as if hanging on his every word. 

Viktor can’t say it. He shakes his head. 

“Nevermind.”

“No,” Jayce says, taking hold of his hand. It is swallowed up by his large, warm grip. “What were you going to say?”

“It is nothing,” Viktor says.

Jayce twists his mouth, biting down whatever frustration he might have with him. 

He straightens then, and pauses as if a thought comes to him. He bites his lip and Viktor freezes when he stands up. One of his hands leans on his thin thigh and then Jayce is hovering above him, his gaze a little frantic and a lot unsure. 

It roams over Viktor’s face for the briefest of seconds before it drops to his mouth. Then he presses his lips to his. They feel plush and a little bit chapped, and Viktor shivers when Jayce brushes a thumb along his sharp jaw. 

It’s a gentle and fleeting thing. Familial even. And before Viktor can respond or process what it might mean, Jayce pulls away. 

His Sovran’s brow creases like he’s worried, and he is still leaning heavily on his good leg. His weight is a comfort Viktor can’t really explain. He looks for lies and can find none when Jayce says, “I want to be there because I want to be there, Viktor. You are my Consort and I am bound to keep you safe. It has nothing to do with the Council or Mel or anything else. It has to do with you and me. I want to be informed.” 

Viktor nods, hands still fiddling nervously in his lap. 

“I am to meet the doctor in the Infirmary at 9 o’ clock tomorrow morning.”

Jayce smiles. “Then we’ll go after breakfast. I have a meeting with the Commander of the Police Department early, but can meet you in the dining room around eight or so.” 

“That would be—satisfactory,” Viktor replies. 

Jayce peers at him like he’s absurd, but then smiles. Viktor’s cheeks burn. 

“I’m going to shower,” he says and disappears into the lavatory. 

Viktor is asleep when Jayce returns, and he doesn’t feel him when he crawls into bed. 

He is gone when he wakes, along with his dead yellow flower. Instead the cup is filled with happy little orange and white flowers, their faces turned up and pinched as if they are offering kisses. Their petals fold out from the kiss in delicately veined blooms. Laceflower. Their petals provide a useful serum he can use in tinctures for healing, and their roots make a good cup of tea. 

Viktor had pointed them out as a favorite of his on one of their walks a week or so ago. Jayce looked at the ground with his hands behind his back, lost in thought. 

He hadn’t thought he was listening, and had quite given up with small talk after that. 

Viktor presses a petal gently between his fingers. Apparently he’d been wrong. 

The infirmary is busier than Viktor imagined. There are injured soldiers and sick staff members being tended to by nurses of all different species. 

A tall doctor Viktor has never met pulls his glasses from his furry nose, and offers them a polite smile. 

“Come,” he says, turning towards a pair of swinging doors. 

Viktor glances at Jayce who schools away his nervousness and nods at Viktor, his hand resting once again along his back. He nudges Viktor forward, and he follows the man down an empty hallway. 

They are led into an office. The doctor sits behind his cluttered desk and offers them a seat. Viktor can’t help but stare at the exam chair in the corner complete with stirrups and metal tools laid neatly on a table. 

He swallows heavily and sits down, ignoring how his heart starts to race. 

The man, with a goat-like face, stacks some papers aside and opens Viktor’s chart. 

“I’m Dr. Virrun,” he greets casually. “I am going to ask you some intake questions, and then we’ll do the exam right over there.” 

He gestures for the chair. “Afterwards, we will have the nurse take you for the x-rays and scans. And we will test the blood, too.” 

Viktor can feel nervous sweat pricking at his brow, and he presses down where his good leg is shaking. He desperately ignores how the gas lights above start to flicker. A bulb pops out in the hall. 

Jayce thumbs along Viktor’s knuckles lightly. 

Dr. Virrun peers up past his glasses to the ceiling curiously. “Interesting,” he notes, dipping his fountain pen in the inkwell and jotting down something in Viktor’s file. 

“Okay—,” he says with a preparatory breath.  

“Name.” 

“Viktor Talis.” 

“Date of Birth.” 

“—around 962.”

“So you are about 29?”

“Something like that.” 

“Parents?” 

“Dead.” 

“Do you know anything of their medical history?” 

“I never knew my father and my mother died of Grey Lung.” 

The doctor raises his eyebrows. “Consumption?”

“Yes.” 

“Were you a healthy baby?” 

Viktor grimaces. “I’ve never been healthy, Sir.” 

“Even when your magic presented itself?” 

“If anything–it makes me more fatigued.” 

“Was your twisted leg and back the result of an accident or other such calamity?”  

Viktor shifts in his seat and taps his cane against the floor. He glances at Jayce quickly out of the corner of his eye. “No. My mother said I was like this when I was born. She said—-it was a difficult birth.” 

“You lived in poverty?” 

“Yes.”

“Squalid conditions?” 

“Yes. Until I was found by Silco.” 

“I see. And how many sexual partners have you had, besides the Sovran?” 

Viktor sucks in a breath, pulling away from Jayce and massaging along his ring finger.

“One.” 

“Female?” 

“Male.” 

“Was it protected sex?” 

Viktor shakes his head. “No.” 

“I see.” 

“Any venereal disease in your past that you’re aware of?” 

“No.” 

The doctor continues to scribble more notes, then he flips the case file shut and smiles. “Okay,” he says gently, removing his glasses from his golden-red eyes. He heads to a sink in the corner, washing his hands with a bar of soap. 

He pulls a flimsy curtain around them. 

“Please remove all of your clothes and medical devices and lay back in the lounge chair. Give a yell when you're ready.” 

“Don’t you have a dressing gown or something he could put on?” 

“I need to examine the Consort’s entire body. Don’t worry. It will be an efficient examination. I know you have places to be, Sovran.” The doctor smiles, and Jayce’s fist clenches at his side. 

Viktor turns away from them and starts to undress. He hasn’t been naked in front of Jayce since their wedding night, and even then they were in a candlelit room beneath his down sheets. He can’t imagine Jayce had seen, nor wanted to see, much of anything. Somehow this feels more wretched than that all of the sudden. 

Another bulb pops somewhere far away. The lights flicker and Viktor squeezes his eyes shut, clamping down the magic he feels stirring. 

He quietly undoes his leg brace and boots, and pulls off his trousers. He turns his back to Jayce, who helps him out of the back brace. Viktor avoids his gaze as he slides off his small clothes, shivering when he lies back on the lounge chair. 

He brings his knees together awkwardly and stares up at the ceiling. Jayce grabs a chair and sits it next to him, far enough back where Viktor can’t see his face. 

Viktor clears his throat. “Okay,” he calls. 

The doctor swiftly appears from behind the curtain. He turns the overhead lamp on, making Viktor flinch at its brightness.

He starts by sitting Viktor up and counting his pulse with his pocketwatch. Then he presses his fingers down his spine, and palpates lightly along his chest before leaving him to sit on the stool between his legs. 

“Alright, bring your backside down for me. To the edge of the seat and put your feet in the stirrups.” 

Viktor complies, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily. 

“That’s it. Little more.” Dr. Virrun rubs his hands together briskly and then pours some sort of oil in one hand. 

“A bit underweight?” he asks, pressing into the concave of Viktor’s belly. 

“Yes,” he answers, counting the cracks in the ceiling. 

“Okay,” the doctor. “Forgive me, if my hands are cold.” 

Jayce reaches out for Viktor, offering his hand and he takes it, squeezing when the doctor examines his penis, and palpates his testicles. 

“No menstruation ever, I imagine?” 

Viktor shakes his head, holding his breath when the doctor presses his fingers inside him. Jayce laces his fingers through his when Viktor squeezes hard. The lights flicker rapidly.

“Little pressure,” the doctor says, pressing down harder on his belly at the same time he invades inside him. 

Jayce stands up, finally in view and looming over Viktor and the doctor. “Are we about done here?” 

Dr. Virrun sits up and removes his hand, rolling his chair back. 

“Yes, quite finished.” He stands and goes to the sink to wash his hands again. 

“So there is no birth canal present. Sometimes we see mages that present as male outwardly still be able to give birth the natural way if their internal makeup allows it. If you are viable, Viktor, and the pregnancy is successful, we will have to perform a cesarean section. It has been a regular surgery in Piltover for the last decade so nothing to be nervous about.” 

Jayce helps him sit up, grabbing Viktor’s tunic and placing it over his lap. 

The doctor offers his goodbyes. “I will inform the nurse you are ready. The scans shouldn’t take more than an hour.” 

Viktor nods, pulling his tunic over his head to hide his body. Jayce doesn’t offer the man any sort of thanks or acknowledgement.

He ducks his head to catch Viktor’s gaze. “You don’t have to do the tests today,” he tells him seriously. 

“I would like—to just get this done,” he replies. 

“I know,” Jayce responds earnestly. “I know.”

Viktor regards him with hesitation. “I would like to know. If I am capable.” 

Jayce’s expression softens. Then after a moment of thought, he nods. “Alright. I can understand that.” 

Viktor can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. “Truly?” he asks. 

Jayce returns his smile, his hands falling over Viktor’s sharp shoulders. “Yeah,” he says. “I can understand wanting to know your body’s limitations as well as its capabilities. It is just all so invasive.” He looks outraged. 

Viktor shrugs. “Eh—I am used to these things. I have had many medical procedures since I was an adolescent.” 

“I am sorry for it,” Jayce says with sincerity. He picks up Viktor's back brace.

Viktor fidgets with his hands before sliding it around himself, unused to such attention. But before he can say anything Jayce changes the subject. 

His frown turns into a grin. “I was kind of hoping you’d shatter one of those lightbulbs over that guy’s head.” 

Viktor chuckles, cheeks heating. “I was doing my best to keep it contained. Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own when my emotions are—-elevated.” 

“Well—the whole room would be on fire if my emotions were dictating anything,” Jayce blurts. 

That is surprising. Viktor feels something warm bloom in his chest the thought of Jayce being protective of him. His hazel eyes are bright with it now. 

Jayce grins boyishly, flashing that charming gap. “I wish you’d come to one of my meetings and reign terror over Salo’s head.” 

“He is rather insufferable, isn’t he?” Viktor voices before he can think. 

Jayce’s mouth drops open in surprise, but he leans in closer to Viktor, so close he can feel his breath skate across his cheek. “I hate the man,” he whispers. 

Which makes a roarous bubble of laughter escape Viktor. “I think you think you’re being discreet about that fact, but you look as if you want to murder the man whenever you lay eyes upon him.” 

