Part Three Of This - Moses!viktor Au - Part 1 - Part 2
part three of this - moses!viktor au - part 1 - part 2
prepare for a BIG time jump from the other two (lol). i’m still contemplating a title. leaning towards “Bitter Water Made Sweet” though. feel free to leave a suggestion! :)
The streets of The Lanes smelled of tar and sulfur dioxide. Viktor’s staff made fragmented sparks erupt each time it hit the cobble of the empty street.
It was very early morning. But, not early enough to stop the three or so families and four or so dwellers from peeking out their windows and doors to watch him as he slowly waded through the slightly flooded road. The saturated bottom hem of his viridian cloak stuck to his ankles with each new step.
He caught the eye of a little girl, her hair the color of the small gophers that he’d occasionally catch building by the river. Her eyes were bright like wheat in the sunlight. She stood all alone. He paused.
She smiled, and she sprung to life under his pointed attention, sprinting as fast as her short legs could carry her. Her hands clenched around fistfuls of the cotton fabric draped over his shoulders. She did not speak.
“What is your name?” he asked her, holding out a hand.
She stared at his palm and wrist, taking in the lapis lazuli, mauve, and gold that spun through his veins and tendons. Her mouth opened in awe, delicately taking his hand in order to inspect it further. She was mystified, and just for a moment, all his panicked worries melted away. She giggled, looking back up to meet his fond gaze.
“Isha.” The name had appeared his head with such a sudden intensity, that he was not surprised in the least when she nodded in amazement. He bent down, using his staff to balance his weight. “Do you believe in the land of milk and honey?”Isha’s chopped hair flipped up and down like flimsy spikes as she nodded. She nearly buzzed with energy. Like a battery in an engine. Or a wind up toy. He hummed, nodding as well. “Very well, follow me.”
She hid inside of his cloak, hiding herself from the sprinkling raindrops. She shivered, her bare arms full of goosebumps.
His smile faltered, and they continued on with her glued to his hip. Her hand stuck to his own, occasionally tugging the limb up to her eyes to further admire the shimmering details of magic through his skin.
It was easy to tell that she was an orphan. Especially under his own scrutiny. She was thinner than the other children, and unkempt in a way no Zaunite mother would have allowed. Her hair was slightly grown out and braided. But, the plaits were frizzy and loose from passing time. She wore patchy pants and a fraying shirt barely holding onto its seems.
When they arrived to the boarded up bar, Isha made a short noise of protest, tugging on his tunic. It draped to his calves, an ivory white like bare bone. Her fingerprints left dark spots from the soot. He ruffled her hair, the texture like straw from the dust of Zaun’s alleyways.
“Don’t you trust me?” he asked her. She looked apprehensive, but she did not leave his side. Her loyalty was strong. Her curiosity even stronger.
The dark clouds hiding what lay beyond the doors only grew darker when they drew nearer. They resembled storm clouds, and one would almost believe that they’d send out bolts of lightening if you drew too close. Mel was distressed.
He bowed for Isha to go ahead of him, his fingertips innocently brushing the dense mist. It was pleasantly toasty, a comfort away from the freezing temperature outside.
Isha steeled herself, sending her shoulders back in stern determination that brought amusement to his own chest. She stomped her way right through the splintering arch of the doorway.
He took one final glance at the sign still hung on its lonely chain, and found himself mildly surprised at the symbol painted in glinting silver over where a business title would be.
A silvery serpent twisted in a vertical, curvy zig-zag pattern, hissing at the onlooker. He also took note, upon further inspection, that there were wings on either side, meager but strong in the way they curled. Its eyes shun green when he looked away, humming in pleasure at the familiar embrace of Mel’s magic gracing his skin.
He supposed he should have been offended at the lack of confusion she confronted him with. Instead, he joined her in the center of the room, sliding down to the blood red carpet she sat on.
Her dress was modest, no patterns or showy cuts. But, it was a deep amber. If he were vain, he’d say it was the color of his eyes. But, he didn’t have to admit vanity to believe that she looked radiant. Her knuckles showcased pink scars that matched his own, etched symbols of an ancient language.
