Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jayce absolutely hated the banquets. Well, that might have been a bit of an overstatement. It wasn’t that he had anything against them personally— the rich food, good music, and opportunity to spend time on the palace terraces made that too harsh of a statement. Really, he just disliked them by proxy, because he knew that Viktor despised them.

The crown prince avoided them like the plague, only allowing them when tradition dictated that they absolutely must happen. The constant barrage of diplomats, dignitaries, and overly flattering citizens were a headache that he would do just about anything to pass up. The chaotic events weren’t just a mild annoyance, either. For Jayce, each guest was a potential threat, and it was his duty to make sure that none of them presented any actual danger to Viktor. It wasn’t that he disliked his job— in fact, he loved it— but it was extremely tiring to be on high alert for six to seven hours straight, especially when a single slip-up could have horrifying consequences.

These thoughts were the ones running through Jayce’s mind as he let his gaze flicker from one painting to another on the wall opposite Viktor’s quarters. He had been getting ready for the last hour, and Jayce was almost completely sure that he was probably giving his poor attendants absolute hell for trying to pry him out of his normal day clothes. Viktor was exceptionally good at playing the part of the crown prince when he needed to, but these banquets were his biggest vice.

Jayce would know— from his position outside Viktor’s door, he witnessed every attendant that left the crown prince’s room, some of them more obviously upset than others. Jayce winced in sympathy as a female attendant left the room, noticeably red in the face as she carried her clearly rejected wares back to the seamstress. It didn’t help that anything Viktor wore needed to be specifically modified to fit around the multiple braces that he wore at all times.

Jayce decided to risk entering the fray, leaving his post outside the ornate door. It was unlikely to prove a significant security risk if he was actually with Viktor rather than outside his door. Besides, although he took his job extremely seriously, it was something of an inside joke between him and the crown prince that he was meant to protect people from Viktor, and not the other way around.

“How’s it going in here?” Jayce asked pleasantly, keeping his tone intentionally innocent. They both knew that he was fully aware of Viktor’s displeasure, but a little tact never hurt anyone. The crown prince in question was situated in the middle of the room in front of a full-length mirror, several attendants flitting around him as they held up different swaths of silk and fabric against his skin.

Viktor’s face was deceptively calm, but Jayce could tell from the rigid way in which he held himself and the slight flush across his chest and cheeks that he was not having a good time. In fact, the lovely pink undertone could have just been a feature of Viktor’s natural complexion, but Jayce couldn’t be too sure after only the half-a-second glance he let himself take.

Even though he had been Viktor’s personal guard for over half a decade now, he was never quite able to get over seeing him shirtless, and especially so when his brace was fashioned like a corset, wrapping snugly around his waist and highlighting the milky paleness of his skin all the more.

Viktor’s eyebrows twitched slightly at Jayce’s question, but he didn’t betray anything else in his tone when he answered with a measured, “quite well, thank you.” It was the formality of his words that had a smile playing at the edge of Jayce’s mouth. Gods knew that Viktor was never that polite to him when they were alone, but right now they were both required to play the parts of prince and guard.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jayce replied easily, his gaze resolutely avoiding Viktor’s half-bare form in favor of the variety of clothes that the attendants were considering. “Will His Highness consider a departure in half an hour or so? There’s a security plan that should be reviewed if possible before the banquet.”

“Of course,” Viktor replied smoothly, much to his attendants’ distress. Jayce was giving him an out, a deadline for how much longer he would have to endure the fitting and royal treatment, and he would absolutely hold him to it. One of the more spirited (and observant) attendants shot Jayce a death glare. She knew exactly what he was doing, and the attendants barely had enough time to get His Highness into the appropriate regalia as it was.

Jayce shrugged apologetically before retreating to the edge of the room where he could keep an eye on the proceedings. It was a guilty pleasure to watch Viktor get prepared for large events, and one that he only allowed himself when he knew that he would have a very long day ahead of him. It gave him something to focus on, something to keep himself occupied with when the hours started to blur and his focus grew tenuous.

Viktor had turned back to the mirror so that Jayce could not see his chest but only the pale expanse of his back, dotted here and there with constellations of moles. It was better that way, really. Jayce struggled to keep his yearning and affection successfully buried on the best of days, and gods knew that he didn’t need any more temptation pushing him to say something that he would regret.

