blacklightwriter - Tumblr blog

blacklightwriter · 5 months ago

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

Story Summary: EXTREME SLOW BURN. A woman from war-torn Demacia is transported to Zaun, where she makes ends meet. Her skills in inventing catch the attention of a Piltovan, who extends a full ride through Piltover Academy, which she accepts. Here, her adventure begins. Content Warning: Violence, war. Word Count: 3k (yum yum) Author's Note: I am so thankful for the love my first chapter in this story got! It warms my heart. Again, I am new to posting in the fanfic space, so if there's anything I can do to make reading my work an easier experience for you all, please let me know! I hope you enjoy it! The next chapter will be posted tomorrow! Find me on Ao3!

I woke up with a mask on my face and my vision blurry. My head pounded painfully as my eyes moved slowly across my surroundings, trying to make anything out. My throat and lips were dry and everything seemed foggy. The beating in my head slowly got worse, causing me to let out a soft groan.

“Are you awake, doll?” A deep, husky voice asked.

I moved my head in the direction of the voice, taking note of the fact that my body was wrapped in soft blankets and on a couch.

Everything was slowly, but surely coming back. The events leading to me being here. My dad was probably dead and I was no longer home. I was in Zaun.

I saw a large figure sitting in a chair nearby, but I had to squint to make out its features. He was a huge and burly man, his bulging muscles flexing as he uncrossed his arms to pick his chair up and move closer to me. His bearded face showed dark eyes laced with concern.

I opened my mouth to speak to the stranger, but nothing left my mouth. A weird strangled noise came out instead of words and I winced at the slight discomfort, licking my lips in an attempt to get more lubricant to talk.

“Sounds like you need water,” he replied, reaching over to the table next to the couch I was in and grabbing a mug. He turned his attention back to me, moving his hand over to the mask that sat on my face and hovering, his eyes flashing with uncertainty as he looked at me.

“May I?” he asked, his hand still hovering.

I watched him carefully, knowing that being in a new place with new people in a completely different culture, I should be more careful, especially since I was still in Zaun. I had heard that Zaun was one of the least safe places in all of Runeterra if you weren’t vigilant, but the idea of getting anything to satiate the thirst I had seemed to quell that fear. I also couldn’t ignore that he looked at me the same way my dad did whenever he took care of me. If I wasn’t so dehydrated, I might have started to cry.

I nodded slowly and he gently removed the mask, placing the cup to my lips and tilting it back so I could drink. The cool liquid provided relief from the itchy throat and a temporary relief from my thoughts as all I could focus on was how good it felt. I eagerly drank the whole cup, licking my lips as he pulled it away, a smile on his face.

“Someone is thirsty, huh?” he teased, standing up and going to a different room where I heard the sound of water running. He returned with the mug and we repeated the process at least three more times until I finally pushed away from the mug and placed my head on the pillow, my thirst quenched.

I felt those thoughts rush back to me. The loss of my dad standing at the forefront. If they killed him, I’m sure they killed my mother, too. Demacians did not take too kindly to magic, especially when it was right outside the main city. I felt anger towards my parents. How could they be so naive to use magic like that? They knew it was a death sentence for them and yet they still did this. They left me by myself.

I felt tears prickle at my eyes and I turned away from the kind stranger, not wanting to show how weak I was to someone I didn’t know. I needed to get it together.

I heard the man let out a heavy sigh and despite my efforts, tears still silently fell from my eyes, softly pattering onto the pillow beneath me. It was quiet for a moment more.

“My name is Vander, by the way.” His voice a mere whisper.

I let out a sniffle as my nose got congested from my crying, cursing myself for giving myself away. I just wanted to be left alone. That’s all I was. Some silly kid…some silly orphan. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No one to go to. Alone. I felt another wave of tears wash over me, feeling the hole in my heart deepen, a hole that could only be filled by my mother and father.

“Where am I?” I whispered, moving my aching arms to hold myself. A sad attempt to get some comfort from my collapsing world.

