Chapter Text
Of all the batshit crazy things that had happened to Jayce, he had never assumed going to prison would be one of them. Worst of all, it wasn’t even truly his fault.
Some dumbass had broken into his university lab in the dead of night last week. Their motive was anyone’s guess, but caution had clearly been the last thing on their mind. They had messed with his current prototype— the research project he had slowly been working on behind the scenes for years now— only for it to quite literally blow up in their face.
Before Jayce had time to even digest the news or feel the overwhelming guilt of having accidentally taken a life, he was charged with involuntary manslaughter and sued by the university for working on unsanctioned research of a “volatile nature.” They hadn’t cared that he had always been extremely careful with it, that the issue wasn’t the prototype itself but the way it had been handled. They hadn’t cared that they were effectively destroying any hope he had of finally solidifying the connection between science and the arcane, opening up a conduit that had the possibility to help millions of people.
None of it had mattered. He was shipped off to Piltover’s state-of-the-art penitentiary— Stillwater Prison. A minimum stay of six months before they would consider a lengthy probation and a possible reconsidering of his trial’s verdict.
Now he was sitting in a cold jail cell, sporting the traditional prison attire that was colored a true abomination of the color orange. The resident authorities had seen fit to deposit him there in the middle of the night, so it was likely that no one else even knew he was there.
Well— almost no one. He had been steered through several dark corridors flanked with cells on either side. The jingle of his guard’s keys was apparently the most noise allowed past curfew without strict consequences. That hadn’t stopped one solitary pair of eyes from tracking his motion all the way down the hall. It was much too dark to discern anything else about the identity of his silent watcher, but the intense stare had been more than enough to make the hairs of Jayce’s arms stand on end.
He knew he probably looked like an absolute train wreck with the dark smudges under his eyes and stubble that was quickly morphing into a beard. Maybe that would work in his favor? If all went well, everyone would just ignore him. He was tall and hopefully intimidating enough to keep people from interacting with him too much. Hopefully.
The deafening clang of a bell coupled with the click of all the fluorescent lights turning on made Jayce both squint and wince from the sudden onslaught on his senses. He hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at the stone floor, letting his thoughts race each other in his head. Was it really morning already?
Apparently so, if the methodical approaching clanging noise was anything to go by. It sounded like one of the officers was banging a baton on everyone’s cell. What a lovely way to wake someone up.
Jayce shifted nervously. He was going to be eating breakfast with a bunch of grumpy, rudely-awaked criminals. His life was an absolute joke.
The guard didn’t even spare him more than a cursory glance when he knocked the baton against the bars of Jayce’s cell. He had probably been doing so for the last half hour or so— the prison had three floors and at least 1,500 occupants. There was no way the cafeteria was big enough to accommodate them all. Would they be eating in shifts?
The guard kept on walking. The Vastaya inmate across from Jayce’s cell flipped him off when he passed, then turned over and promptly tried to go back to sleep.
The speakers connected throughout the prison crackled to life.
“It is currently 6:00am, Friday the 17th. A correctional officer has verified the presence of everyone in your current sector. Cells will open under supervision for breakfast shortly, and attendance is mandatory if you would like to retain all of your bodily functions. New arrivals to Sector C include Rictus of Noxus, Margot of Zaun, and Jayce Talis. Make sure to give them the welcome they deserve.”
Jayce winced. He wasn’t going to be able to fly under the radar when they had just announced his presence to the entire fucking prison.
The doors to everyone’s cells creaked open with an ear-pierching shriek as the automatic mechanical system engaged. A whole legion of officers had appeared in the interim, stationed every five to ten cells.
In accordance with Jayce’s extraordinary luck, the closest guard was stationed directly outside of his cell. “You coming out, pretty boy? Might as well not make trouble on your first day.”
Somehow, Jayce had the feeling that this guard would very much like for him to “make trouble.” He stepped out hurriedly, joining the slow-moving crowd of inmates headed for the cafeteria.
The inmate immediately next to him was a slight woman with long blue braids. She didn’t look particularly threatening, but there was a sizable circle around her that meant most of the other people in line were giving her a wide berth. Was she not well-liked? Feared? He would have to be a quick study for every one of these unspoken dynamics.
The woman stared at him unabashedly as they walked forward before cracking a wide smile. “You’re one of the new guys, aren’t you? No Zaunite, that’s for sure. You look too unused to your own misery.”