His and Viktor’s relationship was comfortable as it was, something to be treasured and kept close to his heart already. They had grown up together, flitting between the stone walls of the castle as they grew into the roles that they had been born to play. They hadn’t let the time push them apart, however— if anything, it had only brought them closer together. It was exceptionally rare for a member of the monarchy to have such a close relationship with someone tasked with their protection, to harbor any more familiarity than guarded trust and mutual respect.

It was interpalace knowledge to the more influential attendants and dignitaries that Viktor and Jayce were thick as thieves, but they both worked to maintain a barrier between themselves when they were in public or official contexts. Jayce would never admit to himself that it hurt more than it should. He missed the answering spark in Viktor’s eyes, the mischievous lilt to his voice when it was just the two of them.

But then again, Jayce had always been an ambitious, even greedy person when it came to Viktor. He never felt that he had reached satisfactory knowledge in combat skills, alchemy, or Viktor. The crown prince’s presence on his imaginary list was simply a fact of life.

And truly, could he be blamed? Viktor was so multi-faceted, had so many layers that only Jayce was privy to, that he felt as if it would be a disservice to him to not appreciate and seek after them all. The crown prince deserved to have someone that did not just admire the parts of him so carefully crafted for his kingdom or his royal duties. Jayce was in love with the person underneath, even if he knew it was a sentiment that he would likely take to his grave.

He turned his attention from his wandering thoughts to the large set of windows that looked over the palace grounds. It was a nice day— a mercy for both him and Viktor, who would be outfitted in several layers of armor and intricate garments, respectively. Viktor preferred to dress practically whenever possible, but he wasn’t going to get away with that this time.

Speaking of which, the attendants had finally coaxed Viktor into a suitable outfit for the evening. Jayce couldn’t help his breath catching as Viktor rose from his seat in front of the mirror, stretching his limbs covertly after the long stint in one position.

He was dressed in a cream-colored top with flowing sleeves, a corset-like piece of intricately adorned fabric sitting snugly around his waist. A draping place of jewelry was situated on his shoulders, small golden chains and carved pieces looping over his sides and back. A small train of fabric flared from under the corset to fall around his tailored pants. It looked as if Viktor had even been persuaded to swap his ever-present dusting of black eyeshadow for a glimmering gold finish, perfectly aligning with the pretty circlet that sat in his soft brown locks.

At least, Jayce had always thought that his hair looked impossibly soft. He didn’t really have any work-approved reason to touch it, and how the fuck would that conversation go? “You look— very nice,” Jayce said earnestly, instantly cursing himself at both the delivery of the words and the lack of decorum. Standing in front of Viktor looking so beautiful, his own smart mixture of functional garments and armor seemed woefully inadequate.

Still, Viktor didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink at the words. (Wishful thinking on Jayce’s part, he reprimanded himself). “Thank you,” Viktor replied, turning to extend a nod to his attendants. He was self-aware of the fact that he was not the ideal person to dress and prepare into more formal clothes. The attendants in question quickly took their leave with the etiquette-sanctioned amount of bows, leaving only Viktor and Jayce alone in the room.

The air felt slightly charged, although Jayce couldn’t point to any reason in particular. It was always strangely eye-opening to see Viktor in his royal regalia— to realize that the man he had grown so fond of, so impossibly close to, was none other than the crown prince of an entire nation. Viktor was the first to break the silence, his eyes shining in the rays of light that painted the dust motes swirling in the air a honey-yellow.

“Were you being serious about that security briefing?”

Jayce laughed. “Only partially. There’s not really anything new to consider, just the normal measures. I could tell that you weren’t having a good time.”

Viktor sighed ruefully, although his eyes crinkled into a half-smile all the same. “I couldn’t get out of this one. Traditional, and all that.”

Jayce nodded sympathetically. “At least the food will be good,” he offered, although they both knew it wasn’t much of an atonement for what would likely be hours of grueling small-talk and socializing.

Viktor hummed in thought. “You’re not wrong. Although I’m not sure that we’ve provided enough Noxian wine for me to drown myself in…”

Jayce let out a startled laugh. He realized he was still situated in the corner of the room from earlier, and he bridged the distance so that they were once again talking face to face. “I wouldn’t blame you, but wouldn’t that mean I’d failed at my job of keeping you alive? I could be charged with treason,” he pointed out teasingly.

Viktor waved a hand in dismissal, Jayce tracking its trajectory from where it moved tantalizingly close to his arm before drifting away again. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Misery loves company, I would’ve taken you down with me.”

“Well in that case,” Jayce nodded sagely, “it was an honor to serve you.” Viktor rolled his eyes fondly.