Isha had dramatically fallen into the mountain of pillows that Mel and Viktor used as a resting spot when exhaustion finally grew too intense to bare. Or, the despair.
Her hand linked with his own, “Any news?”
“He is in Piltover.” He did not address Mel’s crestfallen expression at such a statement. And he stated the rest even though he knew he didn’t have to. “He seems to think that you are behind the Black Rose’s schemes. He doesn’t act like himself.”
He stood back up, dragging himself away from her waves of emotion. She was angry, something that tended to soak into his own skin and burn.
He unclasped the iron wings over his jugular notch. His fingers shook slightly as he bent down and draped the dry side of the cloth over the child. She was almost asleep, her eyes already closed and face smoothed out by the time he was standing straight again.
“We need to intervene.” Mel beckoned him back, holding a hand out for him to take. He obeyed, being careful of his askew leg as he joined her once again.
As they sat in considering silence, he wished to make a spot for himself in the cushions as well. His body did not feel the urge to rest, but his heart pulled him in too many directions at once, and he felt it most prominent in this turmoil.
“It will be necessary,” he admitted, “His influence is beginning to strain the faith of the Trenches as well.”
Mel’s lips twisted in a grimace, “Perhaps he was always too weak.” Viktor surveyed her in quiet, his own lips pursed in slow comprehension. “We should continue on without him. I will sever the connection entirely.” She sat straighter, not once glancing up to acknowledge any of Viktor’s shock or disbelief. He took her other hands back as she closed her eyes in order to focus. They flew open.
The pads of his thumbs flattened out the strain of her clenched fists. He sighed at the same time she did.
“Have mercy on him. He does not know better.”
“We trusted better from him,” she argued.
He battled with himself. The faith that had been mentioned previously, the belief they had gained from most of Zaun, was torturing him. Because he was selfish. He was not simply loyal to the cause anymore. It all boiled down to his Mel and his Jayce. The world be damned. The Black Rose be damned. He would rather burn at the stake, or rot in the basement of Stillwater, or drown in the Goddamned Pilt, than give up on either of them.
“He is just a man. A man who acts on instinct, no matter how flawed it might be. He deserves another chance. He has never let us down before.”
He’d grovel at Mel’s feet to give Jayce a second chance. He’d plea and debate until he ran out of breath. He’d comfort them both through the betrayal of it. Mourn the unfairness in his own solitude.
She crossed her arms, looking him all over. Her eyes traveled from the curls of gold and copper wire around strands of his overgrown hair to the rusty iron anklets that jingled around his ankles when he moved.
“And why is that?” Her chin was tilted up, her brows furrowed. She looked a little wild. Her hair stuck up around the crown of her head, like static caused during a storm. Her tunic draped off of one shoulder, showing the soft skin of her clavicle. Her stockings had holes from where she had poked holes while stewing in her stress. He realized with a slight start, that he had been away for three days on his trek to Topside.
Her eyes burned like gas that which met flame. She was filled with an abundance of wrath and disappointment towards the third link to their souls. He felt a strange sense of pity.
“You are not strong enough to rush the plan, Anděl.” He caresses her cheek, tucking one of the braids behind her ear when it slipped into her eyes. He noted that he’d have to retouch them.
“The Rose is the least of my worries,” she waved his concern off.
“I would not be so sure of that,” he warned.
“They are cowards using Jayce as a pawn. And he is just as bad while allowing them to.”
“I do not think—“
“—And how does he believe for a second that they could be me? I would not carry on without you Viktor, what makes him think—.”
“—He is under the assumption that we are dead. As far as I could tell, he’s just happy to have someone.” He brought her face closer, nose to nose as the realization dawned on her.
After a long time, she spoke to him in a broken whisper.
“Go to him, Viktor, my presence will be with you.”
More Posts from Gardezamour and Others
new thoughts for this post
i really want to do an alternating chapter fic.
i’ve already started said fic here.
and it starts with james escaping with harry, and kickstarting an au where harry grows up with his father while voldemort survives halloween night.