Jayce laughs too, covering his mouth with his hand as if to wipe it away. “No!” he exclaims quietly. “Surely not.” 

Viktor laughs again, unable to lie. “Surely yes!” he teases. 

Jayce frowns, but his face is still reddened with humor. His eyes, rather pretty, Viktor thinks, when he’s lighthearted, suddenly regard him intently, and the mood shifts. 

Viktor’s smile is wiped from his face, and his whole body tenses when Jayce swipes his hair off his cheek, fingers delightfully rough with calluses, and tucks it behind one ear. The gesture makes Viktor’s heart flutter in his chest. 

“It’s nice to see you smile,” Jayce murmurs, eyes dragging along Viktor’s mouth. Viktor raises his chin when Jayce leans in ever so slightly, so close they are sharing breath, astounded to find he wants Jayce to kiss him again. 

Jayce’s grip tightens around his thin arms, eyes turning hooded, and his massive body hot between Viktor’s legs. His tunic is still the only thing hiding his nakedness, and there is something completely different roaring between them than the dutiful affection he’d shown him last night. 

But  then, Jayce blinks, and the moment is somehow gone. He steals his heat away, brow creasing sharply as he steps backwards. He throws his hands on his hips, looking suddenly stiff and awkward again. 

He shakes his head, as if his thoughts have gotten away from him. “Ahm—-,” he stutters. “I’ll just uhm, wait outside for you—okay? We’ll get these next tests over as quickly as possible.” 

Viktor crosses one arm over his middle, the other hand massaging his thigh, feeling suddenly confused and somehow more embarrassed than before. 

“Right,” he replies, watching Jayce disappear behind the curtain. 

Viktor is left alone, brushing his fingers over his lips where Jayce’s breath had caressed. Like some phantom thing. 

Chapter Text

A week later the Council calls a meeting.

The sun shines brightly on the pond where Jayce finds Viktor. He sits on the ground with an open notebook next to him, picking stems of grass from its roots and watching Rio swim. The winter chill that numbed the earth has since thawed and today is particularly warm. One of those spring days where summer makes itself known, and Viktor is in a loose, gauzy white shirt tucked into simple dark slacks. He’s taken his brace off and is now barefoot, digging his heels into the ground as if he might meld himself into it. 

“She’s getting too big for the bed,” Jayce says as he sits down next to him. He picks a yellow sheep’s thicket weed from nearby and twirls it around absently between his fingers. 

Viktor sighs a smile next to him, still studying his feet. Jayce notices how his right foot turns in at an awkward angle, the ankle bony and slightly misshapen. 

“We’ll need to get her one of her own soon, I imagine.” 

Jayce throws the flower away, keeping his eyes on the shining pond. The sun beats scorchingly at his back.“The Council certainly was enthusiastic this morning.” 

Viktor hums. “This means good things for them.” 

“And what about us?” Jayce asks, finally looking at him. “What about you?” 

Viktor peeks at him shyly out of the corner of his eye. “I am—quite nervous,” he murmurs, then straightens. “But also filled with curiosity.” Viktor blushes then. “The uhm, intimacy of it might be difficult. I know that’s not—natural for you. But I do think–if I can actually do this? Give life? I might find happiness in that.” 

Jayce reddens too, scrubbing his hand over his face nervously. He smiles stupidly. “The idea of an heir—a child—does make me feel something I’d never thought it would,” he says softly. “I just worry. With your back and your leg. They said it might be–difficult–as the baby grows. What will the people of Zaun think if something happens to you? What kind of revenge will Silco seek if he’s lost you?” 

Viktor regards him directly. “You think I haven’t thought of that?” 

“No,” Jayce sighs. “That’s not—-” 

“I do not see a way of getting out of this…very precarious predicament that we’ve found ourselves in. I also think the Council is taking an unnecessary risk—.” He scoffs. “To think—the entire legacy of your house riding on me, a crippled oddity from the Undercity.”  

“I didn’t say that, Viktor.” 

“You implied it,” Viktor spits at him, mouth tightening with anger. 

Jayce can feel Viktor’s urge to get away from him, to run off. Yet he doesn’t. Instead, he stays seated, probably gauging that it’s too difficult and too much effort. 

Jayce sighs heavily, looking out at the pond dejectedly. This is definitely not how he wanted this conversation to go. 

“They want to hold a ball,” Jayce blurts, not knowing what else to say. He scrunches his face against his embarrassment. “As an announcement for when you are…with child. They hope to plan for the summer solstice.”

Which means he and Viktor have a mere eight weeks of trying. The thought makes his head hurt and his belly twist in knots.

Viktor breaks into laughter beside him, startling Jayce. His neck snaps to look at his Consort, who he finds slapping his hand along his thigh, giggling . 

“What could possibly be so funny about that?” he asks, peeved.   

Viktor rolls onto his back, one arm raised up and cradling his head in his palm. He shuts his eyes against the bright sky, mouth drawn slack and chest trembling with joy. Jayce has never seen him like this, and all he can do is gawk, the breath ripped from his chest. 

His Consort is confounding. 

“Jayce,” Viktor says, his name tumbling out of his mouth happily. “You do realize the absurdity of that, correct?” 

A smile pulls at Jayce’s lips, but his brow creases, still not quite understanding. 

Viktor’s eyes widen and he gestures wildly to his leg. “A ball ? For me?” 

“¡Estrellas!” Jayce exclaims finally understanding. He rolls backwards with his arm over his eyes. “I hadn’t even thought of that. The Council really are—,” 

“Idiots?” Viktor supplies, turning to face him, eyes bright and breathless. 

Jayce, surprised by him once more, leans up on one elbow with a grin. “I was going to say out of touch but—you don’t have to dance. It’s not a big deal.” 

Viktor shrugs.

“Besides,” Jayce says, instinctively tucking a wild tendril of hair behind Viktor’s ear. “It was the eight weeks part that got me.” 

Jayce can see the exact moment it clicks on Viktor’s face. 

His smile is swiped away and his eyes widen with what can only be described as absolute trepidation. He swallows heavily. “Right,” he mutters roughly. His mouth twists, watching Jayce closely. “That is, well, that is—.” 

“Yeah,” Jayce says with finality, flopping back down next to him in a huff. 

They spend the rest of the afternoon staring at the clouds together with quiet mouths and very loud thoughts. 

Jayce spends the evening in his solar plowing through massive amounts of paperwork, leaving Viktor to himself in the laboratory. Although, Jayce does wonder what he’s been up to in there. He hasn’t pressured Viktor into showing him anything since they’ve been married, but he fears his curiosity might get the better of him soon. 

Either way, Jayce thought some time alone before tonight might be good. He is….well, he’s dreading it. 

At least Viktor has been with a man before (another surprise from his doctor’s appointment). Jayce has been with quite a few girls, mostly fumbling and led into battle by raging teenage hormones, and then as a man he had Mel. 

Mel was a woman; as decisive and smooth in bed as she was in her work, knowing exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. She was tall and strong and had wide curving hips that drove him wild. It was easy to pleasure her because she was experienced and adept at giving him direction. 

Viktor couldn’t be further from her opposite. Jayce must outweigh him by ninety pounds. He’s unfathomably thin with skin stretched tight over sinewy muscle. And while he certainly is beguiling; commanding the attention of a room just by walking into it, Jayce worries about his inexperience. Both of their inexperience for that matter.

From what he can gather Viktor hasn’t been with anyone for years and the experience he does have is succinctly limited. Considering what he knows of him, Jayce wonders if abstaining sex was a deliberate choice for Viktor. He wonders if he could hurt him. He wonders if he’ll even be able to perform. Jayce wonders and wonders and wonders, not getting much paperwork completed.

The room is stifling when Jayce enters, earlier than usual. He finds Viktor where he usually finds him; bathed and dried and propped up in the bed with his nose in a book. 

Except on this night, there are two distinct differences: a silken dark blue robe Jayce has never seen before hanging off his Consort’s sharp shoulders, and the very noticeable absence of Rio. 

Jayce stops mid-step. He glances around, taking in the blazing fire, Viktor’s pants laid neatly over a chair, the curtains pulled closed. 

Viktor’s gold-tawn eyes, wide and watchful, regard him over the edge of his book. 

Jayce’s heart leaps into his throat and he decides to focus his attention on his wardrobe, pulling his cravat and vest off with a sigh. He unbuttons his shirt, pulls off his boots, pants, and socks, leaving him in nothing but his small clothes. 

It renders him more comfortable in the fiery heat and he pauses a moment before resting at the edge of the bed. He can feel Viktor’s gaze on him, searing his back just like the sun earlier in the day. 

He breathes out unsteadily, the air between them so still and tense with their covenant he feels it might horribly shatter with any wrong move. 

Jayce stands up, forcing himself to move anyway. He quickly roots through the drawer of his bedside table to find a small bottle of oil and sets it on top. Viktor’s eyes widen slightly when he notices, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Jayce turns down the bed, climbing in and mirroring Viktor with his head against the intricately carved headboard and hands in his lap. 

It is silent for a long moment as they watch the fire crackle.

Unable to take it any longer, Jayce reaches out, pulse racing and mouth dry. He takes hold of his tattooed wrist in his hand, suddenly hyper-aware how big it is compared to Viktor’s.  

He brings Viktor’s delicate hand into his lap, surprised to find he doesn’t pull away. Jayce holds it there, palm up, ghosting his fingers gently along it. 

His mouth opens and he has so many things he wants to say, to yell, to scream off the top of the tower looming above them. And yet he can’t will anything out of his body. 

So he acts. 

Jayce turns, pushing himself up onto his knees and closing the distance between them. Viktor sucks in a breath and his book tumbles off the side of the bed with a loud thump. 

Jayce busies himself with Viktor’s robe. He bites his lip against his nervousness and unties the sash. He undoes it, spreading it open with shaky fingers, revealing Viktor’s pale body. 

The firelight makes shadows dance across the sharp peaks and rivines of his thin frame. Jayce removes his own shirt quickly, avoiding Viktor’s gaze as he pushes the robe off too. His shoulders jut out sharply in sinewy muscle.  

It’s then, in the hiss and crack of the fire and their sharp breathing, that Jayce notices for the first time that one arm is more ruggedly muscled than the other from the labor of constantly holding his weight. 

Jayce pulls the robe out from under him and slides one arm in between Viktor and the sheets, taking hold along his back and pulling him gently so he’s lying down. 

He feels light in his grip with bones like a bird. Viktor’s hands are flighty over Jayce’s chest and then his own, catching on the bolts there before ghosting along his belly, the muscles there now heaving and taut from his anxious breathing and the sensation of being touched. 

