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hexcorenova · 2 months ago

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The end is the beginning (1/2)

DISCLAIMER

this is a work of fiction. it shouldn't be taken too seriously, it's just my interpretation of an alternate story, written for fun. no claims to canon, just a desire to explore and tell a story. also, i'm not a writer, and english is not my first language, but i'm trying my best. this isn't really a fanfiction but more of a structured summary and missing moments to help piece together of what happened in the AU with old viktor. also, i admit i didn’t expect this to become so long. It really got out of hand!

Jayce has never seen anything like this.

Below him, Piltover and Zaun are dead. The city is a landscape of crystallized statues, frozen in the exact moment disaster struck. The streets are filled with bodies caught mid-action, mouths open in a scream that never faded, hands reaching for something they never grasped. And yet, here, at the top of the Hexgate, time is not dead.

Jayce, after falling to his knees, looks up. The sky here is clear, a deep, unwavering blue. The air is warmer, free from the suffocating weight of stagnation that looms over the rest of the city. And around him, on the dark iron slabs of the platform, there is life.

The Hexgate has become a garden.

Plants climb up the metal structures, the wind stirs the thin branches of small shrubs that shouldn’t exist in a condemned world. Violet and yellow flowers bloom through cracks in the iron, golden moss spreads in luminous streaks along the beams. And at the center of it all, stands Viktor.

He moves slowly along the Hexgate’s perimeter, his cane brushing against the metallic surface with a rhythmic, hypnotic sound. At first, he doesn’t even seem to notice Jayce. His long, slender fingers glide along the trunk of a curved branch, his touch light, almost reverent.

"Strange, isn’t it?" he murmurs finally. Jayce remains still. He says nothing. "I never imagined it would grow like this." He’s talking about the garden. Or at least, Jayce thinks so.

"Why?" Jayce finally asks, his voice tense. "Why only here?"

Viktor barely smiles, a faint shadow of something that might be nostalgia.

"Perhaps because of you." he says it while looking at Jayce’s petrified form, standing just a few steps away. The carcass is right there in front of them. His hands still grip the Hextech hammer, his body stiff, but there is no fear on his face. Only determination. Resolve.

Jayce feels a shiver run down his spine. He has seen impossible things, but seeing himself dead, trapped in time, is something he cannot explain. And Viktor, the real Viktor, the one who has lived through all of this, does not look away.

"You’ve done this before, haven’t you?" Jayce’s voice is rougher than he intended.

Viktor slowly closes his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly. His fingers brush against the statue’s rough surface, tracing the contours of the face as if trying to memorize every detail.

"Every time I try to fix things, it ends the same way."

Jayce takes a slow breath, as if gathering all the oxygen left in this dying world. Then, he grips his left wrist, holding onto the object wrapped around his skin. A bracelet, once polished, now worn by time. Embedded at its center, a small blue rune glistens under the motionless sky.

Viktor notices it and finally turns to look at him.

"Why did you give it to me?" Jayce stares into his eyes. He does not ask out of pity or anger. He asks because he needs to know.

Viktor does not respond immediately. His iridescent eyes shimmer under the sunlight, reflecting a million shifting shades. But the moment his gaze lands on the bracelet, something happens.

Viktor's eyes turn golden again. A warm, vivid color. Too human. Too full of emotion. Jayce never realized how much he had missed seeing them like that.

Viktor slowly lowers his gaze to the rune, then to his own hands, as if seeing something he lost long ago. His breath weakens. It seems like he wants to answer immediately, to explain everything at once. But then he stops.

"I thought I could bring an end to the world’s suffering." Jayce remains motionless. "But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude." there is no anger in his words. Only the unshakable weight of truth. "There is no prize to perfection, Jayce. Only an end to pursuit." Jayce slowly lowers the bracelet. This is not the answer he wanted. But he no longer even knows what he wanted to hear. "In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this." his voice is calm, heavy.

Jayce feels his breath catch in his chest. "Show you what?"

"That there's beauty in imperfection." this time, Viktor truly looks at him. And for the first time, Jayce wonders if it is already too late.

"This is our last chance, isn’t it?"

