Chapter Text
Jayce could sense Caitlyn’s glare as he packed.
They’d spent three days in the City of Zaun—far longer than intended. After the whole dinner fiasco, Jayce had spent the last couple nights hammering out the details with Count Silco. A contract was drafted and signed. It was officially done. They could finally leave this place.
But the relief he was hoping to feel was gutted by the reality of what awaited him back in Piltover. The Council. Mel. Oh god, Mel.
Caitlyn was of the opinion that he deserved to feel like shit. She fumed in silence during the dinner negotiation, a vein becoming more pronounced on her smooth porcelain forehead. To her credit, it wasn’t until they were in the privacy of their guest quarters that she blew up at him. Her listless jumping from one frustration to another made it difficult for Jayce to interject and defend himself. As soon as she’d hurled one point at him, she would follow it up with: “And another thing—” and on and on it went until Jayce was sitting at the foot of the bed with his head in his hands. Vi had attempted several times to calm her mate down. All failed. Eventually Vi threw up her hands and leant against the wall, occasionally cringing at the harsh vitriol spewing from Caitlyn’s mouth.
By the time Caitlyn had tired herself out, Jayce no longer had any energy left to engage. Instead of apologising, which was what he had initially wanted to do, he shrugged, said something to the effect of “what’s done is done”, and made it clear that there was nothing she could do or say to change that.
Caitlyn gave him the silent treatment for the rest of their stay in Zaun.
Vi tried getting through to her, but things were still too fresh. Caitlyn was Mel’s closest friend and confident. This new development threw a wrench into their plans and hopes for the future of their pack. It might even cause strain to their friendship.
There was also Caitlyn’s mother to consider. Cassandra Kiramman was another member of the Piltover Council and matriarch to one of the most respected houses in the entire region. Reputation meant a great deal to her. Their relationship had only just recovered after Caitlyn chose Vi over the person her mother had picked out for her. News that another member of her pack would not only be a Zaunite, but a Vampyre as well, could irritate old wounds they had attempted to bury.
While Jayce was sorry for the consequences that would spawn from this deal, he wasn’t sorry for agreeing to it.
He finished packing and swung his pack over his shoulder, turning to face his packmates. “Ready?”
Caitlyn’s glare lingered on him for a second longer before she marched straight out of their guest quarters. Vi clapped him on the shoulder, her smile sympathetic.
“Ready to face the music?”
Jayce sighed. “I feel like I’m being punished for something I had no choice in.”
“Your negotiation skills need some work.”
“But we got what we came here for. Isn’t that enough?”
“With a few concessions.”
“Vi…”
“Ok, many concessions.”
“You’re not helping.”
Vi squeezed his shoulder and gave him a playful shove forward. “Come on. Let’s go get your undead fiancée and then get the hell outta here.”
They stumbled upon Viktor having a private farewell with Jinx in an alcove outside the stables. Jinx was cupping his face, whispering to him. Jayce caught a glimpse of despair on her small, porcelain face before it suddenly shifted at their interruption. She immediately stepped away from Viktor, as though burned by the intimate closeness, her hands falling to her hips seemingly by habitual default. Viktor’s back was facing them. He did not turn in greeting, instead brushing past Jinx and disappearing into the adjourning stables.
Jinx and Vi sized each other up.
Jayce thought back to a conversation he and Vi had had over too many pints of beer. Caitlyn and Cassandra’s relationship had all but fallen apart, by extension putting strain on Caitlyn’s relationship with Vi, who was convinced she would never get the Kiramman’s blessing to marry their cherish and beloved heir. Somehow, commiserating over falling in love with a high-society woman spiralled into a trip down Vi’s mysterious past. It was then that Vi revealed secrets about herself he hadn’t known about her. One such secret was that she had a sister.
“You Pilties treat him right, ya hear? Or I’ll come over there and blow you all to pieces,” Jinx said, not a drop of humour in her tone.
The corner of Vi’s mouth twitched. “We will. But I can’t speak for all the stiffs in Piltover.”