His body’s intense response makes Jayce wonder how long it’s been since someone has touched him like this. 

Jayce kneels in between his legs, bending one upwards, and almost jumping out of his skin when Viktor quietly yelps. 

Jayce freezes instantly. “Are you okay?” he asks urgently. 

Viktor winces. “Yes,” he says quietly. “It is fine. I was just caught off guard.” 

“Here,” Jayce suggests, pulling one of the pillows from behind his head and shoving it under his lean thigh. 

Jayce sighs out in relief the same moment Viktor does, hovering over him. Their eyes finally meet, and it makes Jayce tremble. 

Suddenly, the certainty of what they’re about to do wallops Jayce right over the head. Viktor’s gazing up at him, now laid out and almost completely bare, and he has no idea what to do with the expression on his face. 

Jayce swallows heavily as he takes both hands, and purposefully places them along Viktor’s ribs, sliding down each side of his body until he reaches his tiny waist. 

Viktor sighs at his touch, one hand gripping into the sheets tightly as his head is thrown back slightly. Jayce slides further down to the smallest part of his waist and over craggy hips, hooking his fingers in the hem of his plain underwear. 

Viktor shakes beneath his touch, but allows Jayce to pull them down. He tries to keep his focus on swiftly sliding them off his legs, but can’t help but find himself staring at Viktor, laid half hard across his belly. 

There’s something shockingly captivating about him in that moment, all vulnerability and nerves. Maybe this isn’t what either of them wanted. Maybe it’ll never be perfect. But Jayce values that Viktor is trusting him with this. 

Jayce drops Viktor’s underwear to the ground and then lays back and lifts his hips to quickly undo his own, blushing deeply when he notices Viktor’s eyes drop curiously low. 

He moves forward. “Can I?” 

Viktor nods silently, sucking in a breath as Jayce lays himself over him. They both make quiet noises as their bodies connect and he buries one side of his face in the pillow besides Viktor’s ear. His skin is cool and smooth against his and his hips dig into his abdomen. 

Feeling unsure of where to put his hands, Jayce takes hold of the headboard with one hand and lays the other flat on the mattress. He props himself up slightly on his arms to keep from crushing Viktor with all of his weight. Then, he closes his eyes and rocks forward, sighing when Viktor slides his fingers down the back of his bicep. 

He finds the heat between them enticing and so he sinks one hand between them to adjust himself, giving himself a few strokes in hopes of getting harder faster. In doing so he brushes against Viktor which pulls a pained whine from him. 

He watches his lips pull back from his teeth as his brow creases deeply. It’s such a strange amalgamation of pain and pleasure, and Jayce is caught off guard when Viktor opens his eyes, now dark and hooded and equally terrified. 

Jayce slides his hand down Viktor’s ribs taking hold of his hip to give himself some leverage as he rocks into him again, slowly at first, and then picking up pace. He shifts, his nose now brushing along Viktor’s neck. 

He still smells like a summer rainstorm, now covered up by soap and the herbal scent of the salve he uses on his leg. Jayce’s breath gets caught in his throat when he feels the first pang of pleasure pulse low in his belly. It is overtaken by his worry.

“Viktor—-,” he whispers raggedly in his ear. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” his Consort murmurs, his voice also fractured by the heat of the moment. 

“Right,” he responds, quickly pulling away to retrieve the oil. 

He pours some over his hand, his chest and ears burning with embarrassment as he takes hold of himself and strokes himself fully hard. 

He gently coaxes Viktor’s legs apart. “I’m just going to—-,” 

Viktor nods before he can finish and the fire roars louder, the candles by their bed suddenly lighting all on their own. The chandelier hums to bright life for a second before going dark again. 

Jayce tries his damnedest to ignore whatever Viktor’s powers are doing right now and spreads Viktor open, sinking one and then two fingers in gently, opening him up. 

The lights go haywire again, the fire roaring so loudly behind him he’s afraid it might light the rug on fire. 

“Relax,” he sighs, shifting his shoulder, his forehead resting against Viktor’s chest as he works him open. The bolts there are strange and cold feeling against his forehead. 

“Just relax,” he says again, stroking himself quick and efficiently and then sinking himself into Viktor in one smooth motion. 

Viktor cries out at the invasion, and Jayce groans into Viktor’s shoulder as he’s enveloped by the shocking warmth of him. 

Viktor throws his arm around Jayce’s neck the same time Viktor slides his arm around his back, more cool bolts sliding roughly across his forearm. He instinctively drops it lower, cupping his ass in his hand and lifting his hips up to meet his, and sinks into him again. 

His rhythm is slow and steady at first, and Viktor does what he did before; clings to him frantically and stifles his wines in his chest. Jayce’s eyes roll back in his head as he quickens his pace, adjusting the pillow under Viktor’s leg when it slips. 

“Is this okay?” he pleads hoarsely, hoping to Kindred he is not hurting him. 

“Yes,” Viktor says, and Jayce’s eyes open because it sounds like a moan. 

His grip bears down so hard on Jayce’s shoulder he might break the skin, and he throws his head back into the pillow, exposing the long length of his pale neck. 

Viktor drags his teeth along his bottom lip, making it shine with spit and then suddenly Jayce shudders. His thrusts turn erratic and then he's abruptly barreling over the edge.

Fuck!” he groans loudly, seeing stars as he comes deep inside Viktor. 

He crumbles over top of Viktor, hips stuttering with the fireworks of his aftershocks. Viktor huffs punched out little moans to the ceiling with each thrust, his grip loosening on Jayce’s back as he stills inside him. 

It is burning and slick with sweat between them, and Jayce can feel where Viktor’s hot need still throbs against his belly. 

Unsure of what else to do, he pulls out, the cold reality of their situation viciously gripping him again and deep embarrassment tightening his chest. Jayce rolls onto his back, gasping for breath as he stares up at the ceiling. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he disappears into the muddled current of his racing thoughts, but when he blinks himself back into focus, his skin is cold and sticky and he shivers. It’s then that he realizes the fire has gone out. 

He sits up on his elbow and turns to face Viktor, only to find he has turned away from him, coiled up with his knees to his belly. Jayce trails his eyes down the length of his spine and the sharp curve of his hip, wondering how he’s come to be forever entangled with this absurd and mythical being. 

Jayce wishes he had told him goodnight. And so he whispers it softly near his ear, pulls the blankets up over his shoulder, and slips quietly to the lavatory to wash the weight of the day away in the shower. 

Chapter Text

When Viktor wakes, he is still aching between his legs. 

Last night was…

Last night was strange. To say the least. He had thought he had prepared himself for it. For that type of intimacy with his Sovran. He thought he had gone through every step to make it so they could get through what was required of them easily. But when the time came, Viktor found his lack of experience with such matters quite debilitating. He didn’t know what to do, felt as if he was outside his body, or lost inside his head. And the need that raged through every inch of him was completely unexpected and utterly overwhelming. 

The thing is, he was little more than a boy when he had a brief involvement with a man much older than him. Nineteen and only with Silco for three years. His lover was a patron of Vander and Silco’s bar, and Viktor sought him out, purely out of curiosity. 

And while the physical parts of their involvement had given him some pleasure, enough for them to meet up multiple times. Except, Viktor had found by the fourth time he was still left feeling cold in a way he couldn’t explain. In a way he didn’t like. Something was missing. Something he couldn’t even describe if someone asked him. The fifth time he tried, he couldn’t get aroused. The last time he tried, he cried in frustration and confusion as to why his body wouldn’t respond when his brain wanted it to. 

It felt illogical. 

It felt cruel.

The man was sweet. He told him he was still beautiful and kissed him on his wet cheek. And yet, Viktor couldn’t understand why he felt so misshapen and wrong. Why was this one more thing where he couldn’t just be like everyone else? 

And so he never sought another out after that. It seemed pointless. He would be left disappointing them and himself. So instead he threw himself into his science and his magic. 

Viktor sighs, shoving the thoughts away. He shifts uncomfortably and rolls onto his belly, his hips involuntarily hitching forward. He groans into the pillow with intense frustration, breathing out in a hiss when he palms himself. 

The position makes his back ache, and so he turns to his side, shoving his hand between where he drives his knees together. He blinks his eyes open only to find he is face to face with a sleeping Jayce. 

His Sovran is on his belly, one arm hung over his pillow and half his face buried into the down. His breathing is slow and heavy, and that bewildered concern he’s come to gaze upon Viktor with is absent from his face. His lips are sleep-swollen and Viktor can see where his eyes move quickly behind his eyelids, dreaming. He looks peaceful, the weight of Piltover itself lifted from his brow and shoulders.

Viktor unfurls his arm and reaches out, hesitating only briefly, before brushing Jayce’s hair back from his face. He ghosts his fingers over the strange markings there for a moment. It is so strange how they call to him so. He creases his brow when they undulate, the colors flowing inside the marks like a silvery oil stain. There’s a flash of light inside that shines, luring him to touch. 

Viktor presses his fingers gently to Jayce’s skin. All at once, he loses his sense of everything around him and feels as if he’s falling through an endless void of stars and color. A little boy with wide hazel eyes gazes up at him like he’s a ghost, and then he morphs into a great snarling beast, changes again, and it’s a creature unlike anything Viktor has ever seen; with a split face and an all seeing limb behind its head like a halo. 

“No, wait!” the child wails. Viktor turns in fear to search for the boy, but all he finds is Jayce. It is his Sovran, but not as Viktor has ever known him. He is scarred and bearded with hair in wild tendrils whispering around his shoulders. He holds what appears to be a child. A baby, swaddled and tucked protectively against his chest. Then, horrifyingly, his face breaks into agony, his eyes and every orifice of his face radiating pure light. Jayce cries out in terror, his arm outstretched and his hand desperately grasping for him.

He wails his name. 

“ Viktor !” 

Viktor! Viktor! Viktor! 

Viktor sucks in a ragged breath, his chest painfully tight with the effort. He’s clawing and trying to shove something heavy off of him.

“Viktor!”

Jayce says his name. He forces himself to open his eyes to find him on top of him holding his wrists back from where he’s tried to scratch him. 

Jayce’s eyes peer at him, wide and worried, his brow wet with sweat, and Viktor finally relaxes when he realizes where he is. 

“Hey!” Jayce whispers urgently. “It’s just me! It’s just me!” 

Viktor’s eyes bolt around the room to check. But no. He is still in their bedroom. The morning is unchanged from how it was a few moments ago when he woke. 

“Are you okay?” Jayce asks him, face pinched with concern. He releases him from his firm grip. 