“At my bar: The Last Drop.”

I wish I could know where that was. My geographical knowledge was limited to that of what Demacian schools taught us. In class, we had only really discussed important landmarks of Piltover, but rarely ever discussed Zaun. It was deemed unimportant since who, if anyone, would willingly visit Zaun?

I felt exhausted, but I knew I couldn’t stay here forever. I had to figure out my next steps.

I slowly sat up and looked around the room to try to figure out where I was, feeling surprised upon seeing children's clothes and beds. Four beds to be exact. I felt my brows furrow in confusion. There were kids here? In a bar?

“Ah, yeah. My kids were the ones that found you and brought you here. Poor Powder was…well, she is worried sick.” He said, sounding embarrassed.

I turned to him, leaning my weight against the arm of the couch. “Kids?”

He seemed pleased to get some conversation out of me, a small smile playing on his features. A fireplace behind him flickered softly, casting a warm glow into the room.

“Yes. I adopted them off the streets after…” he drifted off, his eyes going distant for a moment before returning. “Well, after they lost their parents in a war.”

War. A common theme for losing people these days it would seem.

“That’s very kind of you,” I whispered, my face looking down at my feet so my hair would hide my face. I didn’t want to give away just how close to home that struck me.

“It’s the least I could do. Although, they have proven to be a bit of a handful.” He chuckled.

It was quiet then. Neither of us knew what to say to each other. I pondered if I could ask him questions. Any person who could take in kids, especially ones who lost their families in a war, had to be a good person, right? Maybe he could help me figure out my next steps?

“If I may,” he said hesitantly, “I noticed when the kids brought you in, you had a necklace.”

I froze and instinctively reached for my father’s necklace, feeling a mixture of relief a sorrow when it was still there, its stone surface cold against my fingers.

“I may not be a well-traveled man, but many o’ folk travel through here for the markets, and I’ve only seen those necklaces on Demacians.” He stated, eyes gauging my reaction to his words.

I gulped, my nerves wracking my body. I didn’t like how a stranger knew so much about me, especially when I was in such a dangerous place.

“It’s made of petricite, right? To weaken magic?”

“What exactly are you asking me?” I hissed, trying to appear scarier than I felt.

He seemed to note my tone. “I only wanted to ask how you got here.” He said cautiously.

I shook my head, trying to hide the fact that the rest of my body was shaking. I wasn’t sure if it was from sorrow or from fear or both, but I knew no matter what, I couldn’t answer. Then all of this would be real, and I had to be having a nightmare right now. Soon, I would wake up in my bed to the smell of breakfast my mother was making and I would hear my dad sing a song he had heard while at work. This was all just an impressively realistic nightmare. It had to be.

“Okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, doll. I apologize for overstepping. I just want to make sure you get where you’re supposed to be. A young girl shouldn’t be in the streets by herself.”

Where I’m supposed to be? That’s the question of the hour. How do I tell him that I had nowhere I was supposed to be? No place to call home. Do I lie to him? Tell him the truth?

A soft knock pattered from the door that sat on top of the stairs. I suppose that was the way out of here. The door opened slowly and a small girl with blue hair appeared, peeking carefully inside.

“Not now, Powder.” Vander said sternly, turning the upper half of his body to look at the young child.

She looked at me curiously before moving her eyes to Vander, growing smaller under his gaze.

“Sorry. I heard voices.” She apologized sheepishly, looking at her feet.

“It’s okay,” I said to my own surprise. “I would be curious, too.”

Her eyes flicked back to me, casting a look of gratefulness to me. I found her presence incredibly comforting. This meant that this Vander wasn’t lying, and clearly Powder felt comfortable enough to peek her head in when she heard us talking. My confidence in finding answers with Vander increased.

“Um,” she pushed the door forward, taking a cautious step forward when Vander didn’t protest. “I wanted to ask if you wanted your stuff. The bag that was with you? I figured you might’ve wanted it so I carried that while everyone else carried you.”