Jayce blinked at the cheery delivery. “Uh, yep. That’s me.”
The woman snorted. “Figures they’d let a Piltie in Sector C. Fucking sadists.” She snickered to herself, poking the inmate in front of her in the back.
The man she had poked whipped around with a snarl, but he seemed to withdraw a little when he saw who it was. “Oh. Hey, Jinx.” He was wiry, with a shock of blond hair that made him look even paler.
“Who else?” the woman— Jinx— said in lieu of greeting. She jabbed a thumb in Jayce’s direction. “This is Jayce,” she whispered like she was sharing a big secret. “He’s a Piltie. Fucking obvious, I know, but it get’s better. He’s been stationed at the south end of Sector C, and not just temporarily.”
The blond man gave Jayce a quick once-over before shrugging. “‘Bout time they gave us a little entertainment in this place.”
Jinx giggled. “Right? Ever since Juno, they started separating the topsider inmates.”
Jayce ignored the growing pit on his stomach. Clearly, his placement in this sector specifically was unusual— and “sadistic” as Jinx had so demurely put it. Who the hell were the people in the cells next to his?
“What happened to Juno?” he dared to ask. Jinx raised her eyebrows like she hadn’t expected him to interrupt the conversation they were having about him right in front of him. “The last Piltie experiment. He lasted all of two weeks before he got shanked. In the stomach? Ass? I can’t remember. But he ruined shower privileges for all of us.”
The man Jinx was talking to rolled his eyes. “You mean, Finn ruined our shower privileges. He stabbed the little fucker in broad daylight.”
Jinx hummed. “Right. End of metal fork privileges, too.”
Jayce felt vaguely sick.
The sudden wave of sound that crashed over them signaled they had finally entered the cafeteria. Plenty of inmates were already seated, eating… oatmeal? Breakfast casserole? Mashed potatoes? It wasn’t immediately clear just what the substance was. True to Jinx’s word, there was no metal silverware in sight.
The inmates in front of Jayce reassembled themselves into a rough line. Jinx slipped in front of him easily, sending him back a place in line.
“Strike one,” she said with a smile. “If you let people cut in front of you, they’ll think you’re weak.”
Clearly, he was already failing this. But wouldn’t listening to her advice and putting up a fight now just be unnecessary?
Jinx seemed to read his thoughts. “Too late, sweetpea. I’d fucking deck you.”
Despite his obvious height advantage, Jayce had a feeling she was right. In no time, he was standing in the midst of the cafeteria, a plastic tray filled with some unidentifiable substance in hand.
Where the hell was he going to sit? The room was almost completely full, and the last thing he wanted to do was butt into some pre-existing group that wouldn’t appreciate an intruder. If Jinx’s gleeful reaction was anything to go by, he wasn’t going to be well-liked.
One table caught his attention. It had a single occupant, in fact— a slender man with a slim metal cane beside him. Wouldn’t that qualify as a weapon? Apparently not.
The man must have sensed Jayce’s eyes on him, because he suddenly looked up to fix Jayce’s face with his piercing gaze. Oh, fuck. It was the same pair of amber eyes that had tracked his midnight arrival.
The man didn’t break eye-contact, only narrowing his eyes slightly. Finally, he tilted his head and patted the spot across from him.
Jayce was being summoned. Listening was probably a stupid idea (another sign of “weakness?”) but what other option did he have? At least his presence wouldn’t be immediately rejected unlike some of the other tables.
He made his decision. He weaved between other inmates to place his tray down with a clack across from the man, sitting down swiftly.
Although the guy had invited him over, he didn’t immediately speak. Jayce allowed himself to study him as much as he himself was being studied. The man’s eyes weren’t the only striking thing about him. He also had two beauty marks, one on his cheekbone and the other just above his mouth. The expression on his face was completely unreadable.
Jayce couldn’t stand the contemplative silence any longer. “Uh, hi. I’m Jayce.”
“I know,” the man replied. “You arrived at 2:38 am last night. Fairly unusual for an arrival.”
Right. This wasn’t the first time those honey-colored eyes had been fixed on him. “You were watching me,” Jayce replied. Not an accusation necessarily, but they both knew it was true.