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” he replied in a tone that suggested he suspected very much to the contrary. The door to Viktor’s quarters creaked, a red-haired attendant sticking her head into the room with an apologetic look.

“His Highness will likely be expected on the terrace quite soon. Dignitaries have begun to arrive and the food is currently being brought out.”

Viktor inclined his head in thanks as the attendant disappeared with a nod, sighing as he turned to face Jayce.

“I suppose it’s time then. How long do you think I’ll make it before Salo tries to suggest a political marriage?” Viktor mused. Jayce snorted, offering his arm to Viktor. The motion had filled him with an unholy amount of nerves at first, but by now he had become accustomed to the standard protocol. Viktor didn’t mind the extra support before an event that would likely be strenuous on his body, either— he stuck to his multiple braces over his cane in public if it could be helped.

“An hour, tops. Sooner if he gets drunk,” Jayce replied. They made their way through the palace halls. It would be nice to have the banquet outside— the weather was lovely, and the deafening noise of hosting in the great hall always left the both of them with headaches by the end of the night.

“Security wise, we’ve kept it pretty tight,” Jayce commented as they made their way through the walls. “Everyone entering will be checked against the invite list, and we’ve got at least two squads eyeing exits and entrances at all times. Special attention to anyone in your immediate vicinity, too.”

Viktor hummed. The security protocols were a tried-and-true approach by now, and they had yet to have any significant incidents in the entirety of his reign. “Where will you be?” he asked, and Jayce let himself believe that it was because Viktor sincerely wanted to be around him whenever possible.

“Close, but not too close. We don’t want it to be too obvious that I’m a guard. I’ll be within your line of sight at all times though.”

“You won’t have an excuse for not stepping in when I’m forced to put up with small talk for hours, then,” Viktor warned.

“I look forward to your wrath,” Jayce replied with a smile. The early hours of the morning after the banquets ended were always the best part of the whole ordeal— quiet and filled with flickering candlelight, where they both finally set all of the fancy clothes and posturing required for the banquet aside. Jayce would never forget the time years ago when Viktor had not let him retire to his own quarters for the night, but had instead pulled him onto his own bed with a tired huff.

Jayce hadn’t been able to sleep that night, despite his exhaustion. Staring at the arched ceiling in the dark, he was almost able to convince himself that the warm presence of Viktor beside him was something he could look forward to every night, and not just a precious gift of a situation.

They crossed through the wide awning of the west atrium onto the terrace at last, lanterns strung up across the stone balustrades and arches. Jayce had to admit that the seneschal and stewards had really outdone themselves this time. The bunches of flowers that adorned every other awning and the crystal-clear view of Piltover-Zaun below made the space seem almost otherworldly, situated in the high hills but reaching towards the sky.

The palace would begin to let people in soon, and Jayce could see the visible deep breath that Viktor allowed himself as the staff hurried to make last minute adjustments. “Good luck,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes trained on the chaotic flitting of activity minutes before the evening started.

“And to you as well,” Viktor said. His amber eyes caught on Jayce’s for just a moment too long, something unreadable in his gaze. Jayce hesitated, opening his mouth to ask a question he hadn’t fully thought out yet, but he didn’t get the chance before a flood of sound suddenly burst forth as the doors of one of the palace atriums were thrown open.

Elegantly dressed people immediately began to fill up the terrace, and then Jayce had switched his brain into work-mode. Besides, he thought rather ruefully, trying to piece together the meaning behind the look Viktor had just given him would give him something to focus on for the rest of the night. This banquet, set from six in the evening until nearly three in the morning, would be an exceptionally long one.

Duchess Mel Medarda had already managed to navigate the epicenter of activity surrounding Viktor and get into his immediate circle, striking up a conversation with her easy grace. She was a frequent attendant to the parties, and although Jayce was wary of her house’s near ruthless ambition, he knew that she was one of the few people at these functions that could have an intellectually stimulating conversation with Viktor.

He split his attention between Viktor’s conversation partners and a guard that updated him on the perimeter, and then the night seemed to slip into the rhythm that every palace event eventually did.

The whirlwind was as exhilarating as it was tiring, and Jayce let himself enjoy the people-watching side of his job as he continuously kept an eye on anything going on in the crown prince’s vicinity. Salo was, predictably, on his fourth chalice of wine, while Sir Heimerdinger was excitedly talking about his latest set of investments to several reluctant listeners.

He recognized most of the attendants’ faces, although that achievement was significantly less meaningful when he considered just how many hours he had spent observing all of these people over the years. New faces were as dangerous as they were entertaining, however. He could catalog many of the regulars’ patterns of behavior and mannerisms, and that made them all the more predictable— and easier— for him to keep track of.