I smiled gratefully, nodding. “Yes, please.”

She nodded and returned my smile, going back up through the door. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

She departed, leaving the door ajar, her footsteps thumping loudly.

“I apologize. Powder is a bit too stubborn for her own good. Gets it from her sister.” Vander said with an easy smile.

I shook my head, feeling a bit more at relaxed. “I was a lot like her when I was that young. That curiosity never really goes away. At least it didn’t for me.”

He nodded, his eyes flickering in the firelight, his mouth in a tight line as he debated something internally. “Where can I take you? Do you have family visiting in Piltover?”

I felt my body tense up again. That all too familiar sorrow creeping in once more. I looked at him, hoping to communicate with him that I didn’t have anywhere to go with my eyes. Pleading with him to not make me answer that question.

Heavy footsteps approached the door and Powder appeared again, lugging my bag with what looked to be immense effort. I sighed in relief at her appearance.

“Here.” She grunted, bringing the bag clumsily to the foot of the couch and dropping it. “Oops, sorry.”

She looked at me expectantly and I smiled, moving my legs to make room for her to sit, patting the newly free space.

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise and she looked at Vander for permission, to which he nodded. She cautiously sat down next to me, fiddling with her hands nervously.

“So, you aren’t from Zaun, right?”

I shook my head, eyeing my bag and realizing I didn’t even know what all my father put in there. I clenched my jaw, knowing it would be a while before I had the heart to look in there again.

“Well, where are you from?” She asked, her blue eyes burning with curiosity.

“Powder, I think we should give her some time to rest.” Vander protested, but I held my hand up at him to silence him.

“It’s okay, really.” I turned my attention back to Powder. “How much do you know about Runeterra, Powder?”

She giggled at how I said her name, flashing me a toothy grin. “I know all about it! Vi has shown me maps before.”

“Vi?”

“My sister.”

I nodded, making a mental note of this. “Right. Well, do you have one of those maps? Maybe I can show you.”

Her eyes clouded with thought as she contemplated something, before gasping and then heading over to one of the beds and digging underneath it. Clattering noises filled the room as she threw various objects around before she finally pulled out a sheet of paper and brought it over, satisfied with her search, causing me to chuckle. I glanced over it, my fingers skimming the paper, looking carefully for my home. Powder’s eyes glued to my hand. Finally, I saw the city and left my finger on the spot.

“Here,” I murmured, peeking over to her to watch her expression.

“Wow,” she breathed in amazement. “That’s pretty far.”

I nodded, feeling a slight smile tug on my lips as I ignored the aching hole in my chest. “It is.”

“Well, how did you get here?” She asked, plopping back down on the couch and eyeing me curiously.

I swallowed at the question. Was magic banned here like how it was in Demacia? I had to admit, I wasn’t too keen on Zaun politics, and even though Powder was a child, Vander was not. He was listening intently to everything we were saying so I had to be smart about this.

“I…came in from a ship.” I lied. It felt weird lying. It wasn’t something I have ever had to do, but it shocked me at just how good at it I was.

Powder seemed to mull this over, glancing briefly at the map before looking at me with hesitation. “You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“We don’t do trade with Demacia. When we do, it’s for the black market and one of those ships hasn’t come in months.”

I scoffed in amazement, feeling my mouth gape. Outsmarted by a kid from Zaun. Not a day I thought I would ever see. I still felt shame from my lie, though. She seemed a bit hurt by it and it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Powder,” Vander said. “She’s had a long day. Why don’t you give her and I a chance to talk, hm?”

She looked at me with uncertainty before turning her gaze back to Vander and nodding. As she got up, I gently grabbed her hand to get her attention.

“I…I’m sorry for lying. I hope you can forgive me, Powder.”

I hoped she would understand. I found comfort in knowing that she and I have gone through similar things. That I wasn’t alone in this. I didn’t want her to think less of me just because I wasn’t capable of telling her - or myself - what happened.

She nodded much to my relief and smiled softly. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t tell me, either.”

