Chapter Text
Getting where you were now had been certainly difficult.
Zaun was not gentle with anyone, especially children.
Less with deformed infants.
Remembering those years was bittersweet, nostalgic of course, but never less painful. The streets were always some shade of darkness, which you actually appreciated at some point in your life, with the smell of smoke always present, lots of people always smoking; not always nicotine, constants disputes between people or between people and enforcers, but surviving was a different thing, one that one could only get used to by having lived through it, or having seen others do it.
Something you witnessed quite a lot.
You were born from a young brothel worker, not exactly a bad woman, considering what you had seen over time, but a cold one who hated you, even if that wasn't exactly new to know.
It was not a really well-known brothel, considering that you lived in a place full of fights rather than sin, although the smell of sweat and disgust was something you had reluctantly become used to, having to learn to clean so that the guy who ran the place would at least let you stay in one of the closets with cleaning supplies so you wouldn't have to sleep on the streets when your mother push you away from her as soon as you proved that you learned to read, speak, and finally no longer fell or swayed on your feet when you walked.
Of course, and despite the patience she had with you, all of that was even more difficult because of how covered she always had you.
From head to toe you were always covered with cloth, sometimes thick or thin, or stained, full of that smell that you repulsed, that she would throw at you when you came close without having been covered, having learned not to look at her because of the faces she made when she saw your eyes.
Even so, you were grateful that she fed you and didn't throw you out onto the street, probably knowing that you wouldn't survive the night.
After all, people were not warm to the ones who were different.
Being born an albino was a torn and burned card that was handed to you at birth.
At least being born a boy give you a small advantage, or at least it removed a disadvantage, making that at least that man who employed your mother couldn't do the same to you, you were grateful not to have to work there as well as you had seen some girls with nothing outside the brothel, nothing for themselves on the streets, working to support themselves or their families.
Something you understood a few years later.
That your mother became pregnant again by one of her clients was not a surprise, you were almost ten when your mother finally stopped hiding her new child from you, a little girl who could already crawl with rosy skin, brown hair and blue eyes too grey for a baby.
She was normal, completely and utterly adorable.
For once in your young years you undertand that the affection, the love, that you sometimes saw in children who were not lucky enough to be off the streets, was really strong..
So strong that it gave you the courage to leave.
You were not stupid, you had seen and heard the girls who worked in that old place stinking of sweat, never older than teenagers, crying, suffering for what they had to sacrifice in order not to go hungry and to have a place to sleep that wasn't abandoned places or walls of dark alleys; their bodies.
Apart from your mother, you had nothing of your own, so you knew exactly what would be expected of your little sister as soon as she reached a certain age: they would make her work.
You could never expect good work from a place like that kind of brothel.
You saved money while she was growing up, years of selling trinkets; some found, some made, or in worst cases, stolen.
You knew it wasn't a good thing, you had seen teenagers and adults getting beaten up for it, but one had to do what was necessary, surviving was the first of your needs.
It was thus that some years later, as a pre-adolescent, you left with a little girl in your arms, never to look back at that sparsely populated area that had been your house for too long. You never dared to call it “home,” that old brothel would never be a home.
Surviving in the most populated area of the city was a new challenge that fortunately you got used to before your savings became scarce, although, of course, in a more populated place the money that trinkets gave you was less, so you learned to do other things with time.
Thanks to a cookbook you saw sticking out in a stall and stole without anyone noticing you learn easily to cook, thanks to see others you learn to fix some things, mainly somewhat more complex technology, and finally: Painting.
You heard your mother many years ago talking about that her work was a kind of art, but you didn't think that the unpleasant smell of sweat, the sound of skin against skin and the stuttering voices could compare to the landscapes and colorful pieces, shapes and people that you shaped on paper. You started small; doing some portraits in the squares, drawing dead parners, pets or relatives for some drunks who gave you good money when you asked for it (you always charged them more), and those guys who needed some color in bars or the walls of their shops.
It wasn't the easiest thing to always work covering yourself, keeping your appearance hidden even from your little sister, but it was an excellent opportunity that you welcomed with open arms, earning and working until your legs were tingling and there was paint of every color under your nails, but you didn't complain, it gave you money that you used to bring food to you and your sister, keeping both as well fed and healthy as you could, it was a simple, repetitive, but good life.
Of course, until life decided to show you again where you lived and your little sister got sick.
Not a simple illness, you realized that after a week of her still bedridden, you realized that again as she started puking and coughing up violently, with the fever burning her body as she cried and complained under the sheets in which you had her because of how low her temperature was despite how warm she felt.