BUT
imagine if the even numbered chapters were an au where lily survives. she doesn’t flee upstairs, she RUNS. she takes her son and she doesn’t look back. she thinks james is behind her, but eventually realizes that it was peter chasing her.
and, basically, at the end, the au’s connect in some way. in as close to a happy ending as possible (😬). i don’t want to spoil everything i have planned so far. but i’m so excited lolol.
just— two alternative universes where both parents are single handedly trying to raise their son in a failed world. trying to stay alive when every corner they turn could be the end.
i love them :,) tragically
i saw a post with this scene the other day. ⬆️
a lot of people had commented this and that about their depictions of vi being jealous and shocked that jinx was up there with vander instead of herself.
and (as a troubled eldest daughter myself) that broke my heart a bit. although, i think it is realistic for vi to have shown a moment of vulnerability with the audience and then be ripped to pieces by individuals declaring it resentment and selfishness. no shade.
personally, i latched onto that tiny moment where her face falls. the animation of such a flicker of something akin to disappointment is astonishing.
i do think she’s seeing the mural for what it’s lacking. because it is lacking her. but, i think it has more to do with the fact that jinx and vander are there, but she’s not with them. not even necessarily including the political context. just the fact that even a random painting on a random wall lacked her presence just as much as real life.
she should have been right next to her little sister, but she wasn’t. she had both lost that choice, and then made the wrong one.
i can’t help but wonder if the years of being an imprisoned child so incredibly scared that she’d never get another chance for see her sister flashed before her eyes.
i think that mural shackled her to the fact that her world had continued on without her. and she wasn’t needed around to make it function anymore.
vander and their parents’ deaths had instilled in her that her sole purpose was to keep the earth spinning and to keep jinx safe. but, in the end, jinx had adapted. vi hadn’t.
lol
sorry for ranting! i could be entirely wrong, don’t take this to heart. it’s just what i took in and reflected on, and i wanted to share my thoughts. i find it so strangely comforting to see an oldest daughter go through so many punches and such heavy emotional strain and still keep her head up.
she’s so imperfect and i love her.
au were silco finds out vi is still alive. much earlier than in canon. and then having vulnerable feelings ensue) sorry silco. :(
here’s a teeny dabble on it while i think about how to go about it:
Silco didn’t make it a habit to travel Topside. He preferred the damp shadows of Zaun. And besides, a step in Piltover meant an immediate risk to his entire means. Which had been proven easily enough when he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Although he covered his bases, and he wasn’t dense, incidents occurred. In addition to the fact that he was unfortunately, still very human, and the bridge of the nation’s boarder made his head swim and his eye ache terribly. He’d ignore the pang of hurt that continued to hit him in the chest until the day he died. Possibly even longer.
Stillwater was probably the closest thing a convicted Piltie would get to living in Zaun. Enforcers at every corner, barely enough food, and enough back-talk to fill the Pilt River. It made him miss work in the mines. Where the labor was absolute shit, but the people kept you coming back. He’d leave with enough pain in his body to knock out an elephant, but with Vander’s arm keeping him warm and Felica’s sass reminding him to laugh. Back when it had all been worth it, without a doubt. Blisters and bedrock.
It was no matter to him either way now, Marcus would correct his people’s error. If he knew what was good for him and his naive child. Silco knew himself, and his people knew him almost good enough. There was a tight deadline ticking away the second the puny rookie with black hair had strapped his wrists. In the mean time, Stillwater was tolerable. Besides the florescent lights that burned his damaged eye.
A flash of magenta made him halt in front of the guard behind him. His shackles clanged as he took a step back.
She almost looked like her mother. Almost. Jinx was a closer resemblance. Violet held a wrath that seemed to seep from her bones, her eyes hardened with so much determination and attentiveness that it made him weary.
What truly made him stumble, was the way she held herself. The slightest slouch, making herself look smaller than she was. Her fists were wrapped by stained scraps of white fabric. They were clenched, making the linen taut around her swollen knuckles. And, by the way a few of the men around her slithered away, she had earned a level of rightful hierarchy inside.
