Chapter Text
Jayce felt the moon in his veins that night.
She was waxing, a crescent shy of fullness, her pale light blanketing the towering roofs of Zaun’s labyrinthine capitol. Though all was still, he couldn’t shake the unblinking eyes that followed them in darkness. They were watched from the moment they set foot in the city. Their observers were unseen and near undetectable, but the prickling at the back of his neck was a constant reminder that they were there. Lurking.
The City of Zaun, he imagined, would be beautiful during the day. It was a twisted, endless maze of gothic architecture, so tall and imposing it made the sky a distant stranger, with its cobblestone never knowing the touch of natural light. Details of painstaking craftsmanship could be seen, from the most innocuous balconette to the statued animals leering from ledges, he marvelled at what he might see if not for the night. ‘The City In Shadow’ people in Piltover called it, said to be populated by a people so sinister they were walking evil. It was surprisingly well-lit, despite these notions. Not by the welcoming warmth permitted by the street lamps of Piltover, but rather a technicolour of lamplight that clashed garishly with the limestone. Amidst these multilevel apartments and shops were grotesquely large, cathedral-like structures with pinnacles built so high they penetrated the clouds.
One such structure was the Sanguine Citadel: the grand centrepiece of the capitol.
It could be seen as far as the outskirts of the city, looming in the distance, unmistakable in its jagged, archaic visage, steeped in a purple haze that masked how gargantuan it truly was. The closer they came the Citadel seemed to double in mass. Until finally, they halted at the bridge leading up to its western entrance, their heads tilted back in silent awe.
They were stationary for several minutes, until Caitlyn whirled her head around to face Vi. “Are you sure you can handle this? Because if you don’t want to come with us—”
“I told you before. I’ll be fine,” Vi said, impatience creeping into her tone.
“If your sister—”
“If she’s there, then I’ll cop it. Besides, we aren’t sisters—not anymore.”
Caitlyn regarded Vi critically, before turning to Jayce. “Do we… cross?”
“I don’t know,” Jayce answered earnestly.
Their arrival should not be unexpected. He sent a written announcement ahead of time warning of their approach. The only response he received in return was a letter, delivered by a raven, blemished with a single, inked word: “Come”. Zaun’s leader seemed the type to know the names of each and every person who came and went from his city, most especially that of outsiders.
“Well, there’s no turning back now,” Vi said, giving her horse a slap. Caitlyn, seated on the very same horse, gave a shout of surprise as the stallion lurched fowards.
Jayce hastened to follow.
They were halfway across the bridge, a perilous drop into a sludge-like moat on either side, when the portcullis shrieked into motion. They immediately stopped. Four Zaunites approached, led by a tall, muscular woman who looked as though she enjoyed peeling fingernails off her enemies.
“I’ll do the talking,” Jayce said to Vi and Caitlyn. “Vampyres will use any excuse to goad us if it means starting another conflict between Piltover and Zaun. We can’t afford to let that happen. Not now.”
Vi and Caitlyn shared a look, and nodded.
The woman in front stopped short, sized them up, then snorted.
“Surprised nobody jumped you dressed as you are. But I guess a born and bred Piltie wouldn’t know the first thing about being aware of their own surroundings.” Her voice was as rough as she looked.
Jayce cleared his throat. “I’m—”
“We know who you are, Jayce Talis. I could sniff your Lycan filth three miles away. Dismount from your horses. Our staff will water and feed them at the stables. The three of you will come with me.” There was no room for argument.
Handing over their horses felt like strolling naked into a furnace. There went their only means of escape. No going back from here. A Lycan couldn’t outrun a Vampyre in their human form, and even if they could, they wouldn’t make it to the other side of the bridge before hordes would be upon them.
Much like the city streets, the Citadel’s internal structure was disorientating and endless. Hallways upon hallways, doors upon doors, alcoves upon alcoves. He lost their bearings not five minutes after entering through the Citadel’s gaping, stone entrance. Each new area they glimpsed held a touch of uniqueness to it that broke the monotony. Stained glass windows splashed watercolour across intricately woven runners and well-worn mahogany floors; intimately painted portraits hung in filigree-laden frames; and there wasn’t a single moment where a clock was out of eyesight, each one different and custom-made with their own distinctive quirks. It reminded Jayce of the moon dials in Lycan households. Just as the Vampyre must situate themselves around the time of night, so too does the Lycan situate themselves around the moon and her phases.
They walked for so long that Jayce had started to make a game out of counting the clocks he could spy. Caitlyn and Vi were bickering behind him, failing to be quiet. Their escort kept giving them looks over her prosthetic shoulder. He thought he even heard her scoff once or twice.