A lung problem, was what the guy you paid to help your little sister told you, leaving your small home with your sister coughing her lungs out in your ears. "You should say goodbye", was what he replied when you looked at him as he left.
A week later it broke your heart to find her cold in your arms, both of you curled up together like you had been sleeping with her until the pain and the fever made her lose against the disease.
You took your things and left that place where you no longer had connections, her body wrapped in soft fabrics, dressed in a beautiful dress that she was not able to wear for her birthday, resting in the common grave due to having no other place to leave her body.
Undercity became nothing to you as soon as you left, sneaking through the bridge to the streets of Piltover, with some stolen clothes of the quality that only Piltover had, enough to go unnoticed before starting to work; Sitting in the square with an easel, ready to paint the people passing by, a new beginning was something you never expected.
And, despite the sadness, you smiled slightly under your hood at the person who sat down before starting to paint.
You wanted to live.
Even if it wasn't for you, you repeated to yourself over and over that you would do it for your sister, ignoring the tears before keep going forward.
Because it was the only thing you really knew how to do.
"You're going to be late".
Despite the grumpy voice urging you on, you didn't move any faster as you tied your tie and straightened your vest, checking to make sure the tail of the vest were neat before straightening your hair, without doing much more than brushing it, letting the unusual long hair flow down your back, knowing that it would make you look elegant anyway. A smile grew on your lips as you heard her complain behind your back again, growling as you knew she was covering her face with her hands.
"You're going to be late!" She repeated insistently, you looked at her reflection in the mirror with amusement.
"I will arrive at the same time as all the other guests, what I am".
She groan again, seeming to doubt whether pulling your hair out of anger would get her fired. "Guest of honor it's not the same!"
"That's still a guest".
She whine like a child as your smile only grew.
Amused, you finally turned away from the mirror a few moments later, turning to look at Belle, a Piltovian years younger than you who worked as your assistant, although she didn't seem all that excited about being one.
With the amount of work you did your popularity also increased over time, being a good self-taught artist brought you more work, which of course brought with it more money, becoming quite famous in Piltover over the years, which brought about talk of you even within the academy, or so Belle told you, she studied there so you just took her word for it when she said that the big mural you commissioned on one of the streets was on the lips of quite a few even at the academy; a building that seemed to almost never rest, always inventing, progressing, with a perseverance that seemed beautiful to you.
The arts were the easiest to learn, or at least that's how you felt, although maybe you had always had that artistic vein in you, you made sure to improve in every art available to you, from those that used paper, pencil and brushes to those that bond with the marble and chisel. You even got involved with music, not as heavily as with the other arts of course, music wasn't exactly your favorite art, but being adaptable to whatever that was thrown at you brought with it more job opportunities, and with it, money.
An artist's popularity came with its work after all, it didn't matter how good you were if you weren't well known, the image the public had of you always mattered if part of your work was to constantly interact with it.
And you were working all the time.
With a low sigh you caressed your vest, running your fingers over the gold embroidery and small purple details that you wore this afternoon, long-sleeved white shirt with cufflinks that were white flowers, white pants and perfectly polished black shoes, all wrinkle-free and comfortable against your skin.
Belle approached you from the side with darker fabric in her hands, looking at you fondly, as you often found her looking at you, although never with that feeling that you had seen many times, innocent and warm, that affection was the replacement for the heat of the sun to which you rarely exposed yourself.
Being born deep in the undercity, emerging from there and still being unable to enjoy the sun and the sky in all its splendor almost seemed like a curse, a punishment for a sin that still chained you to darkness.
The soft touch on your hands woke you from your reverie, looking up into brown eyes and that warm smile as Belle lifted your hands, helping you put on your gloves; black fabric with embroidery in golden that protected your skin from the sun, a hat with veil of the same blackout fabric was the next thing she helped you put on.
It was a slightly shorter veil than you had seen on some brides, flowing from the hat to your upper back, slightly hiding your face behind the dark fabric, making the sun not shine directly on you and, as Belle always said, making you look ethereal, almost untouchable, unnatural.
You always tensed at that last word so she didn't usually say it, although she always accompanied you to make sure you didn't look bad, In the end, she was the one who made you get used to the elegant clothes and the style you wore everytime you went out, it was thanks to her that you became even more famous for the way in which, and according to her, many women were enchanted by your appearance at the few celebrations you attended outside of meeting people for commissions and such.
You didn't always believe her, although of course there was no point in doubting her considering you weren't the young female adult knowing about current fashion and trends here.