Jinx snickered. “You are one of those stiffs in Piltover, sis.”
“Whatever.”
Vi left—or fled—to the stables. Jayce moved to follow her, but froze, pinned down by the look Jinx was directing straight at him.
“You especially.”
“I’m sorry?”
In the bat of an eye, she was in his personal space, warning clouding her unblinking, magenta gaze. “Take care of Vik. Hurt him and I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
Jayce relaxed. He smiled, despite her threat. “I guess I have no other choice then, do I?”
She blinked in shock. He bid her a brief but not unkind farewell, then joined the others in the stables.
The afternoon hung low in the sky. Spring chill clung in the air; a faint mist lingered close to the cobblestone. Caitlyn was already seated on her horse, reigns at the ready. Vi joined her, swinging a leg around and gripping her mate’s waist from behind. Tension softened ever so slightly in Caitlyn’s face at the caress of Vi’s nose against her jawline.
Viktor stood by Jayce’s horse, smoothing an elegant hand across its ebony coat. The stable hands must’ve already prepared the saddle in preparation for their departure. The Vampyre blood that could be spared on such short notice was strapped to the saddle, but Viktor brought with him nothing but the clothes on his back and his cane. Silco mentioned something about sending over Viktor’s effects in the coming days.
Jayce wet his lips, nervous for a reason he couldn’t explain. “His name is Hector—Hex for short.”
“He’s beautiful.” Viktor did not turn to look at him, but there was nothing in his face or body language to suggest malice.
“He’s a Noxian thoroughbred. He was gifted to me by my—uh—friend.”
Viktor made a noise in polite interest.
Jayce noted that he was dressed for riding, but wasn’t as covered up as he had expected for a Vampyre before nightfall. He was going to ask whether he would be fine with the sun exposure, then thought better of it. Vampyres were more conscious of the sun’s presence than any other creature. If Viktor was unconcerned by it, then who was he to question him?
Hoisting himself into the saddle, Jayce offered his hand to Viktor. The Vampyre looked at the hand, then at his cane, sceptical. He gave his hand regardless, and Jayce pulled him up onto the saddle with ease. To his surprise, Viktor’s hand was warm, and as he manoeuvred in the saddle to straddle him from behind, he felt his body heat seeping through their contact.
Caitlyn nodded at Jayce before urging her horse with a short, sharp flex to her middle. His packmates lurched into a gallop and Jayce was in close pursuit.
The sun was setting when they reached the precipice of the city. Its golden light cast a shadow across the surrounding lands, and they intended to cover as much ground as possible before it became too risky to travel at such speeds. The distance between the territories was insubstantial. It was why tension was constantly brewing between them, as often their people were forced to share the same trade routes and resources to get by. Piltover and Zaun were a single territory—once, before the Vampyres appeared. Things hadn’t been the same since.
Leaving in the early morning and travelling at top speeds could have them reaching the City of Piltover by nightfall, but Jayce wanted to minimise Viktor’s sun exposure. By making use of the evening light, they would travel as fast as they could, and then pace themselves until the moon was high. She would be full tonight. He could feel her thrumming in his neck, a dull ache threatening to spread throughout his body. They would have no hope of getting far once she was at her most lethal.
Travel was made in silence. Jayce and Caitlyn’s determination brought them to the outskirts of Zaun territory before they finally left the beaten track to set up camp.
Vi was efficient with making a fire and roasting dinner. It was a fleshy, slug-like creature sliced into pieces and served on a skewer with cherry tomatoes and cloves of garlic. She’d explored the markets in Zaun and bought samples of the cuisine she’d missed the most. Caitlyn sniffed distastefully at her skewer. Jayce thought it wasn’t so bad. The texture was a little off, but it had a nice crunch and sweet interior.
Viktor sat before the fire, gazing deeply into its embers, light playing across the sharp lines of his face. He was holding himself. If Jayce didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Viktor was trying to warm himself.
He threw his cleaned skewer into the fire and said, “You aren’t a Vampyre, are you? At least—you aren’t a full Vampyre.”