The man hummed. “I like unusual things,” he said simply. There was another small pause, before he seemed to add his name as an afterthought. “I am Viktor.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jayce said automatically, and then cringed.
Viktor laughed at the words. It was a surprisingly nice laugh— a little unhinged, but more intriguing than anything else. Unlike Jinx, it didn’t sound like he was laughing at his expense.
“It is nice for me, isn’t it?” Viktor replied. He had a pretty accent, one that Jayce hadn’t heard before but seemed to make the words curl in his mouth. “Why did you come sit next to me?” Viktor asked.
Jayce blinked. “I mean, you beckoned me over, didn’t you?”
Viktor nodded. “Yes. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Jayce hesitated. Did he admit that he knew he would be unwelcome elsewhere? Viktor seemed too observant not to notice that Jayce was obviously Piltovian.
He decided on the truth, or at least a version of it. “I was curious. You’re sitting by yourself, and I couldn’t tell if that was your decision or not.”
Viktor smiled. A real smile, maybe— one that revealed faintly pointed canines, the hint of a smooth tongue that darted out to wet his bottom lip.
“You are like me, then. Curiosity is a largely unwelcome virtue here, but knowledge is potential. I think we will get along quite well indeed, Jayce.”
It was only when Jayce had returned to his cell that he realized Viktor had not answered his question.
—
The outdoor recreation space was unexpectedly nice. They were only allowed to venture outside every three days, the government-sanctioned amount of exposure to sunlight. He had had every meal with Viktor since then. He was an unusual companion, but one that Jayce had come to enjoy nonetheless. Viktor was frighteningly intelligent, and unlike some of the others, he didn’t hold Jayce’s frequent questions against him.
He wouldn’t always answer them straightforwardly, but it seemed to please him anyway whenever Jayce would figure out the answers through his own observation. Strangely enough, he had been given more opportunity to observe than he had assumed— no one else had approached him or given him any trouble. Had Jinx been exaggerating?
Jayce was doing pushups on the side of the quad to pass the time, and he managed not to flinch at the last second when Viktor materialized behind him. He was in a corner, so how the hell had Viktor gotten back there without him noticing?
“Hello, Jayce,” Viktor said pleasantly. The soft way he said his name always sent an odd thrill down Jayce’s spine, although he couldn’t come up with any particular reason why.
“Hey, Viktor,” Jayce said easily. Although Viktor’s spontaneous appearances were always vaguely worrying, he was getting used to the other man’s habit of doing so. He stopped the push-ups to flop over on his back, facing Viktor.
Viktor was leaning on his cane, his face tilted up to scrutinize the sky. “It’ll storm tonight,” Viktor said thoughtfully. He looked down at Jayce, an odd expression on his face. “Nice weather right now, though.”
“Yeah,” Jayce agreed. Viktor had that glint in his eye, when his body was there but his mind was far away. Jayce knew better than to try and get the information out of him— Viktor was a locked box that could only be opened with his own permission, and he would tell Jayce what he was thinking if he felt like it.
“How’s the grass down there?” Viktor said after a second.
Jayce laughed at the out-of-pocket question. “Uh, a little itchy. It’s just nice to feel something alive.” It was hard to say if the question had been genuine or a subtle tease, but he answered truthfully anyway.
Viktor hummed thoughtfully. Before Jayce had time to process it, Viktor propped his cane against the bordering wall and sat down next to him, rearranging himself into a cross-legged position in a surprisingly smooth motion.
“You didn’t think I could do that, could you?” Viktor challenged lightly.
Jayce had a feeling there was a right and wrong answer to this question. Thankfully, Viktor saved him from answering.
He shrugged with a slight smile. “My leg is a bitch, but I am flexible.” The comment made Jayce blush for some unknown reason.
“I can see that,” he managed, as Viktor absentmindedly brushed a strand of his own dark hair behind his ear. His hair was longer than Jayce’s, a wavy mass of strands that dusted his shoulders. It had blond streaks at the end that must have been natural, since Jayce was fairly sure that the inmates were not afforded monthly hair dye.
“Your hair is pretty,” Jayce said without thinking. He cringed as soon as he heard his own words. Fuck, he had just made things weird— weirder than their strangely comfortable relationship was already. Viktor was unpredictable. What if that comment cost him their friendship?