I chuckled and released her hand, watching as she ascended the steps and gently shut the door behind her.

“I understand if you don’t want to tell me anything. You don’t have to, but I do need to know where I can take you. Surely someone is looking for you right now.” Vander murmured, leaning forward until his elbows met his knees.

I bit my lip as I stared at the floor. No, there is not anyone looking for me. I doubt that the Demacian guard cares about the daughter of an inventor who is dead. I had no other family alive and no friends. Nothing to go to. No one to turn to.

“You don’t, do you?” He asked softly. I looked up at him with pleading eyes once more, begging him to understand. I couldn’t possibly say it out loud. His features washed over with an understanding sadness that made me want to cry. Did I truly look so pathetic? Tears stained my cheeks as I looked at him, my bottom lip trembling and I felt the overwhelming urge to scream at how unfair the world was.

After a beat, he stood up and walked over to me, sitting on the couch next to me and opening his arms. With the fire illuminating his features, he appeared to be an older man. A man who has seen and done things he wasn’t proud of. I eyed him wearily before deciding that I didn’t care. If I died, I would be with my family, if I didn’t, I would get temporary relief from this gaping hole in my chest.

I jumped into his arms and felt a sob take hold of my body as he enclosed me in what I could only describe as a fatherly hug. The kind that made you feel safe and warm and that nothing could hurt you while you were there. I knew that feeling because that’s how it felt when my father hugged me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He whispered to me over and over again, but I couldn’t believe him. How could anything be okay when they were gone? Nothing would ever be okay again. Not while I still lived and breathed and they didn’t. It wasn’t fair. We were a family. We were supposed to do everything together. United.

Now, here I am, crying in the arms of a stranger in a strange place with strange people. All because my family wasn’t here anymore.

“Hey,” he said, pulling back to look at me, keeping a large hand on my shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you need to. It may not be what you’re used to, but our home is welcome to you.”

“I - I couldn’t possibly-“ I gasped between sobs.

“I am not a perfect man, but I was raised that if you see someone in need of help and you can help them, that’s what you do. So, that’s what I do.” His eyes flickered with determination. “Before you argue, you should know that my girls get their stubbornness from me.”

I laughed at that, gratitude filling me as I looked into his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Vander.” I whispered, nodding.

He pulled me into his arms again. “Whatever you need.”

I cried for a while in Vander’s arms until I felt the exhaustion take hold of me once more and the world faded to black.

#reading #writing #fanfic #ao3 #viktor #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #arcane viktor #slow burn #arcane

19 notes · View notes

blacklightwriter · 5 months ago

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ - ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ: ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ

Story Summary: EXTREME SLOW BURN. A woman from war-torn Demacia is transported to Zaun, where she makes ends meet. Her skills in inventing catch the attention of a Piltovan, who extends a full ride through Piltover Academy, which she accepts. Here, her adventure begins. Content Warning: Violence, war. Word Count: 1,9k Author's Note: Here is the prologue for the Viktor fic I've been working on for years now. This story was written BEFORE season two of Arcane, so keep that in mind. I'm new to writing fanfic and what is expected when introducing a story, so if there's something more you'd like to see, please let me know. Enjoy and thanks for reading! Find me on Ao3!

I have always imagined that my life was intimately entwined with the idea of peace, It always seemed wrong to me that people were constantly at odds with one another. What could they possibly take from each other? What caused that burning hatred in them to make them want to commit such heinous acts in the name of victory? Revenge? Ideas of war were always lost on me.

Growing up in Demacia, my family knew war. The battle-ridden kingdom seemed constantly at odds whether it was from invaders from outside or conspirers from within. My mother and father did what they could to protect me from the costs of war the best they could, but even they knew that at some point the veil would be ripped and I would need to see the world for what it was.

My mother was a gentle soul. She spent her days showing me how to sew and the best way to heal wounds, often telling me stories of valor from her time on the battlefield helping the wounded. Other times telling me the consequences of war with a distant look on her face. She told me how she had to amputate a child’s arm because he would die if she didn’t.