For the first time since their departure, Viktor looked him in the eye. He quirked an eyebrow. “This never came up in conversation between you and my father?”
“It didn’t.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
Jayce shook his head, reaching into his rucksack and pulling out a vial of Lunabye. Its blue-like substance glowed dully in the moonlight. “One of my friends is a half-blood. Though she’s half Lycan, half mage. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“The ‘half-blooded twins’,” Vi interjected with food in her mouth. “That’s what they were calling you and Jinx down at the markets.”
Viktor nodded. “A misleading attribution; Jinx and I were born nine years apart. We are human-born, and our fathers were Vampyres. But you must have already known that.”
Jayce’s shoulders fell. “I didn’t.”
Vi hugged her knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s just—when it comes to Pow—dammit, Jinx—things are complicated, alright?”
He aligned the needle with his inner thigh and stabbed through fabric and flesh. Lunabye rushed into his veins, quelling the beast that stirred within like soothing balm over an angry burn. It staved off the transition, but left him drained and weak. Slipping the vial and needle back in his rucksack, he fished around in the main pocket before procuring a blanket, which he offered to Viktor.
Viktor was confused. “What about you?”
Jayce shrugged. “Us Lycan run pretty hot. I’ll be fine.”
With some hesitation, Viktor accepted the blanket and pulled it taut around his thin frame. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.”
Using his rucksack as a pillow, he laid down, crossing his arms as he stared at the fire.
“You have questions,” Viktor stated. He was observant, then.
“Truthfully, I don’t know much about half-breeds.”
Procreation was a dicey topic in Zaun and Piltover, as the three species that inhabited the territories had differing methods of reproduction. Vampyres recruited people outside their species and turned them with the venom that oozed from their fangs; Lycans could turn others with a bite, but could also breed with their own kind; and humans procreated exclusively through birth. As far as science was concerned, Vampyres and Lycan could not turn each other, nor could they procreate. The egg and sperm were simply incompatible. However, a human woman could conceive with a male Vampyre or Lycan, but mortality rates were so extreme that it was illegal in both territories. If a Vampyre or Lycan impregnated a human, it was punishable by death. Mel was also a half-blood, but he didn’t know enough about her heritage to understand its implications.
“The fact that you exist is in itself a miracle,” Jayce said.
Viktor snorted. “I never thought of it that way.”
“You want to know the chances of a half-blood being carried to term and surviving the birth? Three-point-five-million to one. You beat the odds. I’d say that’s pretty miraculous.”
“See? You do know some things about half-bloods.” A ghost of a smile touched Viktor’s face, and Jayce wondered if a full smile would be twice as breathtaking.
“Then tell me something I might not know.” He felt his eyes beginning to droop, the Lunabye’s effects seeping into muscle and bone, dragging him away from consciousness.
“The lifespan of a half-blood Vampyre is similar to that of a Lycan. Around three-hundred years—give or take fifty. We grow at a delayed rate, reaching emotional and physical maturity at fifty, and cease to physically age past that point. Our cells freeze… It has something to do with our Vampyre DNA activating on a molecular level. At least, that is the most popular theory pushed by scholars these days.”
Viktor had such a nice voice, gently accented and soothingly intellectual. He could get used to the sound of it. Be lulled by it. “How old are you, Viktor?”
A chuckle. “I’m seventy-four.”
“We’re close… I’m seventy-six.”
“Cradle snatcher.”
Jayce exhaled through his nose in amusement. He was on the precipice of sleep now; he could feel it. “What do the scholars theorise about half-blood body temperatures?”
“Blood circulation is a pervasive issue, though admittedly mine is much worse than Jinx’s. I read a paper once that drew several conclusions…”
Jayce was whisked away by Cassandra Kiramann’s assistant the moment he stepped into the Towers.