The moon had begun to rise in the distance, allowing the lanterns that had been lit in the last hour to cast a pretty glow across the festivities. The official banquet portion of the evening would begin soon, and that meant that Jayce would allow himself to drink from the small flask that he kept on his person. It wasn’t enough alcohol to get him drunk or even slightly tipsy, but he allowed himself to enjoy at least a couple sips throughout the long evening.

His visual sweep of the perimeter was interrupted when Caitlyn suddenly materialized, striding up to him with a smile on her face. “Did you see me coming?” she challenged with a smile.

Jayce fought his own smile valiantly. “Not until you passed Lady Lest thirty or so seconds ago. That’s what, three hundred feet? Not bad.”

Caitlyn smiled triumphantly. “I’ll beat that record next time— sooner or later, your job is going to be in danger.” The words were all spoken in a joking tone. Caitlyn was distantly related to Jayce, and they had grown up within the same guild, devoted to churning out as many guards as possible in service of the kingdom.

“How would Violet feel about that?” Jayce challenged, his attention split between the conversation and everything going on around him.

Caitlyn blushed slightly at the words, and it was all the answer Jayce needed. He had met Caitlyn’s girlfriend before and had taken an instant liking to her. He knew it wasn’t really his place to think so, but he was somewhat protective of Cailyn. Violet seemed to be one of the good ones.

“She’d probably mourn the chance to listen to your palace gossip and get into the steward’s collection of spirits. I swear that you both make each other dumber.”

Jayce snickered. “She knows how to have a good time, that’s all. Maybe you’d learn a thing or two from her,” he teased.

“Rude!” Caitlyn tutted. “I’m not the one who’s gonna be on duty until three in the morning.” She nudged him with her shoulder playfully before disappearing back into the crowd, no doubt going to find her girlfriend.

Jayce returned his full attention to the immediate vicinity, eyeing the shift change that was occurring at the perimeter of one of the terraces. Viktor had been caught in a conversation with the foreign dignitary of Ionia for the last twenty minutes or so, although he seemed to be faring well.

A loud bell cut through the din of hundreds of simultaneously held conversations, and people began to turn their attention to the entrance to the second terrace, the gates of which had been opened at last. The banquet portion of the night had officially begun, and if the smell alone was anything to go by, it would be heavenly.

Jayce let himself be carried along with the surge of people to the impossibly long spread of food atop the terrace-long rows of tables. He cut skillfully through the people ahead of him, trailing two or three people behind Viktor. As crown prince, he would be eating at a head table set perpendicular to the others. It was noticeably pretentious— but that was tradition, after all.

Soft music drifted through the din of conversation as people began to take their seats. No one touched the food, however, as it was customary for the host of the banquet to take the first bite or sip of the refreshments. Jayce slipped directly to the left of the beautifully carved chair that was Viktor’s for the night. While all the banquet attendants were still filing into the second terrace, he could steal this small moment.

“How is the evening treating you, your Highness?” he asked. The question was sincere but layered. Certain responses would signal an alarm or a need for extra precautionary measures.

“It is proceeding enjoyably,” Viktor said smoothly, and Jayce’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction. He was vigilant, but there was always the chance that Viktor had picked up on something that he had not.

“Salo has not yet propositioned me, either,” Viktor said under his breath, at a volume that only Jayce was able to hear.

“Now I understand why the night is a good one,” Jayce replied with a genuine smile. “Your chalice will be brought out any second. I’ll try to check in tonight at least twice.”

“Thank you, Jayce,” Viktor said quietly, turning back to the table as the last people were seated. The soft sincerity and use of his name sent a thrill up Jayce’s spine, although he quickly stamped it down. He was overreacting, and to something as simple as a word of gratitude.

Several of the more honored guests approached the table, taking seats to the left and right of Viktor. Muted chatter began to fill the room as the people waited for Viktor to rise and address them, signaling the official start of the evening. With the first sip from his chalice, he would welcome the night in and start a continuous stream of food and wine that would extend far into the night.

Jayce retreated from the head table, searching for the arrival of Viktor’s drink. It was slightly late, and although the rest of the banquet’s attendance would not be aware of this, the simple throw off of schedule sent alarm bells ringing through Jayce’s head.

His eyebrows furrowed as he made his way to the perimeter where several guards were stationed, their position close to the entrance to the palace and kitchens.