Viktor observes him for a long moment. An instant that feels eternal. Then, he smiles. But in a very sad way. "You deserve to know what happened." Viktor makes a small movement with his hand, almost absentmindedly, as he speaks.

Jayce closes his eyes for a moment. And when he opens them again, he is already teleported somewhere else.

---

For a moment, the light blinds him. His mind wavers, his body feels rigid, suspended between present and past. The air around him is dense, warm, as if reality itself is breathing. But he is no longer on the Hexgate. He is watching. He doesn’t know how he got here or if his body ever truly crossed a physical threshold. Yet, he finds himself immersed in another time, another place. He is no longer a spectator of the end.

Now, he is a spectator of the beginning of the Commune who stands around him, alive, thriving. There is no death here. No ruins, no broken statues. Not yet. The structures are tall, slender, built with an architecture that is neither Piltover nor Zaun but a perfect hybrid of the two. Glass, metal, and roots intertwine, technology fuses with nature. Streets illuminated by pure energy weave through the city like arteries in a living organism. People walk without fear, without hurry, immersed in an unnatural calm.

Jayce takes a slow breath. He is not really here. The ground beneath his feet is solid, yet intangible. When he reaches out to touch something, his hand passes through it like a shadow. But it is real. Everything is real. And at the center of the main square, stands Viktor. Jayce recognizes him immediately.

This is not the Viktor he left behind on the Hexgate, worn down by years and regrets. This is not even the Viktor he knew in Piltover’s laboratories. This Viktor is young. No longer sick, no longer weighed down by his condition. He moves with a cane but doesn't need it, his body slender but steady, draped in a long blue shawl that brushes the ground. And his iridescent eyes, those eyes that have not yet seen the future. He moves gracefully among the gathered crowd, his face illuminated by an inner light that Jayce hasn’t seen in years. Here, in this moment, Viktor is not just a man. He is a prophet.

Jayce watches as he steps onto a floating platform, the crowd silent around him. Every face turned toward him with devotion—not with fanaticism, but with something else. Hope.

"Piltover reduced you to numbers. Zaun abandoned you to die. I want to free you." Viktor’s voice rings clear, strong. Jayce shivers. He has never heard Viktor speak like this. The crowd murmurs, people press closer to one another. Some nod, others remain still, uncertain. But all of them listen. Because Viktor knows how to speak. He knows how to convince. "I don't ask you to obey me. I ask you to believe in something greater, an evolution."

Jayce clenches his fists, his gaze fixed on the scene. He is looking for a sign. He is trying to understand if this is happening in his world too, if this Viktor is the same Viktor he knows. He does not know what to expect. He does not know where this story diverges, when they will become two men who can no longer stand on the same side.

"This is your new home. A place where no one will be left behind, where no one will be forgotten."

Jayce forces himself to look away from Viktor and at the crowd. He sees their faces. Normal people. Zaunites fleeing oppression. Piltovans who renounced their city for something better. Young, old, sick, outcasts.

Time moves forward, not in great, sweeping events, but in subtle changes, the kind that creep in unnoticed until they settle in place like they’ve always been there. Months pass, and then he sees himself. He does not expect it.

His younger self steps into the Commune as an outsider, dressed in Piltover’s refined clothing but with the disheveled look of someone who has stopped caring for himself. He stands out against the world around him. His expression is full of distrust, calculation. Someone must have convinced to be here.

Jayce, looking at himself, holds his breath. He does not remember living this moment. He does not know what is about to happen. How many times has he told himself, that he would never come looking for Viktor? Yet, here he is.

Viktor notices him immediately. And he smiles. "Jayce…"

Jayce’s heartbeat quickens. Viktor approaches him with calm strides. There is no hostility in his gaze, no wariness, only absolute trust and the desire to share this moment with him. "I knew you would come."

Jayce watches the scene with his lips pressed together. He still does not know if this is his past. He does not know if this is another world, another possibility, a path Viktor walked without him, but he wants to know where it all breaks. And now he is forced to watch.