It was nearing noon. They’d skipped breakfast and rode hard through Piltover until the city, with its layered, dome-roofed pillar buildings and idly floating air ships, was within their sights. Viktor pulled his hood up as populations grew denser and word spread of their arrival. Children giggled and skipped after their horses. Well-dressed cityfolk going about their daily business greeted them in the streets. They caught Vi’s favourite baker as he was writing this week’s special in chalk on the sign outside and he offered them a box of cupcakes free of charge. A group of musicians performing to a small crowd serenaded Caitlyn as they passed, praising her beauty. A pair of blushing women walking arm in arm eyed Jayce and whispered to one another behind lace fans.
There were no depths to the love he had for Piltover. Any other day he would have basked in its radiance and joy, taking the time to converse with its people and engage with the community. Today, however, with the Lunabye still aching in his muscles and a headache a dull threat behind his left eye, he wanted to go straight to his apartments and rest. Viktor must’ve felt the same. He felt him bury his face against his back soon after entering the city.
Deep down, Jayce understood that retreating to his bed was a luxury he could no longer afford as a member of the Council.
He clutched Vi’s elbow before he left them. “Take Viktor to my apartments. Don’t let anyone enter until I have things sorted out with the Council.”
Viktor’s eyes were absorbing his surroundings with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Jayce smiled apologetically. “I know it’s wrong of me to leave you after only just arriving. Feel free to explore my apartments in my absence—make yourself at home. I promise I’ll give you an official tour of the Towers and Piltover once I’ve handled the Council.”
The bemusement didn’t fall from Viktor’s expression as his gaze flickered to Jayce, as though he were trying to decipher something in the pores of his face. “Go. You need not worry about me.”
Jayce nodded. Once Vi and Viktor were out of earshot, he turned to Caitlyn, who stood in frigid anticipation. He lowered his voice so the assistant couldn’t eavesdrop, though he was acutely aware of the impatient stare she was drilling into the back of his head. “Caitlyn, I know you’re still angry about the deal I made with Count Silco. You’re allowed to feel how you feel—I won’t try to dissuade you from that. But as my packmate I need your support now more than ever. I can’t be showing weakness. Not this early into my appointment.”
Conflicted warred in Caitlyn’s gaze, the tendon in her jawline twitching. She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Alright, fine. Let’s get a move on. Being late to the council meeting won’t put you in anyone’s good books.”
His shoulders fell, as though relieved of a great weight. Caitlyn was as good as a sister to him. They’d met as teenagers at the academy and had been inseparable ever since. Like real siblings, arguments weren’t difficult to come by. They made fun of each other’s mannerisms and eccentricities and argued constantly over morality and politics. When they were in a real fight, however, Jayce never felt sicker to his stomach. Caitlyn was his rock. She had his back through thick and thin. Without it was like being unmoored, sent adrift without anything to grasp on to.
He turned to face the lions, Caitlyn in tow, following the assistant as she hastily led them to the elegantly styled elevator that would take them to the council chamber.
The Council were livid.
Jayce had expected as much, but it was challenging to endure all the same. Throughout his explanation and the presentation of the signed contract, he pointedly avoided Mel’s searching gaze from where she sat to his immediately right.
Of all the advantages afforded to Count Silco and Zaun that were outlined, the one he was afraid to explain most of all was his engagement to the Count’s only son. It shouldn’t have been this way. Ideally, he would have had the time to see Mel in private to explain the unfolding situation. Instead, she was made to sit in silence as she learned that all her careful planning had been for naught, and that her marriage to Jayce would never come to fruition. To her credit, she did not immediately cuss him out. She did not verbally express her anger at all. Rather, her brow pinched, lips down-turned, and her heartbreakingly beautiful green eyes swam with betrayal.
It was a look that had his stomach sinking into his bowls.
The Council grilled him for hours, going over every minutia of the contract and what they had to sacrifice for what was arguably a less significant reward. Jayce held his own. He harnessed the grief and sympathy he felt for the Piltovians struck by the plague and used it to argue his logic and reasoning.