I often wondered if that was why I would sometimes hear her scream in the middle of the night.

My father was an inventor and a damn good one. He worked for the king to help find ways to improve the lives of everyday Demacians. The food plow that would collect, wash, and store food? That was him. His idea. When the king took an interest in it, my father insisted that every farmer of Demacia be given one. Other territories could pay for it, but Demacians were who it was built for. The King agreed and ever since then, our family had been regarded highly. We were able to live in the main city if we wanted to, but my mother felt uneasy about it. So, we lived in a small cottage just outside its walls in the Silent Forest.

I spent many hot summers staying with my father in our back shed - his workshop. He taught me everything he possibly could and planted a love for science in me.

“We have the possibility to change anything we want to, vita mea.” He said, his nose wrinkling in displeasure at the contraption before him. “As inventors, our duty is to make the world a better place.”

He fiddled with his tools, moving them expertly across the machine until a satisfying click came and the machine began humming. He smiled, turning a warm gaze to me.

“I don’t ever want you to forget that. This world can be cruel and relentless, but we must strive to do the right thing. Always.”

My mother would always yell at us when the sun set and the trees began tittering with the life of the forest animals around us. Those nights were the best memories I have. Coming home from school and seeing my father and mother in the kitchen preparing dinner, laughing, and being in love. Despite the tension in our flawed kingdom, my parents had hope and remained steadfast that the same peace we had in our home was attainable to Demacia.

But, like most dreams, we had to wake up eventually.

When the King died, we all mourned. Not only for the loss but for the end of an era. People were unsure what would happen now. There were already talks of the noble families saying the King’s son, Jarvan, wasn’t fit to rule. This made Jarvan tense and he sought out my father, demanding that he make weapons to defend the Great City from the war he knew was coming.

Despite my father knowing his duty as a Demacian citizen, he also knew he had a duty to his family. Building weapons of war would put a mark on our backs and since we weren’t in the protected main city, it was too big of a risk. So, my father said no.

This angered the new king, no doubt out of fear of losing his newly gained title, and he demanded my father do his bidding or he and his family be put to death. War had found our small slice of peace, and my father made a choice.

He came home that day crying, I remember, a mysterious man shrouded in a dark cloak to his side. He and my mother spoke tearfully. He hugged my mother as she sobbed loudly. Finally, they came to me, telling me what had happened and how it was time for me to say goodbye to Demacia.

“This man is a magician, Vannah. He will take you somewhere far away from here. Somewhere you will be safe.” He explained, packing things for me frantically. There wasn’t much time.

The panic hadn’t set in yet, nor the realization that this would be my final moments with my family. I think about it a lot. Most of the time with a tinge of regret.

“Magicians aren’t supposed to do magic here, though, pater.” I said, my eyebrows pinching in confusion. “They can’t even do magic because of all the petricite, I thought.”

“I can only do one of you.” The man said with indifference, his dark figure looming in the corner.

“Wait, one of us? As in…?”

My whole world began shattering. My home, my family, my life. All of it was slipping through my fingers. Just an hour ago I was sitting in a chair across from my mother, reading her my favorite play, joking with her about how I was going to be a famous actress one day.

My father whirled at me, placing his hands firmly on my shoulders, his face contorted with sorrow. “There is no time, vita mea. We must pack.”

I stepped away from his grip, shaking my head, feeling the tears forming. “No! No! I will not leave! You can not ask me to leave!”

My mother stepped forward, tears falling freely down her face, her arms wrapping around me tightly. “We aren’t asking, lux mea.”

I began sobbing, hearing my father continue to pack as my mother and I held each other, engraining our touch into each other’s minds so we would never forget. I felt her tears dampen my hair and she gingerly ran her hands up and down my back in a poor attempt to soothe me.

She pulled away a little to look at my face when my father stepped over to us, moving my hair out of my face and placing a kiss on my forehead.