Viktor shifts under him, his mind finally settling into clarity. “Yes,” he rasps, still breathless. “Yes. I’m fine.” 

“Were you having a nightmare?” Jayce asks worriedly. 

Viktor shakes his head, unsure. Swallows. “I didn’t think I was dreaming. But–maybe I was–I’ve seen it before, but this time it was different.” 

“Different? What did you see?” 

“You were there,” Viktor says, gazing up at him curiously.  

“Me?” 

“Yes.” You were holding a child , he thinks but doesn’t voice. 

As Viktor says the words, he comes fully back into his body and realizes Jayce's weight is heavy between his legs. Kristos , the pain, the need. It’s all too fucking much. And he doesn’t know why his body has chosen now to respond. After all this time. With a man who has no interest in him. 

Jayce freezes. 

Viktor scrubs his hand roughly over his face, then brings his fist down heavily onto Jayce’s pillow. 

“I–I–I am. Fine,” he grits out, sitting up. 

Jayce falls helplessly onto his elbow. “Viktor, it’s okay. It’s—” 

“ Nothing you’d care to fix ” he mutters angrily under his breath, not listening to him anymore as he reaches for his cane. Nothing worth fixing , he thinks pitifully.

He winces as he bends down and grabs his robe, sliding it awkwardly over his shoulders, then beelines it as fast as he can around the bed and towards the lavatory, desperate for a shower. He’s still sticky and every inch of him is crawling with him. Every inch of him is crawling with humiliating memories and Piltover’s crushing expectations, and how even with all this magic inside of him his body still fails him at every turn.

This isn’t going to work. His vision had shown him well enough.

But then there’s a tight hold at his wrist and he is spun around, finding himself craning his neck to scowl up at his Sovran. 

“What did you say?” Jayce rasps between gritted teeth. 

Viktor’s fist tightens around the handle of his cane. He all but hisses. “I said —my predicament is nothing you’d care to fix.” 

Jayce’s face falls and his eyes go wide, all of his anger suddenly going out of his body, but Viktor doesn’t care to assess whatever it means. 

He continues. “I wish not to be subjected to this– torture –any longer!” 

“Torture!” Jayce mutters, his voice turning frantic. “Viktor I don’t understand.” He holds him in place. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.” 

Viktor straightens. “What I wish, is for you to let go of my wrist so I can take a shower. What I wish! Is to spend the rest of the day undisturbed at my work bench. What I wish— is to be left alone until tonight when we need to perform our mutual Burden once more!”

With that, Viktor rips his hand from Jayce’s grip and slams the lavatory door in his face. He turns on the water and lets his cane and robe fall to the floor in a pile. Viktor slips into the scalding hot water, letting it rush down his back. His forehead finds the cool tile and then he falls to the floor, tears flooding his eyes as every emotion he’s tried to stamp down comes roaring over him for the first time since he’s left Zaun. 

Lightning thrashes outside the window, the wind howls, and the lights flicker violently.

Jayce does not attempt to open the door.

Viktor works on it with the help of the runes all through the afternoon. His lunch sits in the corner uneaten. An idea came to him, after he struggled to pick himself up off the slippery shower floor, of how he could make tonight less unbearable. 

He realizes now that he had been overcome with emotion, with everything that he’d try to let be. To accept. He had lashed out. And it has now made the idea of the intimacy that was expected of them tonight feel entirely embarrassing. 

Viktor tries again, raising his hand and closing his eyes. He searches inwardly for the arcane, feels it stirring. He catches it, takes in the way it breathes and moves. He brings it all forward, pulled to him the same way he was pulled to it this morning with Jayce’s markings. Viktor breathes in and out, ignoring how Rio hisses and squeals around his ankles, and centers all the power he feels in his chest. 

As the force of it gathers and he can still it in his chest, Viktor’s pain suddenly dwindles in his leg and hip and back. He leans less on his cane, until he drops it, and stands straight on his own. Viktor opens his eyes and focuses on Rio who still moves below him. It takes some effort, but once he feels her own magic inside of her, once he finds it deep within, he takes hold of that too, and finds that he can manipulate it. Command it. 

Still .

Be Still.

After a long moment, mid-step, Rio is frozen. 

Viktor grins, and Rio instantly releases. 

“Good girl,” Viktor praises, offering her a piece of bread off his plate. She drenches his hand in spit and he wipes it with a roll of his eyes on his tunic. 

Rio puts her head on his lap, purring. “I think this will work,” he tells her, light and surprised. He pats her lovingly. “It just may work.” 

It’s late when Viktor arrives back to their chambers. He finds Jayce spread out on the lounge sofa in front of the fire, his head cradled by a velvet pillow and one leg hanging off. He’s too big for it lying down and looks rather ridiculous rolling his rocks glass along the coffee table with one hand while the other holds a book open in front of his face. 

He slaps it shut when he hears Viktor, resting it on his broad chest, and frowns. 

“Good evening,” he says, rough around the edges and laced with ill humor. 

Viktor makes his way inside the room, pausing at the bed to remove his leg brace. He peels off his boots and socks, and stalks over to stand in front of the fire, sliding the coffee table out of his way with his cane. 

Jayce sits up like he’s going to stand. 

Viktor stops him with the tip of his cane along his chest. 

“Don’t get up,” he tells him. 

Jayce pulls a face, wrapping one hand around the cane.. “Viktor—can we—-“

“Don’t speak,” he interrupts, pressing harder at his chest. 

Jayce’s back hits the back of the bench, his skin tanned and the deep hills and valleys of his muscles sharpened by the flicker of the firelight. Viktor spreads his legs wide with his cane before resting it nearby. 

His mouth opens, eyes wide. Dumbfounded. 

Viktor stands in between Jayce’s thighs, peering down at him. It is a strange sight, watching Jayce peer up at him, as confused and overwhelmed as he had been that first night Jayce pretended to bed him. 

The light flickers eerily in his hazel irises and something shivers through Viktor when they drop to where his hands are busy undoing the clasps of his own tunic. 

He pulls out a bottle of oil from his pocket, resting it beside Jayce then slides it off, baring his chest and back brace. Then slips his hands down his body to his trousers, unbuttoning them and letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. He does the same with his small clothes, all the while keeping his attention on finding the arcane he discovered inside Jayce this morning. 

Jayce stares at Viktor, all of him, standing before him in nothing but his brace, mystified. 

“Vik—-,” he gulps. “What are—-?“

Viktor tugs at the presence inside of him and then holds it still. Jayce stiffens.

“I said don’t speak,” he repeats, unlacing Jayce’s pants and small clothes and tugging them to his ankles. He is shocked to find his Sovran half hard and throbbing against his belly. 

Viktor whispers the Incantation, the snakelike hisses and rasps of the Ancients’ language sparks the magic within him, searching and securing every ligament, bone, and muscle. Then sets them free. 

It is only temporary, but it will do. 

He immediately straddles Jayce, who groans at the contact, low and choked out. Viktor anchors himself by holding tightly at the back of Jayce’s neck, before slicking his hand and offering Jayce’s hard length a few hard strokes. 

Jayce stutters and gasps as he pumps, tight and efficient. He oils his fingers again, then blindly opens himself up, shaking with nervousness all the while. He’d already opened himself privately before he came searching for Jayce, but with the sheer girth and length of his stranger-husband he’s come to know last night, it certainly cannot hurt to be extra prepared.

Jayce’s gaze surprisingly darkens as he does so, staring up at him through his lashes, but Viktor doesn’t let himself examine that. With an outward breath he sinks himself down fully onto Jayce, the sensation of him filling him up along with all of his terrible pain gone makes him moan wantonly. 

Jayce groans too, his face tight with arousal. 

“Listen,” Viktor hisses, slowly moving up and back down, finding his own type of rhythm. “We don’t need to fall in love. We don’t even need to be friends. But—“ 

He sighs, picking up his pace to a level he could never keep without the magic. “I want this. I want this child. And you're the key to that. Let’s be a team at least. Please .”

“Aah!” he cries out, feeling Jayce hit a particularly sensitive spot. 

He lets the magic’s grip on Jayce lessen and shudders when his hands instantly take hold of his waist, thumbs digging into his hip bones as he guides his movements and keeps the drum of their need. 

“We can be partners,” Jayce pants, thrashing his hips upwards frantically to catch the most friction. “I’ll give you—“ 

He doesn’t finish his thought because Viktor rocks down on him heavily one more time and Jayce is already hurtling over the precipice. He convulses hot and thick inside of him, his vibrations making Viktor shudder. A guttural sob is torn from Jayce’s chest and it echoes loudly to the tall ceilings of their bedroom. 

“Whatever you want,” Jayce finishes weakly, sinking his hand in between them. 

The magic starts to fade along with Viktor's hold on Jayce. His pain slowly returns, flooding from his brain to every nerve ending like a million roaring trains.  

Viktor slaps him away. 

“Don’t,” he says. “Please don’t unless you mean it.” 

Jayce’s brows knit together and he bares his teeth, indignant. 

He slides his fingers through one of the leather straps of Viktor's brace and pulls. He cries out a wrecked sob when Jayce bites down hard at the thin skin of his neck, all the while slipping his hand between them. 

He wraps his hand around Viktor's long neglected ache, pumping him hard and tight. He’s too rough and a little off the mark, but it only takes another stroke and one more drag of his teeth across skin and then Viktor is entirely unraveled. 

His back arches harshly, Jayce’s hand secured at his waist as wild and miraculous pleasure he's never felt before rolls over him like a tidal wave. Viktor moans, and when he opens his eyes he can see there is bright white light bursting out of him in every direction. 

It swallows up the whole room for an instant before being snuffed out. 

Viktor instantly collapses onto Jayce, limbs heavy and loose and unable to form a coherent thought other than he can hear Jayce’s heartbeat beating wildly in his ear. 

Jayce curses, the low vibration of his voice in his chest echoing through Viktor’s skull. Then he’s being lifted, and stretched out onto his back on the bed, a warm, damp cloth brushed tenderly over his belly and in between his thighs. 

He groans and mutters in pain, cursing and ranting senseless whispers in his dead mother’s language, as Jayce helps him out of his back brace. 

But the magic is gone now and he can’t open his eyes. He is unfit to fight it. The arcane sleeps within them now and so must he. 

Chapter Text

Jayce slips out of their bed the next morning before the sun is up, leaving Viktor hiding under the mountain of down, still lost to sleep. 

He trails quietly down to the kitchens, stealing a piece of bread and cheese off the cutting board, and makes his way outside to the gardens. The moon is large and white against the horizon as it slips into the pink clouds of sunrise. 