Viktor blinked in surprise. He didn’t get up, although he did not meet Jayce’s anxious gaze for a moment either. “You have strange taste,” he said at last, his tone careful. Jayce could almost delude himself that a faint blush dusted his high cheekbones.
Jayce relaxed when it seemed Viktor wasn’t going to take offense. “Well, I’ve been hearing that all my life,” he said. It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. His unquenchable desire for knowledge, for progress, had led him to this prison, after all.
Viktor turned to face him. “I don’t believe I ever asked why you were sent here.” It was an indirect question— one that Jayce recognized as a gracious invitation to share or not share, depending on his willingness.
He had a feeling that talking about such a thing was highly private information, but he inexplicably knew that he could trust Viktor.
“Involuntary manslaughter and unsanctioned use of personal property.”
Viktor didn’t immediately comment, but the interest in his eyes was obvious.
“I was… researching. Something with the potential to be big, to change a lot of lives. The prototype was volatile, but I knew how to handle it. It wasn’t a problem; it wasn’t a hazard in my hands— but that didn’t matter. Someone broke into the university lab. They messed with it, and it blew up. It killed them, and my research was eventually found out… it’s all gone now. It ended with them.”
A look of sadness overtook Viktor’s face. “That is a shame, indeed. What were you researching?”
Jayce knew he was going to sound crazy. “The integration of the arcane and science. Ways to induce magic purely through matrices and math.”
Jayce braced for the inevitable laugh of derision or skeptical eyebrow raise, but it didn’t come. When he dared a glance at Viktor, his gaze was intense. More than that, it was rapt— hungry. Eager for any information he would give.
“That sounds extraordinary,” Viktor breathed.
Jayce’s face split into a grin. “Yeah. It was.”
The rest of their recreation time passed in a blur. Jayce knew he talked too much. People always regretted asking him things, realizing that he would let loose a near endless stream of information to answer any conceivable question they might have.
But not Viktor. No, he practically drank in every word Jayce gave him, and when he had to stop and take a breath, he would encourage him forward or ask a clarifying question. It was exhilarating, to talk with someone who clearly cared just as much as he did.
Viktor had no trouble following any tangent that Jayce took, often leading Jayce on his own as he interjected with his own ideas or suggestions.
Jayce startled when the first drop of rain hit his back. They had been sitting in the same spot for the last three hours, trading their thoughts back and forth in the most fast-paced yet lengthy conversation about his work Jayce had ever had.
Viktor scowled up at the sky, but he reached for his cane anyway. “I believe that I got carried away.”
Jayce shook his head. “Are you kidding? That’s the longest anyone has ever let me talk about my work in a single sitting.”
Viktor shot him a genuine smile, although it morphed into a wince as he lifted himself out of his sitting position. “I can verify that,” he hummed with a sardonic tone of voice.
The other more active inmates had already begun to flee inside, not eager to spend a night in their cell sopping wet.
Recreation time was officially over. The inmates would be directed to their respective duties, whether that was washing pounds of sweaty jumpsuits or cleaning countless trays from lunch.
“What duty are you on?” Jayce asked as they walked back towards the prison.
“Laundry,” Viktor replied. “It makes my back hurt like hell but occasionally I find contraband.”
“I’m on dishes,” Jayce sighed. It would have been nice if they could continue their conversation, but there was always tomorrow. Dinner was delivered to their cells on dish-washing days to minimize dirtying the newly clean kitchen.
Viktor’s cell was on Sector C’s north end— it was how he had been able to watch Jayce’s journey all the way down to his cell at the south end after all. There would be no talking back-and-forth there.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, then,” Viktor said. “Thank you for sharing your research with me.” Jayce blushed despite himself.
“Of course. You’re one of the first people that wanted to know.”
“Kretény,” Viktor muttered under his breath.
Jayce smiled to himself. He liked when Viktor slipped into Zaunite, particularly when he was voicing his displeasure.
Dish duty would pass significantly faster when he had their conversation to examine in his mind.
He was hunched over a dish mere minutes later, feeling much less optimistic as he did his best to scrub old mystery food off the plate.
He still hadn’t figured out what they were being served for breakfast, but he knew it was absolute hell to try and remove from the dishes. Several other inmates seemed to be having similar struggles, although they were grouped together on the other side of the kitchen.
Two correctional officers were stationed outside, not bothering to help as usual. Jayce wasn’t even sure why they were really there— there was no danger of a fight when the other inmates avoided him day after day.