“Do you know what the delay is?”

One of the guards shook his head ruefully. “Not completely. The shift between the two squads for the eastern sectors of the terrace wasn’t seamless, and so they might be worried about whether a security breach of the eastern entrance occurred in the meantime.”

Jayce swore. “The entrance to the kitchens— lovely. Any more hesitation and people are going to catch on. Have Steb redistribute the second squad’s members how he sees fit; I’ll go see if I can resolve the situation.”

“Of course, sir,” the guard nodded before turning to relay the orders through the chain of command while Jayce headed towards the kitchens at a brisk walk. He was allowed entrance quickly, dodging several servants and carts of food already being relayed through the guarded passage he entered. The trip the food and wine took from the kitchen to the royal tables was strictly maintained, after all. Any sort of compromise between the cooking of the food to the plates of the monarchy meant the batch needed to be thrown out and redone.

Sure enough, the delay was obvious as soon as he entered the kitchens. A heated debate was taking place between the head chef and the first squad leader.

Jayce intercepted the conversation with two or three short strides. “What’s the problem?” The head chef whirled to face him, already looking red in the face.

“I’ll tell you what’s the problem. The squad leader here has disrupted the passage of the refreshments between here and the terrace tables, and he won’t tell me why! This is putting us behind schedule— we can’t just stop serving food or start retracting what’s already in the passage.”

The squad leader bristled. “I’ve already told you— there may have been a security breach. The possibility alone means that we need to reevaluate whether the refreshments in the kitchen at the time are fit to go out and be served. It can’t just be ignored!”

The head chef opened his mouth to argue, but Jayce interrupted him before he could continue. “Most of the food was already set out at the time of the potential breach, correct?”

The chef nodded. “Mostly. There’s a hold-up in the passage because of the delay. We’ve lost track of what hasn’t made it out.”

Jayce’s eyes widened. There had clearly been a breakdown of communication, but not everyone was informed. He had passed people taking out food after all— the chalice could well be on its way to Viktor at this very moment. If there truly had been a security breach, that chalice could not make its way to Viktor.

Jayce whipped around and sprinted towards the passage. He could clear up the miscommunication later— priority number one was making sure that the chalice was intercepted. He skidded into the passage, eyes rapidly cataloguing everyone inside in the crowded space. Jayce cut through the crush of people, scanning the food and drink in everyone’s arms as he ran past. No chalice, no chalice, no chalice… it had to already be outside.

He burst through the doors, the noise disguised by the din of music and chatter that greeted him as he exited the kitchens. Had the banquet already begun? No, the food still looked untouched. But Viktor was standing up, and a silver cup glinted from an attendant’s hand as they headed towards the table. Viktor was nearing the end of the address, which meant he would take a drink any second.

Jayce ran as fast as he could across the stone, measuring the distance between him and the attendant with every step. He would reach the servant in time, but just barely. Jayce thanked the gods that all eyes were on Viktor and not the perimeter of the terrace— the fact that he was running as fast as possible would surely raise some alarm, but he absolutely had to reach the chalice before it got to Viktor.

A few of the members of the head table glanced at Jayce out of the corner of their eyes, frowning at the sight of him quickly approaching their table. Viktor continued his address seamlessly however, and they soon directed their attention back to him. Jayce caught the attendant’s sleeve desperately, stopping her approach.

This would need to be improvised and fast. He had heard Viktor practice the address, and knew he only had a couple more sentences… and when he finished, he needed to be able to start the banquet without interruption.

“Is there a problem?” the attendant asked nervously, her sleeve still in Jayce’s grip. Jayce forced himself to let go of the fabric as he shook his head, angling his body just slightly so that he was between the servant and the tables.

“Just a slight mix-up,” he said easily. “His highness would prefer that I deliver the chalice as Captain of the Guard.”

“Oh,” the servant’s face turned a bright shade of red. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, I was simply informed that his Highness was waiting and—”

“No harm done,” Jayce interrupted, gently removing the chalice from the servant’s hands as he spoke. “The kitchen staff should be able to clear up the issue if you check with them.” He nodded meaningfully back towards the kitchen passage and the servant took the hint, nodding several times.

“Right! Of course, of course. Thank you.” She scurried away, and Jayce made a split-second decision. Viktor was on the second-to-last sentence of his address. He would need to take a drink in the next fifteen seconds, and it couldn’t become common knowledge that there had been a security breach.