Salo and Torman, predictably, were more concerned with the open trade routes Zaun now had access to and how that would impact their businesses. Cassandra worried about the influx of human Zaunites migrating to their territory and the overpopulation issues that will cause. Irius and Heimerdinger speculated over the implications of a Zaunite consultant being added to the Council and whether this was Zaun’s way of interfering in Piltovian politics. Jayce’s marriage to a Zaunite was avoided, either because the Council members found the other terms of the contract more pressing or because it was a personal matter to be discussed in private.
Mel was silent the entire three-hour meeting.
Callous as it was, Jayce ignored her presence, consolidating his efforts into passionately advocating for the terms of the contract and why these terms would be more of a benefit than a detriment to their territory’s interests. Caitlyn, thankfully, pulled through on her promise to support him and interjected in his defence wherever she could.
The Council were reluctantly placated—for now, at least. Their tolerance of the agreement would hinge upon its future consequences.
Once adjourned, each Council member left. All except Mel, who remained seated, her elbows propped on the table and her fingers laced, her expression unreadable. Caitlyn was the last to leave with an awkwardly cobbled together excuse.
The moment the door closed behind Caitlyn an apology was flying out of Jayce’s mouth. “Mel, I—”
“I thought we had an understanding.”
“I know. I’m so—”
“Do you have any idea what this means? Once my mother gets word of this—and mark my words she will get word of this no matter how hard we try to suppress it—her ships will be on our shores come dawn.” She rose from her seat, circling the table to stand before Jayce. Powerful. Angry. “Our arrangement was the only thing tying me to Piltover. Tying me to its people. If I’m not married soon—”
“Your mother will call you back to Noxus. I know.” Jayce leant against the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t a decision I came to lightly. It completely ruins our plans and I’m so sorry for that. But I wasn’t given much of a choice. Count Silco was adamant that I marry one of his children or any hopes of an agreement would be dead in the water. I did what I thought was best for Piltover. We all had to make sacrifices here.”
She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, that makes me feel loads better.”
Noxian customs differed from those in Piltover. Mel was a Lycan, but what that meant here meant something very different overseas. Packs were exclusively blood-bound in Noxus, not a mix like it was in Piltover. The leader of the pack, a patriarch or matriarch, had final word on every decision concerning its packmates. A child born into a pack was forever bound to its whims unless they married into another.
Piltover’s familial system was liberal. A child born into a pack was bound to it until they turned forty-five—the legal age of an adult Lycan in Piltover. They then had the option to stay, or form a pack with other like-minded individuals—friends, mentors, cousins, lovers. This was what he and Caitlyn did when they came of age. They agreed Jayce would be leader, but Caitlyn and any future packmates would have the autonomy to do as they pleased so long as it didn’t get them into trouble.
Mel came into the picture later, back when Jayce was still developing Lunabye. Before then, Jayce only knew her as Councilwoman Medarda and friend of Caitlyn. Mel saw Lunabye’s potential, saw Jayce’s potential, and invested in him. They were intimate once or twice. It was so easy to submit to her charm, the confidence with which she held herself and the gravitation of her unmatched beauty. He grew to care for her.
But it was not love.
Things shifted after Mel thrust him into a Council member position. Her moves became bolder, more desperate. She revealed to Jayce in confidence that her mother was threatening to withdraw her from Piltover after her brother’s assassination. She would lose the only sense of power and control she felt she had in her life, and would return to her mother’s side as a mere chess piece in her game of politics. And so they hatched a plan: Mel would marry into Jayce’s pack and remain exactly where she wished to be on the Piltover Council. The socio-political power of their marriage was also a benefit—one Mel coveted more than Jayce did. He was willing to go through with all of it. If it meant Mel would stay, if it meant she would be happy, he would have done it.
That was—until Viktor.
“You know you’ve played right into Silco’s hands,” she said. “He saw that you were desperate and knew you’d agree to just about anything to get what you needed from them.”
Tightness pulled at his chest. “And what of your desperation? You were going to use me to hold on to power. You would marry someone—bound yourself to someone for the rest of your life—just so you wouldn’t have to face your mother again. You don’t even love me, Mel! You never saw me as anything but a means to an end.”
“That’s not true! I care for you.”