Jayce paces quickly through the trails of high hedges and marble statues, his breath coming out in foggy huffs, until he makes it to the pond. 

Not really a pond. With its size and depth it is truly a lake, stocked with fish for the nobles of his court to catch. Jayce trails down the hill towards its edge, stopping to take off his clothing. 

He can’t make sense of it. Viktor’s mood, ever changing. His behavior last night, every touch, every glance, every bite of his lip and brutal roll of his hips burned with an anger Jayce has never seen from him. And need. As if he’d caught a fever. As if he was possessed with it.

Jayce was pure bewilderment as Viktor loomed over him and pinned him down with what he could only assume was magic. The look in his eyes as he watched him from above, his thin frame glowing in the firelight softening his sharp edges as he stood pale and naked before him. 

Jayce found his body responding in ways he never imagined. Suffering and angry for it. For Viktor to touch him, hit him, kiss him.  

Viktor did not kiss him. 

The dew is cold under his feet and he shivers, padding his way swiftly down the bank and diving head first into the icy water, reemerging for a breath as he swims quickly out into its depths. Each stroke a prayer to Kindred to make sense of his feelings.

It goes on like that for weeks. 

Cold and cordial during the day, most often separating and drowning themselves in their own work.

Then night falls, and Jayce gives Viktor what he wants. He fucks him quick and rough, like it’s nothing more than part of his job. A Sovran’s duty.

All the while he feels as if he is dying inside, trying desperately to force down his fury and desperation at the fact that Viktor won’t let him touch him again. He won’t let him bring him pleasure, no matter how many times Jayce tries. 

He’s pulled a veil over himself that wasn’t there before, as if Viktor doesn’t want Jayce to know him at all. And it’s all made worse when at the end of the first month, Viktor sees the doctor. 

Jayce is in his solar when there's a knock at the door. He quickly shuffles his papers away and stands. He already knows it’s him and his heart pounds nervously in his chest, hands turning clammy. He wipes them anxiously on his pants. 

“Come in,” he says, clearing the roughness from his throat. 

Viktor is dressed more formally today, in a burgundy mage’s tunic and gold belt. He pulls his hood down from his head when he enters, twisting his mouth into a tight smile as he sits in the chair across from Jayce’s desk. He fiddles with his hand in his lap.

“Well,” he starts, voice already cracking with emotion even as he smiles, tapping along the padded armrest shakily. “It seems nothing’s come of it.” 

Jayce stills, shoulders slumping forward. “Nothing at all?” he asks stupidly, a nauseating mixture or shock and relief coming over him all at once. 

Viktor’s lip quivers, pretty amber eyes wet when he finally gazes up at him. The look on his face is enough to shatter Jayce’s heart. 

Without questioning himself, he goes to Viktor instantly, sinking to his knees and gathering him into an awkward hug. Viktor rubs his hand lightly over Jayce’s back, and then Jayce lifts up, wedging himself between his legs and taking hold of Viktor’s chin between his fingers. 

‘This doesn’t mean anything,” he says with determination he isn’t sure he feels. “We can keep trying.” 

“What’s the use,” Viktor says dejectedly, a tear slipping down his face. His whole body quivers with heartbreak and anger. “You’ve spilled your seed into me every night for the better part of a month! It is useless. It was bound not to work. Like I told you before–I am a pale echo of the Ancients’. It is my body….it’s misshapen and broken. That must have something to do with it.” 

Jayce shakes his head adamantly, forcing Viktor to meet his eyes again. “No,” he almost growls. “Don’t do that. You’re not doing that.” 

He takes a deep breath, building up the gumption to bring it up. “Look, I’ve been doing some reading. I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way. Conceiving is near impossible when both parties are stressed. I think we should try things a little differently.” 

He takes hold of Viktor’s hands in his. “I think we just need to calm it down a little. Things have been so fraught and awkward between us recently. I think—-if you would let me—if you would let me try to pleasure you. It could help you relax.” 

Viktor sighs, pulling his hands out of Jayce’s grasp. “Jayce, we’ve been over this. We said we weren’t gonna push things. Friendship or otherwise. We can’t force ourselves. It has to come naturally.” 

Jayce falls back on his ankles. “Well it’s quite hard to find those feelings when we spend most of our days apart, and most of our nights wishing we were anywhere but in bed with each other! It hardly seems like a climate to invite a child into! You avoid me at every turn!” 

“You said your duties were piling up! I only sought to give you space!” Viktor argues. 

“You treat me like a stranger holding you captive! I don’t want to fuck you like you're some sort of prostitute from the depths of the Undercity! Anymore!” Jayce snaps back. “It hardly leaves me sprinting to our walks or wanting to make time for each other like we once did!” 

Viktor’s expression falters in surprise. His mouth snaps shut and he works his jaw, but for once doesn’t have a sharp retort at the ready.

Jayce softens, feeling as if the wind has been blown out of his sails. “What I mean….what I mean to say—is that I think if we tried a different approach. Maybe with a little more affection. It might lead to better results.” He regards Viktor seriously. “If a child is still what you desire.” 

Viktor nods, and Jayce is happy when he lets him slide his fingers through his. They watch each other intently for a long minute, and then Jayce smiles softly at him. He gingerly moves forward, resting in between Viktor’s legs, one hand on either thigh, and leans in, capturing Viktor’s mouth in his. 

Except this isn’t the chaste kiss he’s offered before. He sucks at Viktor’s bottom lip, and then is completely devoured with the sudden need to taste him. Viktor gasps into his mouth, his hand coming to the back of his neck, where his cold fingers dig in. His response drives Jayce on.

“Let me fix this,” Jayce breathes passionately, licking along his lip before sliding his tongue inside Viktor’s mouth. Vikor responds instantly, meeting him forcefully and equally like he never has before. He licks and kisses into Jayce’s mouth, a low, anxious hum at the back of his throat making Jayce’s whole body light aflame. 

Jayce slides his fingers through Viktor’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening their first true kiss. “I am your Sovran,” he mutters, breaking away and trailing kisses along Viktor’s jaw and down his neck, pulling the collar of his tunic down and kissing the top of his pale chest. “Let me fix this. I want—-,” 

Viktor moans quietly, wrapping his good leg around the back of Jayce’s shoulder, his whole body finally eager for his touch. Then he opens his eyes, brows knitted together and his expression overflowing with emotion. 

“Tell me,” he whispers. “What is it that you want?” 

“I want—,” Jayce breathes, the realization crashing over him like the lightning Viktor compels with his magic. He gazes up at his Consort, low from where his chin rests near his navel. Viktor’s eyes search his fiercely, and he plucks the truth out of him. 

“I want you,” Jayce proclaims, his voice low and wanton. 

Viktor sighs out at that, as if he wasn’t expecting it. 

“I want to make you feel good,” Jayce continues, almost lost to it now, as if by declaring it the floodgates have opened up. 

He tears at his gold chained belt, the pieces sliding to the floor then shoves Viktor’s tunic up over his hips, kissing along his taut belly, relishing when the muscles contract with each caress.

“Let me make you feel good,” he says again, drunk with desire. He cannot think of anything else.

Viktor does not spurn or deny him. He does not push him away. 

So Jayce undoes Viktor’s leg brace as fast as he can before hooking his fingers at the waist of Viktor’s trousers, tugging them off completely and throwing them away. He kisses up his bruised thigh all the while chanting soft praises. 

“I’ll make you feel good,” he whispers against his skin, licking in between his legs, lighting up when Viktor sucks in another ragged breath. 

He delights when he cries out as Jayce finally takes him in his hand, holding tightly at the base of his pretty cock. Jayce has never done this before. He’s a novice, his technique probably plain and unpracticed. And yet, he finds he doesn’t really care. 

He doesn’t care at all. All he wants is to have him. 

Jayce licks experimentally at his head, entirely transfixed at how he throbs for him. Except Viktor lets out a vociferous whine and curses in a language Jayce doesn’t know, and then he cannot contain himself any longer. He takes him fully in his mouth, swallowing him down until he feels him at the back of his throat. Viktor moans, something shattering and deep from his chest as Jayce makes use of his hands, pinning him to the chair. His own cock hard and pressing greedily where he’s still tucked away.

Viktor rocks mindlessly into him, and Jayce licks greedily, then takes him fully in his mouth again, sucking and bobbing his head in a  steady rhythm that matches Viktor’s hips. 

Viktor pulses inside his mouth, the soft gathering of hair at his center drenched with spit and sweat, and Jayce knows he’s almost there. 

He slides his lithe fingers through Jayce’s hair. 

“Jayce,” he begs, trying to pull him off. Jayce takes hold of his wrists in both hands, shifting on his knees to get a better angle and pins them to his sides, all the while sucking and lapping at him. 

Viktor moans and tries to fight him off, but one last steady pull from his mouth makes his entire body go rigid. 

“Jayce!” he cries with a whole body shudder as he spills hot and sweet at the back of Jacye’s throat. His mouth opens in silent ruin and his head goes back, craning his neck as he looks to the ceiling. And Jayce’s eyes widen with disbelief as light pours out of him again, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, just like that night when he had him pinned on the sofa. It’s white and so bright that it makes Jayce squeeze his eyes shut, all the while swallowing down his liquid offering. 

Viktor reaches out to him with a shaking hand, and that’s when Jayce realizes his markings are glowing too. Before he endeavors to understand what is happening Viktor’s fingers brush over his skin, and Jayce is falling. 

Years, decades, entire realities stretch before him. And in every one he is there. Viktor. There isn’t a place Jayce exists without finding him. Without needing him. 

Without loving him. 

In the end, he always chooses him. 

Then Jayce blinks and the visions stop. He’s back where he started, gazing up at Viktor who has sat up now, heaving for breath and tears in his amber eyes, utterly dumbstruck. 

Jayce stands up on his knees, and Viktor raises his brows to his hairline fearfully. 

“Did you see it too?” he asks Jayce, accent thick with his emotion.

Jayce wipes his mouth and propels forward kissing him again, tasting the salt of his sweat and tears. 

“Yes,” he whispers, scooping him up and pulling his thighs around his waist. He kisses him again and again all the while chanting. Yes. Yes. Yes.

It has shifted. Finally. That ungraspable thing Jayce could never put words to since the moment Viktor was revealed to him in the cathedral ages ago. And now, within a tenth of a second, on this unspectacular, cloudy day, it’s all become so clear. 

How couldn’t he have known? 

Jayce holds Viktor to him with one hand while swiping all the paperwork he’d just organized off of his desk. 