Of course, he didn’t mind. It was the very thing that he had hoped for when he had arrived! But it was strange, especially considering Jinx’s early delight at his arrival, or how the sour inmate she had talked to (Salo, Jayce had learned) had assumed that he would bring “entertainment.”
The toleration of his presence after endless warnings to the contrary was truly mysterious.
“Who the fuck are you looking at?” Jayce blinked, realizing he had been staring off into space at another one of the inmates.
Before he could reply, the Vastayan next to the offended inmate blanched. He yanked her closer, whispering something in her ear before he glanced at Jayce meaningfully. The inmate paled.
“Oh,” she said shortly. “Forget about it.” She turned back to her dish promptly, leaving Jayce standing in stunned silence as dirty dishwasher dripped from his hands back into the sink.
What the fuck was that about? He knew that he posed an intimidating figure, but surely not that intimidating. Besides, plenty of big inmates started fights all the time, and the inmate had obviously seen him when she got pissed off at his staring. Did he have some sort of bad reputation?
He didn’t have much time to ponder it before their slot for dish duty was over. The correctional officers filed in as they herded them back to their sector.
Jayce was still trying to piece together what had happened when the Vastayan from before fell in step beside him. He was the cellmate across from him, Jayce realized. Would he be willing to tell Jayce what all that had been about?
Before he had the chance to pose the question, the Vastayan spoke. “She didn’t realize. Just a misunderstanding.”
The comment was supposed to assure him, but it only made him more confused. “Realize what?” he asked.
The Vastayan looked at him out of the corner of his eye, clearly suspicious he was being tested. “Your relationship,” he said finally. “With the Herald. No need to start a fight.”
The Herald? Jayce had no idea who that was, much less a relationship with them. He didn’t have a relationship with anyone, besides— Viktor. Jayce suddenly remembered the circumstances of their initial meeting. Viktor sitting at a table all by himself, the only inmate with a table all to himself. The obvious mobility aid that Jayce had never seen anyone give him trouble for. The way even the correctional officers generally left him alone. He knew the way Viktor smiled, laughed, surveyed others with a glint in his eye, but he did not truly know him— or his past, at the very least.
“...Right,” Jayce said at last. Would it be too strange to probe for information? He was beginning to get an inkling of how Viktor was viewed by the other inmates, but he still didn’t know why.
He decided to be vague. “He introduced himself to me by a different name. Does he also go by the Herald?”
The Vastayan’s eyes widened. “He must really like you if he allows you to use his personal name. He’s gone by the Herald ever since he started his evolution.”
“His evolution?” Jayce parrotted faintly.
The Vastayan nodded. “Sure. Work-life balance and all that. It’s not like he would have used his real name, not when half of Piltover was scrambling to put him behind bars.”
He looked at Jayce sharply. “Of course, no one doubts him, me included. We all know Stillwater won’t stop him. Zaun stands with the Herald.”
Jayce’s mind was reeling as he tried to take in all the new information and reconcile it with his picture of Viktor. He didn’t have time to respond before he was deposited directly in front of his cell door, the guard waving him inside with a bored look on his face. Notably, he didn’t shove him inside like some of the other inmates.
Jayce ambled over to his bed in a daze, barely internalizing that he had sat down. Viktor was clearly infamous— respected just as much as he was feared, and known on both levels of the city. But for what? Just who had Jayce befriended?
—
Viktor was missing at breakfast.
Jayce ate his morning mush in silence, now the only occupant at his and Viktor’s table. Every interaction was shining in a new light. Despite Viktor’s absence, no one came up to him or offered any further information that he was apparently thought to already be aware of.
If Jayce’s ‘relationship’ with Viktor was strong enough that others left him alone, how did they all know things about him that Jayce didn’t? Did they know where Viktor was right now?
Even worse, was he purposefully being kept in the dark?
Recreation time was directly after breakfast that day, and Jayce walked over to his and Viktor’s normal corner of the bordered space. The other inmates spread out as they walked, ran, or grouped together as normal.
Jayce kept his eyes on the entrance. He wanted to know if Viktor would return, and more so, exactly when he did.