Jayce almost ran into her when she stopped in front of conspicuous double doors. A step closer and he likely would have lost his ear. The guards standing either side in obsidian armour openly glared at them. Caitlyn flatly ignored them, as though their presence was beneath her acknowledgement, while Vi looked constipated trying to hold back a snarl. Jayce straightened with a deep breath. His heart was sinking into his stomach, a frigid coldness prickling his arms and legs.
This was it.
Their escort heaved the doors open with great effort and entered without hesitation, the three of them close behind her.
The first thing Jayce registered, beyond what he could see, was the sound of music. An instrument, undoubtedly the pitched, solemn wail of a violin, beckoned like the covet of a solitary lover. It echoed in the grand hall. It carried to the ceilings, which were somehow taller, if possible, than the rest of the Citadel they had journeyed through. Iron-wrought candle chandeliers hung between great foundational columns, bracketing either side of the centre runway leading to the back, where an elevated throne patiently awaited them.
As they drew nearer, the throne came into plainer view, and with it, the figure who sat upon it. Slightly behind the throne was the titular violinist, whose back was to them as they played with gestured feeling, almost careful not to move their body below the hips. Jayce might have missed the third figure present, if not for a long, strikingly blue braid that fell from the cradle of a grand, arch window high enough above the platform for Jayce to wonder how she got there.
Their escort stopped feet from the steps leading to the throne. She bowed her head, a gloved hand to her chest. “Jayce Talis and company.”
The figure that sat the throne, a man of slight frame and imposing aura, raised his hand. The violin ceased. Its player still had their back turned, but appeared to have sensed the gesture. Now closer, Jayce could see that the bow was oddly shaped in a manner difficult to describe.
Their escort wordlessly stepped aside.
Jayce inched closer to the steps, clutching his wrist behind his back as he gazed, unflinchingly, into the wickedness staring back at him.
“Count Silco, thank you for agreeing to meet with me in your domain. I know it mustn’t have been easy—”
“Speak your purpose, pup. I don’t have patience for Piltie pleasantries.”
“You will address him as Councilman Talis!” Caitlyn snaps. Jayce raised his hand to stop her approaching steps.
Vi placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let ‘em rile you so easy, cupcake. These leeches will say anything to get under your skin.”
A snort from up above stole their attention. The girl, unconcerned with the dangerous height she balanced from, leant forward, narrowing her gaze at Vi. “It’d be fun to do if you mutts didn’t make it so easy. You gotta lotta sweaty balls waltzing in here like you own the place. Last I heard ‘o you sis, you’d joined the mutts. I told myself—I said ‘Jinx! That’s so dumb! Vi would never stoop that low’, but boy was I wrong! You even smell like them now.”
“Quiet, Jinx,” Silco said softly, mildly amused. She obeyed with a scoff. “To what do we owe the pleasure of Piltover’s newest council member? Congratulations, by the way. Your Lunabye was a stroke of genius. No doubt it will occupy every Lycan’s household medicine cabinet within the decade.”
Despite the compliment, it sounded like a sneering insult. Lunabye was Jayce’s greatest achievement as a scientist. It was so revolutionary that it won him a seat on the council, expanding the number to eight where previously the council had traditionally held only seven. He would not allow Silco’s mockery to undermine his achievement.
Jayce squared his shoulders. “We are here because Piltover needs your aid. A touch-borne plague is spreading through our territory, effecting humans and Lycans alike, and we have yet to identify what it is or how to cure it. What we’ve observed so far is that it eats away at the flesh, corrupting the blood and infecting the bone. Dozens are dying by the day, and hundreds more will join them if we do not take action soon.”
Jayce paused, and when met with indulgent silence, he continued: “So far we know that the freezing properties of Vampyre blood slows down the corrosive acceleration. We have traced the origins of the plague back to Zaun. I am here with two requests: first, we require at least a megalitre of Vampyre blood to administer to those affected and to help develop a vaccine; second, we need a Zaunite native to guide us through Zaun territory to investigate the source of the plague and prevent future outbreaks and strains from devastating our people.”
There was a moment of stillness, where everyone seemed to hold their breath. Jayce did his best to be brave. Inside, he was trembling. Count Silco was as fearful as described. A gray, gnarled scar savaged half his face, withering around a discoloured, glowing red eye. Size-wise, Jayce could snap Silco in half like a toothpick, yet his presence, the air in which he carried himself, felt ten times larger.
He seemed bored by Jayce’s news. “You know, not once in your appeal did I hear even so much as a word adjacent to ‘please’. It seems terribly ironic that Piltover only ever concerns itself with the business of Zaun when it is in need of something, and yet when it is the reverse, you mortals bury your heads in gold-flecked dirt and abstain from involvement.”