He sets Viktor down, all the while kissing and biting at his neck. Viktor cries out and Jayce leaps to attention. 

“What is it?” he breathes. 

Viktor swallows, his face pained. “It’s my leg.” 

Jayce immediately cups his thigh and lifts it up. “Better?” 

Viktor nods, and lies back on the table, gazing up at him through his lashes. 

Jayce swipes his thumb across his bottom lip. “Are you sure?” he says. 

“I don’t care,” Viktor sighs. “I don’t care. Please .”

Jayce groans at his words, fumbling with the fastenings of his pants. He shoves them awkwardly off of his hips, gasping into Viktor’s leather and metal clad chest when he finally feels his skin on his.

Jayce wets two fingers with oil from his drawer, opening Viktor up. Viktor’s nails dig into his chest when hooks them just so, gently working him into readiness. 

“Please,” he says again, making Jayce bite his lip with the drowning waves of pleasure that torment him. He unceremoniously slicks himself before sinking deep into his Consort. 

Viktor arches his back, head thrown halfway off the desk, anchored by Jayce gripping tightly at his brace, his other hand cradling his leg. Clipped groans stutter from Jayce’s chest as he delves himself deeper and deeper. He falls over Viktor, one hand coming up to caress his face. 

“Look at me,” he says, voice rough with want. “Look at me.” 

Viktor’s eyelids flutter, lashes wet with sweat and lingering tears. His eyes, pots of ambered honey, blown black with desire, finally meet his. Jayce kisses him then, sloppy and begging, before sinking his hand between them, all the while never breaking eye contact. 

He takes Viktor in his hand, already hard and dripping again, pumping him in rhythm with his unforgiving thrusts. Viktor exclaims softly in a language he doesn’t understand. 

“Again,” he demands, whispering into Viktor’s mouth. “Come for me.” 

Viktor rolls his hips into his grip. He is gorgeous, sighing and whining with pleasure all at Jayce’s hands. 

“Come for me,” he says again. 

Viktor wraps his arm around Jayce’s neck, clinging to him as he mews into his chest, just like that first time when they were nervous and faking it. Except now Jayce has the satisfaction of knowing it’s all because of him. His Consort finally cries out brokenly one more time before shuddering hot liquid over Jayce’s fist. 

His whole body constricts around him, so warm and bewitching. Jayce thrusts into him deeply once, twice, three times, before he moans into Vitors’s neck, his mind blissfully blank, chasing the last shocks of pleasure like he was chasing stars in their vision. 

It feels like a long time before Viktor shifts underneath him, rousing his hulking body awake again. The room is silent except for their tired breathing. 

Jayce lifts his head, heavy and hazy with satiation, to find Viktor watching him. Jayce grins, nuzzling his nose lightly before placing a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

His chest warms as Viktor’s normally guarded face breaks open into an incandescent smile to match. Jayce licks along his sharp incisor, sucking on his swollen bottom lip. 

“This is how I’ll give you a baby,” he whispers, brushing his damp hair back from his face. “This is how it should have always been.” 

Viktor’s eyes, wide and bright, illuminate white light again just for a moment before it dwindles like dying embers of a fire, and then, for the first time, he is the first to act, kissing Jayce deep and sweet and like he never wants to stop.  

Chapter Text

A few weeks later…

After a slew of meetings and a rather unfortunate encounter with the Governor of Demacia, Jayce trudges into the living rooms in search of a strong black coffee and a couch.

The heels of his boots echo along the wood floor as he stalks quickly into the parlor. Sunlight filters in through the sheer drapes that decorate the floor to ceiling windows, and Jayce stops in his tracks when he realizes the room is rather occupied. 

He finds a large three paneled mirror set up in the corner of the room and his Consort standing on a raised platform in front of it. He is half dressed in two different heavy fabrics, his shoulders slumped and staring mournfully at his reflection, looking every bit as if he is being tortured. 

The tailor, surrounded by his many assistants, throws a lighter, gauzy fabric the color of the sky over one of his shoulders. He regards him cheerily in the mirror. 

“Now this color, My Lord,” he says thoughtfully. “T’would suit you.” 

One side of Viktor’s lip curls up, revealing his sharp incisor. He shakes his head. 

“I don’t—think so,” he says skeptically, before spotting Jayce in the reflection. His brows turn up, eyes pleading. “Help me,” he mouths as the tailor turns away. 

Jayce huffs a laugh. He clears his throat pointedly. 

The tailor startles and turns towards him. “Oh!” he exclaims. “My Lord! We weren’t expecting you. The Consort’s costume for the ball is supposed to be a surprise, My Lord.” 

“Oh,” Jayce mutters, making a show of shading his brow with his hands and turning away slightly. “I–I–didn’t know, Sir! Uh–I was just looking to have some coffee.”

“Not at all, my Lord. We can finish our fittings tomorrow.” With that he unravels his Consort from the fabric swatches, leaving him in nothing but his leather braces and his small clothes. He bows quickly to Jayce and skitters out the door, his loyal army of servants following close behind. Viktor visibly shivers, bony knees going together as he wraps his arms around his middle. 

He reaches out for his cane, but before he can do so Jayce hops onto the platform, wrapping his arms around the back of Viktor, and burying his face in his neck, breathing him in. 

“I didn’t know I would see you so early,” he mumbles into Viktor’s skin. 

“Well, I am certainly glad we ran into each other,” Viktor replies sardonically. 

Jayce hugs him tighter, the bolts and leather along his spine pushing into his chest. “You looked as if he was torturing you.” 

Viktor chuckles then his brow furrows and he frowns grouchily. “The entirety of the morning has been incessant torment.”  

“Well,” Jayce says, sliding his large hand over Viktor’s taught belly and pulling at his ass to rub against his now quite intrigued cock. “Maybe I can make it a little better.” 

Viktor sighs out, eyes closing and head tilting back as Jayce bites kisses along the snowy length of his neck. Jayce slides his hand over Viktor’s chest and belly, his heart skipping in his chest nervously as he slips his hand under the band of his small clothes. 

Viktor breathes out a little moan when Jayce takes him in his palm. His breath hitches in his throat when Viktor turns, craning his neck to meet Jayce’s lips and capturing his mouth in a fervent kiss drenched with need. 

“Say it,” Jayce rasps between breaths as he grinds into Viktor’s backside. He dips one hand in between them to the front of his pants, blindly unlacing their fastenings and then unties the front of his small clothes. 

Viktor whines softly. 

“Say it,” Jayce commands again, more firmly now, all the while stroking him searingly slow. “Tell me you want it. I need—to hear you say it.” 

“I want it,” Viktor sighs out, biting at Jayce’s lip. 

“What do you want?” 

“I want you—to touch me.” 

“Where?” 

Viktor turns himself around then, hands clasping at Jayce’s face, his neck, and across his chest. “Everywhere.” 

His confession makes Jayce groan needily. He wraps his massive hands around Viktor’s small ass and thighs, pulling him up and around his waist, before jumping off the platform without looking and stalking towards the closest wall next to the window. The sconce rattles and Viktor stutters when his back hits it, even though Jayce is gentle as he can be. 

Viktor clings to his neck tighter, biting his earlobe as he whispers. “Don’t stop. I’m fine. Just hold my back and my ass, not my legs.” 

Jayce slides his hands up along his rear supporting him securely. Viktor is light in his grip as he scoots him higher up the wall. He peppers kisses all along Viktor’s cheek and jawline before capturing his mouth in another sloppy, impassioned kiss. He licks inside his mouth and sucks on the length of his tongue all while pulling himself swiftly out of his small clothes, already hard and dripping with precum. 

He brushes his slick along his silken length, then spits into his hand for good measure before tilting Viktor’s hips up and sinking himself brutally inside of him. Viktor sobs into his neck at the intrusion, cursing loudly into the empty room. 

Utterly overwhelmed by his desire, Jayce pummels into him over and over, mind blank with nothing but Viktor wrapped tightly around him. He takes hold of Viktor’s cock in his palm again, pumping him quickly, his whole body tensing as he pulses in his grip. 

It feels so good.

“Fuck Viktor,” he groans ragged and senseless into his ear. “I’m gonna come.” 

Viktor claws into his back and white stars burst behind his eyelids. 

“I’m gonna come!” he mutters again, choking on his words as he spills hard and deep inside of him. 

Viktor lights up in a blinding flash, Jayce’s orgasm pulling a helpless wail from his chest. His whole body seizes as he throws his head back into the wall, shivering violently as he spills hot liquid over Jayce’s fingers.

Afterwards, it takes them a long while to come back to themselves, clinging and licking sweat from each other's skin as their bodies relax. Then, Jayce softens and he extracts himself with a hiss before scooping Viktor up and lying him back on the settee. 

He shoves his soft cock back into his pants and then pours them both a glass of wine from the decanter on the coffee table, handing it to Viktor. Viktor peeks at Jayce from the corner of his eye, his face blushed and damp from their lovemaking. His smile is shy.

Jayce holds out his goblet and clinks glasses with him, grinning. 

“I told you,” Jayce says happily (and maybe a little smug). “It’s better this way.”

Viktor’s eyes brighten with humor and his smile widens, and Jayce thinks he doesn’t have to say anything else on the matter. 

He settles back into the seat, his sweaty chest prickling with goosebumps as he cools off. He examines the room in the early afternoon sunlight and their usual contemplative quiet settles over them. Only this time it is easy and comfortable.

He glances at Viktor again. “You looked nice,” he offers. “In the—the uh, fabric.” 

Viktor raises one dark eyebrow at him. “Hmph—,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know.” 

Jayce throws back the rest of his wine, then pulls Viktor’s chin up to face him. “You’re gonna look great. In whatever you pick.” He kisses him full on the mouth, delighting when Viktor’s thin fingers tug at him again, sliding his tongue to meet his. 

Jayce tears himself away, smiling down at him through his lashes.

“Let me take you back to our chambers.” 

Viktor lets go of him and shakes his head lightly. “No,” he replies. “I want to go to the lab. I’ve discovered something with the device you were designing. With my magic—I think—I think there might be something— interesting — there.”

Jayce bites his lip, surprised. “Huh, really?” He pushes off the couch and starts to try to straighten himself into something at least trying to be stately. He glances up at Viktor, watching him fiddle with his hands in his lap. 

“I wish I was in the lab with you,” Jayce states, the desire suddenly coming to him unbridled. He motions to the door with a disappointed huff and a roll of his eyes. “Instead of—all of this.” 