The vision shifts again. Jayce is no longer standing in one place. The Commune unfolds before him, time moving forward like a fast-forwarded memory. Days. Weeks, again months. Jayce watches his past self become part of the Commune. He sees himself talking to the inhabitants, working alongside Viktor, immersing himself in the construction of this dream. And slowly, the suspicion in his gaze fades. Conviction takes its place. The Commune is real. It works.

Here, people do not get sick, do not suffer, do not fear. There is no hierarchy, only something new, something that Viktor built with his own hands. A place where no one is abandoned.

Jayce watches as his trust in Viktor rebuilds itself. They are partners again, as they once were. They work, argue, challenge each other, and complement one another, just like in the laboratories of Piltover. It is so easy, so natural, that the present Jayce feels a tightness in his chest.

When did it all fall apart? He waits for the answer.

And then, something changes. Jayce notices a small, imperceptible detail at first. The people of the Commune no longer disagree. Ideas are no longer debated. Opinions never truly diverge. Every conversation, every thought, moves in a single direction: Viktor’s. At first, younger Jayce does not notice, neither does present Jayce; until he sees his younger self hesitate. A look exchanged in silence.

Viktor speaks to a group, explaining a new theory about Arcane energy. Jayce stands beside him, nodding. But he is not convinced. It is not an immediate realization, but it is a crack in the perfect surface of the Commune. And that is how it begins.

Jayce watches himself grow quieter. He sees the way he starts looking at people differently. The change is gradual, subtle. At first, it’s just a shadow of doubt, then it becomes a certainty, and finally, a fear. There is something Viktor is not telling him.

Jayce spectator feels his pulse quicken. The moment is coming. He is about to see where everything breaks. And then, it happens.

Jayce watches as his younger self walks into the Commune’s greenhouse. Viktor is there, seated on a stone bench, his gaze fixed on a plant he's tending to. The space is filled with warmth, light filtering through the glass ceiling, reflecting on the leaves of vines that have grown too thick to be natural. Jayce stands there for a moment, watching him in silence. Viktor doesn’t seem surprised to see him.

"You had a realization, didn’t you?" Viktor finally says, not even lifting his head. Jayce clenches his fists.

"It’s not a realization. It’s the truth." this time, Viktor looks at him. His iridescent eyes shimmer under the light, but they do not hold the same certainty they once did. Jayce takes a step closer. "The Commune isn't a dream, Viktor." his voice is firm but not harsh, just exhausted.

"Then what is it?" Viktor asks, finally setting down the tools in his hands.

Jayce swallows. "Another utopia that’s consuming us both." a long silence stretches between them. Then, Viktor smiles. But not in the way he used to. It is a sad smile.

"I knew you’d reach this conclusion. Sooner or later."

Jayce spectator feels his breath catch. He finally understands. This is the separation. There was no sudden catastrophe. No betrayal, no violent rupture. Just a truth that Viktor had always known and that Jayce had taken too long to see. The Commune is no longer a place of free will. Maybe it never was.

People aren’t Viktor’s slaves, but they are prisoners. And he, the one who built all of this with his own hands, never intended to stop himself.

Jayce spectator feels a hollow emptiness settle in his chest. His younger self looks Viktor in the eyes. And for the first time, Viktor looks away.

"I'm sorry, Jayce."

Jayce’s fingers tighten into fists.

"No. You’re not."

The world shatters around him. The vision fractures. The images blur, the Commune twists in on itself, faces dissolve, structures deform. The past is rejecting him. Jayce staggers back, his breath uneven. He's being pulled away. But before everything vanishes, Viktor looks up. For an instant, it feels like he truly sees him. Not the Jayce of the past.

HIM.

And Viktor smiles.

"Welcome back, Jayce."

that's all for now. i've actually written a bit more beyond this point, but i'm not entirely sure if i managed to make things clear or easy to follow, so I think i’ll wait for some feedback before continuing. i ended up choosing a more narrative way to tell this story because o thought it might be easier to understand that way, but who knows. thanks for reading if you made it this far!

#arcane #jayvik #league of legends #jayce talis #vikjay #viktor arcane #jayce x viktor #jayce arcane #AU theory #old viktor #mage viktor

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