Raised voices across the courtyard caught his attention. Was a fight breaking out? Two inmates were in each other’s faces, Jinx notably standing a short distance away with a smile on her face. She caught Jayce’s eyes and winked of all things. The inmates’ voices were getting increasingly loud —something about stealing playing cards— when Jayce realized the small red and white box held securely in Jinx’s grip.
Oh. Jinx was making her own entertainment since Jayce had proved to be a bust.
“Hello, Jayce,” Viktor said pleasantly. Jayce very nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of his name on Viktor’s tongue.
He spun around to see Viktor once again standing behind him leisurely. There was a twinkle in his eye— it was becoming increasingly obvious to Jayce that Viktor enjoyed sneaking up on him.
“Where were you?” Jayce couldn’t help asking. It was better than the other questions on his mind— questions that he had no idea how Viktor would respond to, or if he might be punished for asking them.
Viktor scrunched his nose in annoyance. “Solitary,” he said shortly. “Required stipulation of my stay, although they know better than to do the minimum.”
Jayce’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t expected the honesty, although it only gave him more questions than answers. “I don’t… I don’t think you ever told me what you’re in here for.”
Viktor looked at him sharply. “You’ve never asked before,” he said carefully. There was an undercurrent of challenge there, and Viktor’s eyes narrowed when he came to his own conclusions. The slender hand on his cane tightened.
“Who spoke to you?”
Jayce froze. He couldn’t miss the clear promise of danger in Viktor’s eyes, but he didn’t want to snitch on his Vastayan neighbor— especially not when he had bent over backward to make sure Jayce knew that he meant no disrespect.
Jayce gestured vaguely. “No one in particular. I’ve just, uh, overheard a couple of things. But they’re not you, obviously. I wanted to hear things directly from you. That’s— that’s fine, right?”
Viktor studied him a moment before replying. “I simply did not wish for you to get the wrong idea.”
Jayce nodded. “Of course. But that’ll only keep happening if I’m going off of what other people say.” He hesitated. “I thought… I thought we trusted each other.” He had been so eager to share his research, and Viktor had been so eager to listen. But was that all it had been? An information trade that Viktor had been eager to take advantage of? If Viktor had played him, he had played him well indeed.
Viktor winced. “I do trust you, Jayce.” He looked away briefly. “I did not want anything to come between us, including my past deeds.”
“They don’t have to,” Jayce assured. “Just tell me. Please?” He could see the way that Viktor was holding himself so carefully, as if he could not decide whether to stay or disappear once again.
Jayce released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when Viktor tapped the ground beside them with his cane, settling himself on the ground.
Jayce sat beside him quietly, waiting for him to make the first move.
“Do you know anything about the Herald?” Viktor asked at last. The tone of his voice was hard to untangle– a mixture of trepidation and pride. Like he was looking back at something he could never undo, but in the end he could only feel satisfaction.
“Nothing but rumors,” Jayce answered truthfully.
Viktor nodded. “It was foolish of me to think that you would not eventually hear of me. I went by the Herald for a very long time— still do, really. It was my wish to rid Zaun of its oppressors, to rise above the sorry lot we were given and make the world pay attention.”
Jayce learned forward imperceptibly. At last, he would hear the truth.
“At first, I thought that peace did not need violence. I did not realize that Piltover’s ignorance was not a true lack of knowledge. I thought— I thought if I could only show them the potential that Zaun had, if I could perhaps appeal to their desire for innovation, that some branch of peace between the cities could be established. I knew the vast majority would not care, but I only needed a few people to listen, a few people to care.”
Viktor’s voice hardened. “I was wrong. My childish ambition cost me the use of my body and the lives of my parents. It was not that Piltover could not see— it was that they did not want to. They chose not to recognize their oppression, so I decided that I would not give them the choice.”
He did not speak again for a pause afterwards. His gaze had been fixed on some point in the distance, but now he forced himself to turn towards Jayce.
“I do not regret my actions. No one can look at them with anything but disgust or grim appreciation, and that is how I generally view them myself. Justice is hard to bear, but few recognize the price of carrying it out.”
The words made Jayce’s stomach clench in anticipation. He knew that Viktor must have done something truly drastic to be viewed as some sort of liberator, that there was no question it would irrevocably change how he saw him. But more than anything, he wanted to hear it from Viktor himself.