Viktor peers up at him, amber eyes alluring in the sunlight. He smiles softly. Surprised. “Me too, Jayce.” 

Jayce perches on the settee next to him again. “What time is your appointment tomorrow?” he asks seriously, brushing his fingers along the nape of his neck. 

Viktor’s eyes close briefly at the touch and that makes Jayce want to push him back onto the cushion and fuck him again. 

“It’s at nine o’clock,” Viktor answers. 

“Perfect,” Jayce says, standing up once more in an effort to keep his hands to himself. He flees for the exit. “I want to take you to the beach.” He hangs his hand on the ornate door handle that leads back towards the halls, eyes lingering on Viktor. 

“The beach?” Viktor asks, sitting up with curiosity. 

Jayce smiles back warmly. “Yeah. No matter the results, Vik. We should go feel the sun. You …should feel the ocean. We can—have a day off—ya know? From all of this.” 

Viktor smiles at him, something soft and sweet that is hard to come by. He nods. “I would like that.” 

Chapter Text

It’s the sound of the waves crashing that strikes him first. 

As they climb over the small dune, the sound is all-encompassing. It rushes into his ears. Viktor squints into the sunlight, shading his eyes against the high afternoon light as he takes in the overwhelming expanse of water laid before him like a rippling blanket. 

Jayce turns back to him and smiles broadly, his brow shining with sweat. 

His eyebrows go up expectantly, before he takes hold of Viktor’s forearm, allowing him to lean on him in place of his cane which had been left in the carriage. 

Viktor smiles back at him softly, trying desperately to ignore how the photographers and newspaper journalists who linger along the promenade watch them like hawks. It makes the hair on Viktor’s neck stand on end, the bolts in his back throbbing with vulnerability. 

“Ignore them,” Jayce says as they make their way towards where the sand is easier to walk on. Waiting there is a simple blanket stretched out beneath a large parasol. It’s been set up just for them.

Viktor stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he mutters, mouth twisting in surprise. Jayce peers at him shyly as he adjusts the umbrella. “Jayce—this is–all rather lovely.” 

The high planes of Jayce’s cheeks redden. “Really?” he asks hopefully then shakes his head to himself as busies himself with rooting through a picnic basket. He pulls out some cheese and fruit, and Viktor can’t help but let his eyes linger on his finely muscled arms, bare in the sun. 

Jayce is nervous, dressed in a dark red bathing costume, the thin straps and low cut neckline highlighting every curve and tendon that Viktor hasn’t been able to stop himself from obsessively thinking about these past few weeks. Since Jayce had suggested they change their tactics. Since he had taken him like he wanted him across the desk in his solar.

It’s all rather new and confusing for Viktor. He finds himself thinking about it, of him , in the shower, while he’s in the garden, when he’s in the library or locked away in his lab. At night when Jayce is running late and they hadn’t seen each other all day. It’s distracting, to say the least. And something Viktor has never experienced before. The feeling in his chest and the ache it harbors between his legs. It should be silly. Frivolous. And yet he can’t stop.

His heart flutters in his chest when Jayce reaches out for him. “Come,” he says. “Have something.” 

“I did just eat breakfast not that long ago,” Viktor notes, taking a piece of cheese and some bread. 

Jayce stuffs a huge chunk of bread into his mouth, grinning around his chewing. “You don’t eat enough, Vik.” His olive colored eyes scan brazenly over his body, as if it belongs to him, lingering along his naked belly and down his bare thighs. Viktor blushes deeply, both at the new nickname and the amorous glance equally. He doesn’t know what to make of the change in Jayce. It seems all his calculations and reasoning won’t give him clarity on the matter. There’s no concrete answer other than to allow his heart to speak for him instead of his mind. The thought is terrifying.

Viktor swallows and forces his attention back out towards the ocean, the sight of it making emotion burst behind his eyes. They haven’t talked about it yet. His appointment. Viktor had asked him to let it wait until later. He just wanted to enjoy the day together. It is the first time they’ve had a leisurely afternoon in each other's company since the morning after their wedding. 

“It’s magnificent,” he tells Jayce honestly, forcing his raging thoughts away. 

“Yeah,” Jacye agrees and then brushes his hands off. He stands up with zeal, claps, and then holds out his hands for Viktor to take.

“You ready?” he asks, his boyish excitement so palpable it’s as if he’s vibrating the sand around him. 

Viktor falters, mid chew. “Right now? I just—” 

Sat down.

“Yes!” he exclaims, pulling him up without waiting, leaving their snack forgotten for the gulls to find. He has quickly come to realize that having a spouse who can man handle you at any moment is rather wonderful for some things and wearisome in others.

“Well, alright!” Viktor huffs, almost losing his balance. He gazes up at Jayce, looming over him and blocking out the sun. Then his Sovran grins mischievously and gently pulls him into his arms as if he weighs nothing. 

His back twinges a little bit near his left hip at the change in position, but as soon as Jayce secures him against his chest he is more comfortable, suddenly very consumed with the fact that he is taking him towards the water. 

He wraps his arm around Jayce’s neck his body tensing. “Jayce!” he warns as the waves rush up, splashing against Jayce’s legs and along his bare back. He shudders, whatever he was originally going to say, leaving him instantly. “ Kristos ! It is freezing!” 

Jayce only holds him closer, beaming down at him as he continues to wade into the water. Another wave comes and another, drenching them both and Viktor’s heart leaps in his chest with excitement and the worry of relying on someone else. He doesn’t know how to swim, and even if he did his leg isn’t strong enough to keep himself above water for very long.

Another wave crashes, drenching both of them entirely, its white spray glittering in the sunlight behind them like crystals, and then…it’s gentler. Calm even. Jayce’s skin is balmy and solid against Viktor’s cheek and he lets go with one hand, letting it sink experimentally beneath the water in front of him. 

“You ready?” Jayce asks. Viktor sucks in a breath and nods his agreement. Ignoring the bells going off in his head. 

He glances out where the sky meets the horizon making it appear endless before meeting Jayce’s eyes. “Don’t let go, okay?” 

Jayce’s brow knits together. “Never,” he says in earnest. 

Slowly, Viktor starts to let go, letting himself trust as he sinks back into the water. Jayce’s hands slide to support his back and hips beneath the water. 

“Just—try to float,” Jayce instructs. “Keep your head up and calm your breathing. You should feel—-,”

“ Weightless ,” Viktor breathes out heavily like a sigh of relief, eyes wide with astonishment as he stares up at the blue sky only Piltover could provide. 

He watches Jayce’s smile falter as he listens to the sound of his own deep breathing under the water. 

“Yes,” Jayce murmurs, his eyes soft now in a way Viktor has never witnessed before. It makes him blush all over again. 

They stay like that for a long, long while. Jayce lets him rest in his arms. And he never lets go.

And with each swelling wave, the salt water carries some of Viktor’s pain and stiffness away, bringing something else in with the tide. Something new and rare and seizing his chest with fervor.

It occurs to him for the first time, in that very moment, that happiness, here, might be a possibility. Maybe something good could come from this arrangement after all. 

Viktor closes his eyes against the sun and lets Jayce’s strong hands keep him safe.

Their pictures are printed all across the evening newspapers. 

Jayce drops The Herald , The Piltover Times , and The Runeterra Review on the small round dining table in their chambers. Their silverware rattles and Viktor’s soup dribbles back into his bowl, eyes drifting over the papers’ front page. 

He swallows heavily, body stiffening.  “Is…” 

Jayce falls back into the chair across from him with a sigh. “Us—today. Yes.” 

Viktor scans the pages, embarrassment creeping up his neck at the sight of his painfully thin body pale and weak in the sunlight. The headlines read things like: 

“Sovran Couple Spend Time At Piltover’s Most Popular Beach. A Publicity Stunt To Distract From Marriage Troubles?”

“Consort With Child?! Inside Source Says No. Trencher Mage Has Struggled To Conceive.”

“Rumors Swirl If Consort Healthy Enough To Have Heir; Looking Sickly In Bathing Costume.”

“Sovran In Love With The Zaunite Waif?! See Scandalous Photographs Inside!”

Viktor swallows the hurt welling in his throat and studies how Jayce scowls at the headlines. 

He raises an eyebrow at him. “Well,” he scoffs, feigning lightness as he takes another bite of the chowder. “Those are becoming.” 

“They’re trash!” Jayce thunders furiously. “And to think these are considered Piltover’s finest news agencies! It’s obscene.”

Jayce frowns at him, broad shoulders shrinking. He reaches out to caress his wrist. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I guess people are curious about you, and it seems the papers are doing everything they can to keep them buying.” 

They are terrible, unresearched, sensational claims met to hit him where it hurts. Stir the pot, if you will , Viktor thinks as he watches Jayce’s callused forefinger brush along his skin. And yet, even through the hurt, he finds he does not care today.

“It is of little consequence to me at this juncture,” he tells Jayce truthfully. Jayce stills, eyes bolting upwards to look at him. 

What do you mean? They ask him. He sets the bite of soup he was about to eat back in his bowl. 

Viktor smiles, admiring how Jayce’s skin has darkened a little from the afternoon sun. So healthy and strong. He slides his fingers across his roughened knuckles. “It seems they’ve all got it wrong.” 

Jayce’s eyes widen so big it’s as if they might fall right out of his skull. 

“What do you mean?” he asks with a nervous laugh, his massive hand suddenly wrapping tightly around Viktor’s wrist. He brushes his thumb across his pulsepoint making Viktor’s whole body shiver excitedly.

Viktor’s heart stutters hard in his thin chest, almost taking his breath away. He sighs out with a smile.

Jayce’s mouth drops open. 

“The tests, Jayce. It appears your hypothesis was correct.” 

Jayce storms to his feet, the chair scraping loudly across the wood. 

“You’re—you’re,” he mutters senselessly, coming around the table to meet him. 

“With child,” Viktor breathes out, thoughts racing and the happiness he hadn’t let himself feel all morning finally roaring through him. 

“No!” Jayce says, eyes wet and face utterly astounded. 

“Yes!” Viktor counters, barely able to believe it himself. “Almost four weeks.” 

“ Four weeks !” Jayce repeats. He drops to his knees before him, turning Viktor and the entire chair so it faces him before sliding his hands tenderly up the sides of his thighs. The touch makes Viktor tremble with want. He chuckles as Jayce buries his face in his lap and kisses up his thighs and belly. Jayce rests his chin along his brace-free knee and grins up at him. His smile is incandescent.  

“Are you content?” Viktor asks, suddenly wanting to hear him say it. 