"Keep your back straight, fool", She spanked slightly hard your back, making you stand up straight because of the slight sting that makes you resist rubbing or lifting your hand to touch, knowing that the lace fabric of your gloves was going to pull at your hair if you touched it. "This time stay close, I can't save you from socializing if you leave me alone!", She reminded you, still salty from that time you walked away from her and left her wandering around a party because you snuck off to a quieter part.
"I won't do that anymore, you know that," you complained.
"I know, but it's better to keep it in that empty head of yours".
"It's not empty.."
She snorted as she fixed her own clothes; a long dress with details in gold, but all dark, complementing you but not standing out more than your almost completely white and shiny clothes, You had told her quite a bit that it wasn't necessary but she insisted so much that you couldn't refuse, letting her decide your style, not caring about how close she had become to you through time, so close that you almost felt like family.
She beckoned you over before leading you out of your studio, which was also your house, both of you finally deciding to head off to the party, a celebration of progress, although not exactly Progress day itself but the progress of the arts. In recent years, art improved and spread, all kinds of art had given a social boom, from construction, technology, painting, sculpture and others such as music and dance.
It was an honor that you were invited to such a celebration, even more so knowing that, as organizers of the great event bathed in gold, the members of Piltover's council were going to be invited.
The drive there was the most stressful, looking out the windows on your way trying to put your attention on something else, something you sadly failed at.
The great hall in front of you was something you never expected to see with your own eyes, enthralled with the way the gothic structure, surely owned by the Kirammans, made the slowly setting sun give off a beautiful golden and orange glow over the place. Everything filled with warm colors, including the guests you could see entering.
Belle hugged your arm, crossing your arm with hers, looking at you and smiling before pulling you in to finally enter.
You walked in calmly with your assistant at your side, to your surprise, all nearby gazes ended up on you.
It didn't really surprise you, considering you were dressed all in white with zero skin exposed by the black lace hiding your sickly pale skin, you must have looked out of place, the other young men were not dressed like you, which made you stand out, being tall didn't help at all. You stood out like a sore thumb among the warm-dressed guests, all dressed in dull colors, black and white on you, with the small details in gold being the exception.
At least you weren't the only one wearing white.
Near one of the tables with small snacks and glasses of champagne were two boys next to who you recognized as a member of the council, Heimerdinger, you thought. They were both different from each other, but both wore a white piece in their clothes, being a suit vest in both cases. The taller man with a vest that almost looked like a male corset, a shape you had gotten to try on yourself, while the other boy was simpler, although still elegant, quite tight, probably because of how slim you could see he was even from the distance.
You almost thought about going over and greeting the yordle who had invited you to such a celebration, but before you could even think about it a small crowd prevented you from even going straight, making you stop walking and in the midst of that holding your assistant closer to your side, who squeezed your arm slightly tighter with hers, giving you silent support when people, mainly women, began to greet and ask questions.
She made sure that they wouldn't completely intrude into your space, knowing that you were strongly uncomfortable having strangers too close to you but you hated even more showing that you were uncomfortable.
Luckily for you, the attention on you slowly diminished as other guests of honor, all artists, arrived at the party, the guests noticing that they weren't going to get anything out of you or be able to get any closer than was politely correct because of your boundaries, boundaries that your assistant enforced, perhaps a little too zealous in keeping you comfortable, but you were grateful for it.
You spent a few hours like that, quietly interacting with the social circle you had become forcibly accustomed to, Belle only left you for a few moments during the party, mainly to take some snaks that she knew or was interested in, she also brought glasses of champagne when she approached you again where you were talking to some casual acquaintances. Mainly past clients whose faces you recognized.
Only a little while later the music and dancing began, artists and guests who knew the steps creating a little show when the rhythm intensified and slowly the mood of the room became lively as the sun coming through the windows made the place shine golden, warm tones everywhere no matter where you looked. It was lovely to get lost watching the people dancing, hearing strangers laugh, the music and the sound of shoes and heels against the floor as background noise while you chatted quietly.
And yet you walked away from the dancing and the warmth of the sun.
You really wanted to enjoy yourself, really, but knowing what you had left behind and how you didn't belong near such warmth made you feel somewhat guilty, gloomy and not belonging where your shoes were on the clean floor.
You sighed, lacing your fingers together at your lower back, keeping your posture straight, as you walked over to one of the tables with the few snacks that were still left, calmly walking around the crowd, taking advantage of the opportunity to try more and maybe have another glass of champagne now that people were having fun dancing.
To your surprise you noticed one of those boys that you had seen before with that council as you approached, noticing him looking at the other one, you yourself looked sideways, seeing him dancing among the crowd with someone you didn't recognize, It wasn't really any of your business either. Instead you blinked at where your assistant was, laughing, spinning and dancing with some acquaintance of hers, just seeing her having fun made you glad you had insisted she get away from you so she could have fun, If you hadn't done it you were sure that she would have stayed by your side the whole time, you didn't want her job to be even more boring than it already was by having to practically chain herself to your side.