Worst of all, Silco snapped his jaw shut, was the fact that she was so much like him. Like Vander. He didn’t need to venture towards her to know. He knew it by the way she stewed by herself while everyone else gathered in pairs and groups. How her lips twisted upon noticing him. Even the flicker of hope that crossed like a bullet.
A hopelessly lonely soul. Two peas in a pod.
Vander had been alone, before any one of their group had drawn together. He had been alone, and he had stewed. He lived by his brute strength and bravery, and Vi was following all the same footsteps. Like a child in thick snowbanks.
He almost pitied her. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that it was more of a mourning. Of what their lives could have consisted of. If everything hadn’t gone sideways.
The moment was broken when a rounded baton poked him sharply in his spine, “Move.” He glowered. But, he did adhere to the rookie’s insolence. Vi was spinning her food tray around in circles on the table, eyes dark with murderous intent.
The blue of her eyes made him miss Connol, who had always managed to keep their chaos barred. Unfortunately, Vi didn’t seem to even vaguely carry such a patience from her biological father.
She really was Vander’s girl. Fitting.
He felt eyes on the back of head even after he was locked away behind four stone walls and an iron door. She had stuck to him like an oil residue, and he felt dreadful at the realization.
He reflected on the discovery of her life. Knowing he wouldn’t allow himself once his current mess was in the process of being cleaned up, there would be too much to be done after such a discovery. With Violet alive, there were bridges left unburned. And he would have to figure a way to either bury the hatchet, or find a match to strike.
If he could handle disposing of the one person he’d loved and trusted the most, he could deal with just another byproduct. He stared at one of the little glints of light through the cracks of the door.
But, as he was all by his lonesome in a frigid box, his mind wandered to Vander. And, against his will, he mourned some more.
CHAPTER THREE - link here
@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen
zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.
something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.
after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.
and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.
but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.
here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.
because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.
so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.
zaun’s hand
viktor disappears. his apartment is untouched, his desk is the same mess of papers as it usually was, and sky had seemed to have gone with him.
jayce is in disarray. he’s blowing off counsel meetings. he’s either ignoring mel, or giving her fake assurances he had little intention of following through with. he spends every waking minute trying to piece together what happened.
there weren’t any notes, letters, or clues. they had just gone. and people didn’t just disappear in piltover. that was the whole point of his mother almost dying when he was a child. people don’t vanish in a city of gold and government order.
he eventually hears whispers. he sees posters here and there pasted to the walls of zaun’s alleys. an inhuman hand shading a horrific looking eye.
and he laughs at how viktor would have hated to hear about another idiot trying to “fix” his home. so, he keeps looking for the only think that hasn’t been left behind.
the crutch.
…do you get it? (can you imagine it??? 😭 the idea has been eating me away)
jayvik au where jayce keeps getting sent back in time to fix what happens to viktor instead of killing him. (mage viktor met kid jayce, why couldn’t jayce just go back?? (and maybe i CAN think of a couple reasons why not, but i’m ignoring them))
so over and over again (similarly to ekko preventing jinx from pulling that pin) jayce is brought back to the day of the explosion in the councilors room.
it gets worse before it gets better. either jayce dies in the explosion because mel couldn’t get to him, or viktor gets upset with him because he abruptly cancels the meeting to bring peace to zaun and viktor just ends up growing more distant from him, or viktor dies anyway because he was getting sicker by the day before the explosion killed him, or viktor gets addicted to shimmer and bad things happen between that and the hexcore all over again (this specific outcome nearly makes jayce go insane, because he had been SO close before it all went to shit), or (most common) NOTHING he says will make viktor stop from leaving after using the hexcore to save him.
he. just. keeps. walking. out.
jayce can’t figure out why, but keeps trying. it’s incredibly debilitating watching your soulmate die dozens of times. but he keeps going, getting more and more desperate each time he wakes up to a new dying viktor.