Jayce stepped closer, gazing into Mel’s eyes. His voice fell to a whisper. “It’s not enough to care, Mel. A Lycan marriage—a cosmic shift in our very existences—it would have been the end of our relationship. And I think deep down, you knew that.”
“I—”
“Are you really one to be tied down? Tethered to a man you care for but don’t love?”
A flicker of sadness passed over her face, before it hardened. “Don’t think you can talk your way out of this. You made a decision on my behalf without consulting me and now I’m the one who has to face the consequences. I hope, for your sake, that it was worth your selfishness.”
She left, her perfume lingering in the spot where she’d stood before him.
He’d intended to return to his apartments. His legs carried him elsewhere, out of the ivory Towers and halfway across the city.
The Talis insignia was plated proudly in gold on the front door, with a ring connecting the ‘T’ as a smartly designed doorknock—his father’s creation. He didn’t wait long before his mother answered. She took one look at him and immediately pulled him into an embrace, her hand soothing across his back. He was an ass. Every time he came to visit her, he was reminded of how long it’d been since he’d last seen her. There was a lot of rotten things he had done recently, but neglecting his mother might be the worst.
“When will I get to meet Viktor?”
Opening an overhead cabinet in the kitchen, she plucked ingredients to make his favourite tea—maté. The kettle was left to heat over an open flame. Jayce sat on a stool, the weight of his head resting on his fist.
He had explained everything. The overcrowding at the hospitals, his unsanctioned trip to Zaun, his deal with Silco, the Council, and of course—Mel.
But Viktor was the only thing she had fixated on, above all else. “Maybe… when things have calmed down a bit.”
“Is he nice to you?”
“Mum.”
“Is he attractive?”
“What does that—Mum.”
“What? I’m asking the important questions here.” She placed his mug of tea in front of him, served with a metal straw. “I’m sorry to hear about Mel, honey. It must’ve been really hard to hurt someone you care so much about. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. Your whole plan to marry her—honestly, I could tell your heart wasn’t really in it.”
“No. Instead of marrying a friend, I’ll be marrying a stranger—and a Zaunite at that. Aren’t you… mad? Aren’t you going to try and dissuade me? If I go through with this, I’ll forever be tied to the enemy.”
She placed a hand over his own, a smile touching her lips. “How could I be mad at you? You have always done what you thought was right. I know it’s hard not to see this situation for all its negatives, but there is good that will come from this as well. Think of all the people you will be helping, and all the people you will save once you’ve developed vaccines.”
“But Dad…”
Her face fell. She cupped her mug. “Your father might not have approved, but there is no winning in war, Jayce. Both sides have suffered tremendous loss. Maybe this union will finally be a step in the right direction for Piltover and Zaun.”
After tea, she encouraged him to see Dad.
The alter was to the back of the house, situated in a small alcove. He settled on his knees before it. A black-and-white photograph of his father was propped up in a frame, grinning at the camera in Talis uniform, a hammer in hand and a sweat rag over his shoulder. Jayce lit a black candle and began talking to him, as he often did when he visited. He’d died during the Battle of the Bridge when Jayce was just a kid. It was the last openly violent conflict between Zaun and Piltover, and was second only to the Blood-Feud Wars in terms of casualty rates.
His father had hated Zaunites for what they did to their family—Vampyres especially.
It was a cycle. His great-grandfather was killed in a conflict with Zaun, and so his grandfather held a grudge and involved himself in the next conflict with Zaun, leading to his death and his grudge passing to his father, who died never getting to see his own son become a man.
When did it end? When was enough enough?
He didn’t like Zaunites, but he never carried the hatred his father had for them. Blood was on Piltover’s hands too. His mother was right. This was an opportunity to build bridges instead of destroy them. But to make real change, he had to take charge of the consequences of this decision. Own them. Execute them.
He stood, gazing at his father’s photograph with renewed determination. “Dad, I’m going to marry the Count’s son. I know you wouldn’t approve, but the cycle has to end. It will end—I’ll make sure of it.”