You took a fresh glass filled from the stem before bringing the lukewarm drink to your lips, slightly lifting the veil of your hat with your fingers so it wouldn't get in the way, huffing as you lower the glass, eyeing the snacks with disdain, ignoring the remaining ones so as not to stain or leave crumbs on your gloves.
"Isn't it disrespectful to wear a hat indoors?"
You glanced sideways at the voice that reached your ears, noticing that skinny guy in the white vest, sitting alone with his crutch between his legs since he wasn't using it, your gaze met his under the opaque veil, although you could see his face, having long been accustomed to seeing through the dark fabric.
You snorted at his bitter comment, apparently someone was angry, although of course you were also a little more subdued without your friend by your side, as seemed to be his case.
"Isn't it disrespectful to step into what doesn't concern you?"
Your returned bite made him snort, frowning slightly and looking forward again, you were amused to see him sulk when he saw that his comment hadn't affected you, muttering under his breath some things that you didn't bother to listen to when you saw some people walking away from the dance because of tiredness.
"Why the long face?", You decided to make peace, offering your olive branch playfully as calmly approaching until you were standing next to him, still not looking at him as your eyes remained on your smiling friend.
In your peripheral vision you saw him hesitate before speaking, hunching forward slightly with his crutch resting against his shoulder, staring tiredly, or perhaps bored, at the dancing crowd.
"My friend forced me to come, I wanted to continue working".
You snorted, amused because of how similar your situations were because you would absolutely have preferred to remain the hermit you were destined to be and stay in your studio to work.
"Well, now there are two of us", You laughed, raising your half-full glass slightly, smiling under your veil as you said, "Cheers for that."
You lifted the veil again as you drank the rest of your unpleasantly warm drink, you almost laugh as you watched him glance away from people to see if he could peek under the opaque veil without you noticing, but unfortunately for him, you noticed quite easy considering how many people had tried the same thing with you, you let the veil fall into place as you lowered the glass from your lips, stifling a chuckle as you heard him grumble.
"What's the hat for though?", he frowned and grimaced slightly, more curious as to why you were hiding your face than why you were actually wearing the hat. "Egotistical enough to think yourself irresistible?", this time both laughed at the bitter comment, noticeably a joke.
You shook your head, amused to even think that about yourself, the movement catching his attention before your voice did.
"I'm albino," the words felt a little bitter on your tongue, but you ignored it, "So sunlight isn't really good for my skin, I have to cover myself up so the light doesn't hit me directly, which includes my face".
He seemed surprised to hear you, turning slightly in his seat, looking with a mix of curiosity and surprise where your face was behind the dark fabric, although he could see the shape of your head from the soft light bouncing off the wall behind you, surely a somewhat confusing shadow from your long hair, he instead seemed fascinated, looking at you with his lips parted and his eyes wider than before, making the slight darkness under his eyes more pronounced, you almost found his surprised expression adorable.
"Can I see?"
You raised an eyebrow at that hint in his voice that you couldn't really place, but you were amused to see him realize that, a slight pink coming to his cheeks in embarrassment, though he still held your gaze. You admired persistent people, even if they always threatened to get on your nerves, but you gave him one thing in his favor, he was cute.
You looked out at the dancing people for a moment, something he must have noticed from the movement of your hat and the cloth on your shoulders, he seemed almost discouraged, taking your movement as a refusal, you were amused to see him hunch further against his crutch. You looked at the crowd, finding your assistant in a corner talking calmly with that boy, you then looked out the windows, the place now seeming quieter because of the purple sky outside.
You sighed, drawing the attention of the boy next to you as you pulled at the fingers of your gloves to remove them, feeling momentarily shy as you remembered that you still had paint under your nails from a commission you had finished early, but with the boy's gaze on you you quickly shook off the embarrassment, removing only one of your gloves before using the same hand that held the glove to remove your hat, shaking your head slightly to make your hair fall down your back again, off your shoulders.
"Incredible.."
In your long years you had only met little amont of people who had said that word when they saw you, and yet never with such fascination, praises always revolved around how good your work was, the beauty of the images that with time and paint you brought to life on paper, never about your appearance, always focused on not showing you more than necessary. Instead, this boy's fascination was different, more sincere, though certainly not entirely because of your appearance as his eyes wandered noticeably over your face, you almost wanted to touch with your fingers where he was staring, golden eyes dancing across your pale skin, from your cheekbones across your nose all the way down to your chin, looking mesmerized by the way he seemed interested in the slight pink hue of your skin, of course, until he notice your eyes, intrigued by their color.