Jayce’s face falls a little in surprise before he beams again. “Immeasurably.” 

Relief washes over Viktor and his whole being relaxes instantly, his heart finally settling back down in his chest. 

“Are you?” Jayce asks, peeking up hesitantly from where he fiddles with a chain of Viktor’s belt. 

Viktor grins at him, and at the exact moment he does, Jayce’s silver crown lights up. 

His Sovran’s jaw drops open. He sits back on his ankles and swallows, staring at Viktor like he’s a being from another planet. 

Viktor’s cheeks burn. “Am I doing it again?” 

Jayce clears his throat. “Yeah,” he says with awe. “It was intense–just now.” 

Viktor hums, chewing on the inside of his lip as he files that information away. 

“You did too,” Viktor tells him and Jayce’s fingers immediately brush questioningly over his forehead. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Just a flash. But yes.” 

“Huh,” Jayce drawls, his face turning serious as it does when he’s filing paperwork in his solar. “That’s quite—-.”

“Strange?” Viktor finishes for him. 

“Yes,” Jayce agrees, flashing his charming gap. “I was going to say miraculous. But yes.” 

Viktor murmurs thoughtfully. 

“I’ll have to call a meeting with the Council tomorrow.” 

Viktor frowns. 

“You’ll have to attend, Vik.” 

“Heimerdinger was already down at the Infirmary today.” 

“Was he?” Jayce asks, his expression darkening. 

“I am sure he has heard the news.” Viktor brushes Jayce’s hair back from his face gently. He rolls his eyes to himself and sighs mournfully. “I suppose this means I will have to continue being fitted for an ensemble for the ball.” 

Jayce stands up and without answering plucks Viktor right out of his chair and hauls him over his shoulder in one swift movement. His hand grabs securely at his backside. 

Viktor yelps. “Jayce!” he hisses, pounding lightly at his back before grabbing on for dear life when he turns away from the table and stalks across the room.  

Before he knows it he’s thrown back lightly into the down, the featherbed puffing up around his form, a few stray feathers flying up and catching in the veil of their bed. 

Viktor props himself up on his elbows, watching as Jayce silently undoes his belt and the metal brace at his leg, tugging off his trousers and boots in one swift pull. It makes Viktor yelp again, but he can’t stop the smile from overtaking his face, the needy sigh that escapes his lips. 

“ Jayce ,” Viktor says, cheeks hot and the core of him throbbing as he watches his Sovran’s eyes turn hooded and darken. He licks up the inside of his bruised thigh. “This is hardly required of you anymore.”  

Jayce answers him by pulling off his smallclothes, his bemused need already hard and throbbing against his taut belly. It occurs to Viktor then that will change soon, and the thought makes his heart swell with something foreign. 

“But I still want you, Consort,” Jayce growls against his skin. He licks one long stroke up the length of him before climbing over top of his body. He tears at the clasps of his tunic and grips a leather strap of Viktor’s back brace, biting bruising kisses along his pulsepoint. “You won’t deny me the pleasure of having you. Will you?” 

Viktor’s head falls back, back arching and the ends of his hair sweeping across the duvet. He shakes as Jayce wraps his palm tightly around his cock. “ No ,” he breathes, voice quivering, muscles constricting. 

“Good, Vik.” Jayce whispers roughly, hazel eyes turned black with desire. He nuzzles along Viktor’s nose, slides his tongue across his bottom lip. He slides his arm between his back and the sheets, pawing ravenously at his backside. 

He praises him. “You’re so good for me. Now turn over, love. And let me ruin you.” 

Viktor moans, long and needy, letting himself succumb to his Sovran’s hunger.

Ruin me. Ruin me. Ruin me.

Chapter Text

The ball comes together quickly, leaving the entire Estate in a flurry of constant motion over the next month. 

Cleaning, planning, ordering. Viktor finds he is left in charge of most of the decisions. The silverware and the color of napkins, candles and flowers. Besides the flowers, which he finds quite interesting, he finds it all rather confusing and shockingly frivolous. In his past life in Zaun, an orphaned mage scientist and inventor, he had no experience with such matters, let alone patience.

Yet. He does feel obligated to prove to himself, and Jayce, that he can do it. He’s never been anything if not stubbornly pragmatic, no matter the task at hand.

Jayce is busy, as always, and most days Viktor only catches a glimpse of him in the hall or rushing down the stairs. But the way he smiles and takes hold of him by his hips, ducks his head, and asks how he’s feeling makes Viktor’s heart flutter fervently in his chest. It’s a new feeling, warm and bright, and leaving him thinking of Jayce all the hours they are apart. 

Viktor tells his Sovran he is well, but the truth is, most days in the recent weeks, he has been left in a nauseating state of exhaustion and morning sickness. He spends more time than he’d care to admit on his knees retching into the toilet or laying forlornly in bed hugging his pillow. 

He tries to be productive, bringing his notebooks into their bedroom, and yet most of the time Viktor wakes up hours later with drool on his pillow and ink staining his fingers. 

Food smells awful, except for the citrus fruit they keep in the breakfast room. For some reason he can’t get enough of them. Viktor wakes up so ravenous in the morning it’s painful, only to feel sick hours later. Jayce has this tea sent up everyday, one he swears up and down will support a healthy pregnancy. A Talis family recipe passed down for generations. It’s about as appetizing as the sewer water deep in the fissures, but Viktor chokes it down anyways. He figures he can use any help he can get. 

Silco and Vander send him a letter when they hear the news with notes from Jinx, Vi, and Ekko folded inside. Viktor cries when he reads them, cheeks heating and cursing himself at the uncouth display of emotion. 

But Jayce presses his thumb soothingly into the soft spot of his shoulder, pushes him into their mattress in the candlelight and fucks him slow, makes love to him as his calloused fingers brush damp hair out of Viktor's face and pleasuring him until he forgets everything but the way his body ignites. He comes like the soft swell of the ocean’s wave caressing the shore, with Jayce’s face buried in his neck and his orgasm pulsing in rhythm with the firelight flickering on the ceiling. Jayce soon follows. A broken shout is muffled into Viktor’s skin and his fingers bruise his hip as Jayce's whole body convulses through it like a man starved. 

Finally, it arrives. 

Gentle classical music floats through the ballroom and Viktor finds himself fidgeting with the fabric of his doublet behind a curtain, waiting to be announced. He peeks out into the crowd, all of them sparkling and radiant in the soft glow of the chandeliers. 

He tries spotting Silco or Vander, but they are lost to the sea of people. 

Viktor frowns, sucking in a deep breath. He peers down at himself, at the wine and gold-plated doublet he wears. It’s Silco’s colors, an interesting mix of feminine and masculine; stiff shoulders yet sleeveless, dark pants beneath a corseted vest, but bits of gauzy fabric hanging just below his knees giving the impression of a skirt, the back is cut out and the v of his neck is low to show off the specially made brace. Jayce redesigned it to accommodate his soon to be growing belly, and it’s made of the highest quality gold and metal and leather. 

Viktor’s eyes are lined with kohl and his cheeks are dusted with glitter that matches the ballroom’s decor. His hair is clean and swept back from his face slightly, the front tendrils wrapped around a gilded circlet. He wears a necklace with his parents sigil, and rings and gold bracelets to match his braces and new cane. 

Jayce had really gone a little overboard, he thinks wistfully. It is more fanciful than his wedding day, but this is the first time the Sovran will be seeing him in any of this regalia, and that makes butterflies flutter anxiously in Viktor’s belly. 

He finds he wants to look good for him. It’s a strange feeling. Viktor has never taken much stock in appearances. Besides, most people looked at him with unwanted pity, morbid curiosity, or plain old disgust. Sure, there were a few in the Undercity that thought him attractive or even fetishized him, but all in all Viktor had learned he was something not worth looking at. Let alone being dressed up and paraded around for all of these Pilties to see. 

The butterflies turn to nausea and sweat pricks at his brow, but Viktor retrieves an herbal lozenge from the little case he keeps in his pocket, and sucks in a deep breath. 

Then, a touch along his back, fingers lightly tracing the seam of his blouse and along his brace, his skin. 

Viktor’s heart stutters and he instantly turns around. Jayce is there clad in black and warm leather, and before he can say anything he scoops him up in his arms, hands grabbing at his ass and pressing him into the wall, his cane clattering to the floor. 

He slides his tongue in his mouth and rolls his hips into him. Viktor can feel his hot need, half hard on the inside of his thigh. Viktor sighs out, clutching him closer and licking along Jayce’s pulsepoint. He bites down needily, dragging his teeth roughly along his skin and then Jayce pulls away with a rough chuckle. 

“You can’t do that now,” he rasps with a grin, nuzzling his nose along Viktor’s. 

Viktor hums low in his throat. “You started it,” he says, accent thick with desire. His body has started to change in the past two weeks. Everything feels fuller and swollen and his netherregions have not been spared from the increased bloodflow. He bucks his hips into Jayce, looking for relief. The throbbing is quite unbearable. Thank Kindred his tunic hides him.

“You're gorgeous,” Jayce growls. 

Viktor blushes, humming noncommittally. “I don’t know.” 

Jayce presses him into the wall harder, staring up at him, mouth pressed into a hard line. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Vik. Don’t let anyone here, in my Court, in the Undercity, in the damned Heavens ever tell you otherwise.”

He nods, throat closing with emotion and tears welling in his eyes. 

“Yeah, alright,” he says, swallowing it away. He nuzzles his forehead against Jayce’s. “You’re perfect,” he says. “So handsome in your fine suit.” 

It’s Jayce’s turn for his cheeks to redden. He gently drops Viktor to his feet, scratching the back of his neck as he picks up his cane. He laughs nervously. “The tailor seemed to think it was right.” 

“It’s perfect,” Viktor says again. 

Jayce grins. 

“Are you ready?” 

Viktor beams back. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Jayce holds out his arm and bows. 

“Then come, my Consort. Shall we make the announcement? He whispers in Viktor’s ear. “Remember to relax your face.” 

Viktor takes his Sovran’s arm then straightens his back and raises his chin, holding his breath and schooling his face into something he hopes is regal as Jayce pushes the thick velvet curtain aside. 

The room hushes into whispers and awes. 

The head butler clears his throat. 

“Ladies and Gentleman of the Court, may I announce, His Royal Highness, Our Sovran of Piltover and his Consort.”

Viktor’s grip on Jayce’s arm tightens and Jayce brings his hand over his, rubbing the soft spot on the back of his hand in soothing strokes. They ascend the stage together, taking their seats at the dais decorated in burgundy silks and gold. Side by side.