“I know the history between Piltover and Zaun is… complicated.”
Jinx cackled, making Jayce flinch in surprise. “Uh—understatement of the century, don’cha think?”
Jinx was right. It was an understatement. Their territories had been in conflict for close to half a millennium, beginning when Vampyres first came into being. It just so happened (however convenient that it was for Piltover), that their territories were in a tentative semblance of peace at this time. Enough for Jayce to enter Zaun territory without being immediately torn to shreds, at least. Making requests for aid, however, was another matter entirely.
Jayce’s eyebrows pinched together. He closed his eyes and spoke his next words carefully. “I know Pilover is guilty of wrongdoing against Zaun and its people. We have turned our backs when opportunities arose for us to be better, to do better for both territories. Apologies for these transgressions won’t change the past, but as a newly appointed member of Piltover’s council I now have the power to assert considerable influence over matters of diplomacy. Name your price in exchange for my requests, and I will do all I can to honour it.”
Silco considered him for a moment. He rubbed the corner of his jaw, then rested his chin in his palm.
“Allow me to mull things over. Join us for dinner in the early morn; I will have my answer for you by then. For now, you must be travel wary. Viktor will escort you to the guest wing where you may rest and freshen up.”
The violinist finally turned to face them, tucking the violin under his arm. “As you wish… father.”
Their gazes met, and Jayce forgot to breathe.
Viktor was lithe and much smaller than him, with attitude written into the curl of his mouth and the squint of his catlike eyes. In one fluid, graceful motion, he fashioned his violin bow into an elegant walking stick, which he relaxed against his right side. His leg was in a vice-like metal brace that reached from shin to thigh. Jayce had encountered Vampyres with prosthetics before, much like their escort and her arm, but never one with a brace. Despite Viktor’s obliging words, he looked anything but pleased to oblige, walking with a slight limp towards a door off to the side.
Realising Viktor wasn’t going to bother waiting for them to catch up, Jayce quickly thanked Silco for considering his requests and for his hospitality before hurrying to follow.
Thankfully the journey to the guest wing wasn’t as tiresome as it had been from the entrance to the throne room. Viktor walked fast, despite his limp, never once attempting to make conversation with them. Rather, he seemed determined to ignore them. Jayce found his eyes wondering to Viktor’s hair every so often, chestnut brown and soft-looking.
When Viktor finally whirled around, his face nearly collided with Jayce’s chest. It was at this moment Jayce realised Viktor had not one, but two beauty marks—one beneath his eye and the other above the corner of his lip.
Cute.
Viktor gestured to the doors opposite one another. He avoided Jayce’s stare, and spoke in a soothing, accented voice, “These rooms should suffice. Someone will come to escort you to dinner, which will be around 4am. I suggest getting as much rest as you can in the meantime.”
The pale Zaunite then left in the direction that he came. Jayce called out to thank him, but Viktor did not indicate whether he heard him or not. His eyes lingered on the man’s receding form—longer than necessary. It was only when Vi cleared her throat that he realised what he was doing and shook his head.
Caitlyn opened one of the doors and entered with tense suspicion. She emerged a few moments later, probably once she confirmed there weren’t any Vampyres hiding in the closet. “We should probably stay in the same room. It’s less risky that way. I’ll stay up and keep watch—you two get some rest.”
“You need sleep too, cupcake,” Vi said.
Caitlyn shook her head. “I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep in a place like this. Come on. Let’s not stay out in the hallway.”
Vi took the couch without discussion, so Jayce accepted the lavish, queen-sized, four-poster bed.
This outcome was almost worse, in a way, because the anticipation of what Silco would want in return was greater now than it had ever been. The thought of what Zaun may demand in return for their aid had seemed a lesser concern in the face of what was happening in Piltover. Despite the cautionary words from his fellow council members, desperation led him to the doorstep of their territory’s greatest adversary in the hopes of salvation. Now that he was here, it seemed all too real. Demands were about to be made—demands that would likely alter the diplomatic landscape between territories and make him more than a few enemies on his own home turf.
But then he thought of the plague. Its awful distortion. Its painful corruption. He had witnessed it firsthand in the intensive ward at Kiramman West Hospital. Entire families were separated and quarantined. Babies shuddered and croaked in their incubators. The elderly died, reaching to grasp for comfort the medical staff could not provide them.
Jayce tucked the duvet under his chin.
He couldn’t allow the plague to continue to hurt his people. He would find a solution, no matter the risk, no matter the cost.
He would succeed.