it might be easier to have been brought back farther. before viktor’s collapse, before sky dies, before viktor was already fused with arcane and shimmer. before he’d made the mistake of choosing fame over his purpose. basically, before viktor started to realize that he was all alone. but who said changing fate was supposed to be easy?
what it comes down to is an au where jayce has to trial and error his way into getting the life back to viktor’s very destroyed soul in…like…three days. and he has to learn that he c— sorry i can’t say what the lesson would be! because that would be spoiling it!! you silly goose!!!
it’s basically a love story :D
bonus: (meljayvik bonus: because we know i love mel too much not to include her) she senses something going on through her empath powers. and at some point she’s unintentionally being dragged into it. power of teamwork to save their doomed dying partner!
Ok I read this amazing fic yesterday (basically a sorta rewrite/canon divergence) by @gardezamour and it gave me a burst of inspiration regarding Viktor's codename in my crossover AU with P5R as in this, he goes by "Canary" along with Powder's "Jinx" (she kinda doesn't become Jinx tho at the same time) and it actually dawned on me that canaries were used in mines and Zuan had such! Yeah... I was a little slow there... But anyhow! Read it! It's so good guys!!! 😍
Tho idk if it's final or maybe a variant of the word will be considered because aaaaa it's too good so I tip my hat to you author! It's also inspiring HCs in my brain too so there's that at least if anything! ^_^
James knotted the rope as tight as he could. The fraying fibers cut into Peter’s shoulders like twine making a hay bale bulge, but he couldn’t help the urge to check that Harry was still asleep upstairs.
His eye twitched the longer it was trained on Peter’s pale, sweaty face. And his fists clenched tightly around the wands in each hand. He didn’t miss the way grey eyes flickered down to ebony wood. He was scared, James realized with a bit of a start. He was shaking in the chair like a cornered animal.
His sandy hair was choppy, like someone had taken shears to it as a punishment. His face was breaking out, splotches of red like hives throughout his skin. His teeth were yellowing, and his nails were caked in dirt and overgrown.
He began to cry, and James’ curiosity quickly changed to fury.
“What are you weeping about?” he demanded, watching his volume. Peter wailed, only stopping when he bowed his head at James’ pointed wand at his nose.
“I’m sorry!” he stammered through each syllable.
James thought of Snape and Regulus answering vaguely whenever he asked about Peter. Saying he was serving Voldemort from one manor to the next. Staying hidden for the sake of keeping Sirius locked away. He briefly wondered if they’d held back more information to spare him the feeing he had in that moment.
Lily’s face appeared in front of him, the walls of their old home like blurry shadows behind her. He didn’t hear anything when her mouth moved, but he recognized the terror in her eyes. The tears that had fallen as she’d said goodbye.
“How could you do it?” he asked, hollow to Peter’s wide, fretful eyes.
“He made me,” Peter pleaded. The fingers of his left hand wriggled. “He made me vow to serve him until my death.” He shivered, as if the memory he’d conjured up made him weary. James felt like he was back in front of the television. “An unbreakable vow.”
James felt his heart break. It caught him off guard, and he sought to figure how it could have splintered even more. Instead, he stuffed a cloth napkin in Peter’s flapping mouth.
“I hadn’t asked you to do so much,” he waved his wand and watched as thin strings of silvery magic wrapped around Peter like cords of wire. He looked his betrayer in the eye, “Funny how you’ve made everything worse for yourself just on your own.”
He heard light taps above them, signaling his son’s rise.
the “fic” mentioned in the tags
Hey! 😊
I hope you're doing well.
II’m reaching out with something really close to my heart. A dear friend and his family are going through an incredibly hard time.
They urgently need support, and even the smallest act of kindness — a share or donation — could make a life changing difference.
This is about compassion, about standing by each other when it matters most. 💛
Thank you so much for taking a moment to care 🙏
@adamallii87
Thank you for reaching out!!
I’ll be donating, and I’ll most definitely spread the word.
here’s a link to their gofundme
and
here’s a link to their pinned post
Much love to you and my prayers and infinite hope for peace for Mohamad and his family <3
Galway Girl is a Merlin ship song. I don’t know which ship
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