"Purple?"
Shame came back to you for a few moments, washing over you like a soft, calm wave that, despite its gentle intensity, left the sting of cold water. Your fingers tightening on the brim of the hat in your hand, blinking at the ground before meeting the gold of his eyes again.
However, before you could respond a familiar visual person approached the two of you, a short and dull red-headed councilor approached with a small creature on his heels, a poro, you thought you remembered, you never really cared to remember or investigate trivial things as creatures, but the poros had been adorable to look at, even if you weren't really that interested in those little balls of fur, they were certainly something interesting, adorable, almost as much as cats in your eyes, but you knew they were smarter than your assistant's tortoiseshell cat.
"councilor", you greeted, without putting your hat back on, happy to see that soon the only light in the place was the candles and lamps, also the chandelier.
The yordle said your name, with what you guessed was a smile under his mustache, seeming animated as he spoke. "I am glad to see that such a unique artist accepted my invitation to this ceremony, I was worried that this one invitation would be ignored again."
"Artist?"
You looked away for a moment, embarrassed by the memory, ignoring the murmur of the boy still sitting next to you, glancing sideways.
"I still sorry about that, Councilor, my mind was everywhere but where it should have been that year, it was chaotic.."
He waved his hand in the air, "it's in the past, it was also the year you created the Golden Utopia for me, so apologies are unnecessary."
Both shared a laugh, feeling warmer knowing that Heimerdinger's feelings hadn't changed despite the time, you would have felt terrible if that were the case because you still felt terribly sorry for having missed a celebration he had invited you to a couple of years ago, at that time your assistant was certainly more busy with getting into the academy, so you didn't really have much help managing so many things at the same time.
Between managing commission paperwork, meeting with buyers, and working on each painting, sculpture, and artwork, you didn't have time to review invitations or particular celebrations, and you didn't wanted to hire someone else to help you, it almost felt like you were replacing your assistant.
At least everything improved after she was accepted into the academy, so you didn't worry, you even celebrated with her for her acceptance into the academy.
To your surprise the boy nearby squeaked a soft "What?", before a cough made him bend over himself, coughing into his forearm. Heimerdinger reached over to lightly tap his shoulder as he coughed, you did the same, albeit on his upper back.
Only a few moments passed before he straightened up again, pushing you and Heimerdinger away from him.
"You were the one who created that painting in the professor's office? Professor, how I didn't knew about this? " He seemed surprised, looking at you for a moment before looking at Heimerdinger.
You partly understood and partly not the reason for his reaction, because you had never really bothered to sign your works beyond small details just to ensure they were yours if someone tried to resell them or fake that they had a painting of yours, but on the other hand you didn't understand why the surprise considering that it wasn't the only really large painting you had make, having in mind that you had even painted murals.
Although it certainly did its name justice.
Golden Utopia.
It was a long, and somewhat costly, process to make that painting, but to this day you were still fascinated by the memory of all the gold and warm colors you used for that painting, a dream city that Heimerdinger dreamed of, or perhaps a memory from long ago, but you never asked more personally about it while he gave you details of how he wanted the painting to look. It was quite expensive all the golden paint and gold foil you used considering the painting was really big, big enough to the point that you couldn't do that commission in your studio because you were worried you wouldn't be able to get the painting out without damaging it.
The time you spent creating it was also long, or long for a painting at least, sculptures naturally took time.
"There was no need to say it because you were no longer my assistant at that moment, Viktor", was heimerdinger's response, which seemed to make Viktor calm down at least a little while you chuckled beside him.
Luckily for you, there wasn't much else important in that conversation, just spending some quiet time with Viktor and Heimerdinger until the yordle walked away with the poro, or porofessor, following him, leaving you chatting quietly with Viktor, who seemed more curious to learn about the works you did upon learning that you were an artist; sculptures, murals and paintings, you also learned more about him, such as his profession and his creations. You were really surprised to find out that the new technology was partly his work.
You thought you saw him grow rosier and rosier the more praises you said at him.
It was some time later, with the night sky already outside that your assistant approached you at the same time that Viktor's acquaintance approached him, both of you introduced them to each other and between each other, apologizing when you realize you didn't introduced yourself earlier.
After that it was just a little more chatting between you, Belle, Jayce and Viktor before you left the party with your assistant just as the other guests began to do.
After saying goodbye you swore you feelt those golden eyes on your back the whole time.
You fell asleep abnormally late after that.