“I want you to have something, Vannah.” My father said, sticking his hand in his shirt and pulling out his necklace of petricite. He had gotten it as a gift from the previous king for his service to Demacia. A proud reminder to him of what happens when you do the right thing.

He pulled the necklace from around his neck and placed it softly around mine, the stone feeling too heavy on me. Like it didn’t belong there. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him so our foreheads touched, his eyes glassy with sorrow.

“Remember what we have taught you, vita mea. The world will do what it can to tear you down, but we must work to make it a better place. Whenever you doubt that you will look at this,” He pulled up the stone, revealing a protection rune carved into its surface. “And you will remember.”

“I don’t want to leave you, pater.” I whispered.

“You won’t. Not now. Not ever. And we will never leave you. We will be with you now and forever.” He pulled my mother and I into a tight hug, both of them whispering hushed goodbyes and I love you, but the hole in my heart had begun forming. For a brief and horrifying second, I understood how people gained that burning hatred for one another, but I pushed that thought aside.

“They are coming.” The magician whispered, moving to the center of the room and pulling out shimmering blue crystals.

My mother and father pulled from me, handing me my bag of what I could take from my home and my heart shattered at the loss of their warmth.

My father gently took my cheek in his hands, wiping away my tears, a sad smile on his lips. Suddenly a burst of wind and a glowing blue light erupted from the middle of the room. I turned and saw a blue circle of light. Loud knocks were coming from the front door.

“What’s going on in there! Open the door this instant!” A voice from the other side called.

Thunderous wind roared through the room as the portal pushed everything in the room to the walls, breaking the windows in the cottage. Screams could be heard from outside.

“You must come! Now!” The magician yelled, stepping through the circle of light and disappearing.

“Go.” My father said, his hand dropping from my face as he and my mother rushed to the door, pushing all their weight on it to keep whoever was outside from coming in.

I nodded, looking fearfully at the booming and breaking door. I took careful steps back, never once facing the portal, only facing my parents.

As I was mere steps away from the portal, the door burst open, and Demacian guards rushed in, immediately pushing my mother and father to the ground.

“Go, Vannah!” My father yelled, gesturing wildly as a guard grabbed his arms viciously.

“Using magic, eh, scientist? Traitor!” The guard yelled, raising his sword up above my father.

“No!” I tried to run towards them, but I felt a hand grab my wrist and pull me back towards the portal, blue light engulfing me as I watched the sword plunge into my dad’s back.

Suddenly, the light was gone. All light. A terrible smell filled my lungs, but not enough air. I collapsed on the ground as my lungs burned, gasping and coughing for air.

“I would suggest getting used to it, kid.” The magician taunted, his small form bending down in front of me, a smug smirk on his face.

“Wh-Where am I?” I gasped, clutching at my throat. I looked around hoping to find something familiar, but all I could see was a grey haze.

People who were around us glared at us with threatening sneers. Crumbling buildings stood low to the ground and there wasn’t a sky, just more grey haze.

“Your pops wanted you somewhere safe. There’s no place safer than here. Welcome to Zaun, kid.”

I coughed, my mind having a hard time forming a coherent thought from the lack of oxygen. “Z-Zaun?”

“He wanted Piltover, but he couldn’t afford it.” The man said with a shrug, standing up straight. “I’m sorry for your loss, kid.”

With that, he turned on his heels and began walking away.

“W-Wait!” I called, coughing once more, tears streaming from my eyes as my lungs burned.

He let out an annoyed sigh and turned to face me, his eyebrows raised in frustration. “What?”

“What am I supposed to do now?” I whimpered, black spots dabbling my vision.

“How am I supposed to know? Your dad paid me to get you here, not escort you around. You’re old enough to figure it out yourself, so do it.”

I didn’t have it in me to argue. I clutched at my throat, hoping the air would miraculously appear. Black spots started filling my vision and soon, the world faded into nothingness.

#reading #ao3 #fanfic #writing #slow burn #arcane #viktor #viktor arcane #arcane viktor

23 notes · View notes