“I think…” Jayce began slowly, “...I think most of all, I want to understand. I want to know what you did, and I want to know why. Morality aside, Viktor, you are the most engaging and fascinating person I’ve ever met. No part of me would judge you without hearing you out.” He didn’t add that the thought terrified him just how much he would be willing to allow for Viktor’s sake.
Viktor gave him a small smile. “Then I will not mince my words. You will hear it from me, exactly how it is.”
True to his word, Viktor did not hesitate any longer.
“My actions are probably what Piltover would consider as those of a serial killer. My network of information is vast, and my desire for justice is even more so. I worked systematically through the Piltovian elites, choosing those that would send the loudest message. I did not always carry out the executions myself, but I was always behind them.
“Petty violence accomplishes nothing, so everything I did was intentional. No death was useless. When an elite died of suffocation or strangulation, it was to symbolize the Grey that strangles so many. Poisoning was reminiscent of the Shimmer that runs rampant through Zaun’s streets. The evolution was— is— an upheaval of society’s desire to sweep suffering under the rug. I kept going for years, and my hands were soaked in blood by the time I was finally caught.
“I was apprehended after setting a manor alight with its occupant still inside. It was the very same man that killed my parents. He had ordered Enforcers to set our house on fire in the middle of the night, and although I got out, my parents did not before the structure collapsed. My leg was crushed under a falling support beam. I needed him to see his life burn down around him like mine had. I trapped him inside the burning building, and I stayed to watch it crash down on top of him.
“The house was a summer villa in the countryside, and they found me sitting on the front lawn, watching it all burn down. The man was still screaming when they arrived…”
Viktor’s voice trailed off, his eyes very far away, and he shook himself. “The only reason I am not dead is because my execution would cause an uprising in Zaun. I am revered as something of a savior. Maybe I will be in this prison till the day I die, or maybe I will be broken out before then or finally killed by Piltover’s law. Only time will tell.”
His gleaming amber eyes found Jayce’s once again. “Now you know it all.”
Jayce could only sit in stunned silence. To think— to think that Viktor could accomplish such systematic cruelty, that he could actively strive for the deaths of so many… It was terrifying. But was it any different from the lives that Piltover had taken? Hundreds, thousands more had been lost to needless violence between the two cities.
Viktor had acted as the harbinger of justice for an entire civilization, single-handedly wreaking the pain that had been felt by so many on whoever he saw fit. Guilt was viewed differently when it was on Viktor’s shoulders alone, but it paled in comparison to the collective sin of Piltover itself. Jayce couldn’t excuse it, couldn’t applaud it, but he could understand. He could feel Viktor’s— Zaun’s— pain, and he could see the clear track of liberation that Viktor had fought for.
It was as right as it was wrong.
Viktor’s eyes widened. “You do not hate me for it. I can see it in your eyes,” he said softly with something akin to awe.
Jayce shook his head roughly. “I— I don’t even know how to articulate it. You were the voice of so much pain, and Piltover only listened because you dealt in the language of blood. Can justice like that even fit into the binary of right and wrong? It’s so— violence is always cruel, but you gave it a purpose, and I don’t know what to do with that—”
Jayce startled when Viktor’s pale hand rested on his knee. They were still sitting side by the side in the grass, the lull of constant conversation and activity filling the air.
“Do not force yourself to pass a verdict on my actions. You understand. For me, that matters more.”
Jayce wavered. Was he a horrible person to let this go? To excuse Viktor’s deeds? Were Viktor’s actions even that horrible? He couldn’t begin to rationalize them one way or another, and he could see the wisdom in just setting it all aside, letting black-and-white morality fade in comparison to the sheer understanding that he felt for Viktor.
He didn’t let himself think when he placed his hand over Viktor’s own on his knee. Viktor’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak either.
Jayce stared down at their joined hands, some part of him expecting to see the trace of blood crusted under Viktor’s fingernails. But the hand nestled under his remained as human and soft as any other, dotted here and there with small freckles that matched the color of Jayce’s tan skin.
They simply sat together for a bit, and when Jayce allowed himself to take Viktor’s fingers and thread them through his own, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
How far had he fallen for Viktor so that his work as the Herald didn’t sway him? How long before he fell for the Herald just as much as Viktor?
It was a question with no obvious answer, and he didn’t know if he really even wanted to know the truth of it. Viktor’s hand was so warm and real in his own. Could his love ignore everything else? As Viktor had said earlier… only time would tell.