Jayce looked down at the cup in his hands. The ruby red wine inside was unassuming, still rippling slightly from when he had taken the cup from the servant. There was only a small possibility that the chalice was poisoned to begin with— there had been an oversight in security, but there was no direct evidence that the chalice’s contents had been tampered with…

Jayce didn’t let himself overthink his decision any longer. He downed the cup’s contents without another thought, swiftly reaching into one of his concealed pockets to withdraw his own personal flask. The wine burned down his throat with a spicy tang as he quickly wiped the inside of the chalice and poured in his own alcohol, effectively replacing the wine.

Jayce approached the head table with no further preamble as Viktor reached the end of his address, looping around the back of the table to place the chalice beside him with a bow of his head. Viktor’s eyes scanned Jayce’s face questioningly as he handed him the cup. He could see the hesitance and questioning written in the crown prince’s face, a flare of an expression there and gone again as his carefully curated mask resumed.

But Jayce only smiled slightly, inclining his head towards the drink, and Viktor turned back to the banquet with unease in his stomach as he raised the chalice to his lips. When he had taken the first sip, several hundred cups were raised into the air in salute, and the banquet, at last, began.

Jayce let a silent sigh of relief leave him as Viktor returned the chalice to the table, the soft music resuming as the murmur of countless conversations once again filled the evening air. His heart was still beating wildly in his chest from the near disaster that had occurred. But the crisis had been averted— on the off chance that the temporary breach had been enough time for someone to poison the wine, it had not made it to Viktor.

Speaking of which… Viktor was making direct eye contact with him, and Jayce realized rather belatedly that he was being summoned. He took a step forward, his eyebrows raising slightly at the heaviness that seemed to rest in his feet. The evening air no longer felt cool, and lifting his feet seemed impossible. An oppressive heat was all that remained, sweat beginning to trickle down his back.

He forced himself to move anyway, stopping behind Viktor’s chair once again. The designs carved into the wood were so intricate… almost a little disorienting, if he was being honest. When he looked at them out of the corner of his eye, he swore that they were wriggling away from him.

“Yes, Viktor?” Jayce asked, and then winced when he realized that he had used Viktor’s name instead of his title. Why had he done that? He hadn’t made that mistake in years. Viktor was looking at him with something akin to worry in his eyes, his soft eyeshadow glittering in the light.

“—something wrong?” Viktor asked, or possibly repeated. Sound was bleeding into a murky soup, a continuous din that was having a hard time actually entering Jayce’s brain and making any sense.

Jayce realized that he had yet to respond. “‘I’m fine,” he slurred. All of a sudden, the table was approaching at a near breathtaking speed. He shot a hand out to steady himself, jolting as he realized he had almost fallen into the table. He couldn’t see; he didn’t like the hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Jayce,” Viktor said urgently, and Jayce frowned. Viktor shouldn’t be using his first name in public, right? Cool fingers were tilting his face up until he was looking straight into Viktor’s pretty eyes.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong, what’s going on?” Viktor questioned. He had never touched Jayce like this before, a hand cupping his cheek. It had to be a dream, but Jayce would still enjoy it. He let himself lean into the touch tiredly.

“... y’r chalice,” he managed. “‘S ok though, cause I… drank it.” Viktor’s artificially calm exterior left him, his face twisting into something horrified and scared. Jayce felt tears well up in his own eyes. Viktor should never have to look like that. Was this all his fault? He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words were stuck in his throat.

The weight around his arms and legs suddenly increased a hundredfold, and Jayce’s knees buckled. He needed to get up. He needed to… get up. He needed…

The last thing he registered was Viktor’s voice frantically repeating his name before everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Viktor had realized something was wrong as soon as Jayce handed him the cup. He could read danger in the tired smile that Jayce gave him, the way he inclined his head towards the chalice with an unreadable look in his eyes. The delay in the proceedings had not escaped his notice either— there was a situation beneath all this he wasn’t aware of.

Still, Viktor trusted him. If Jayce believed it was okay for him to drink, then he would. He swallowed the wine without further preamble, the liquid leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. As soon as the banquet was officially underway, Viktor twisted in his seat, seeking Jayce out. The fabric of his robes bunched uncomfortably. Damn these stupid, impractical clothes that he had been forced into.

Jayce was standing behind the head table, leaning against a pillar with more than a little of his weight. His position was flawless, but Viktor could read the tension in his frame. His stomach twisted into knots as a sense of dread began to creep in. He should be talking with the other occupants of the table, making connections, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jayce. Fuck decorum; this was infinitely more important.

“Captain,” Viktor beckoned, fighting to keep the strain out of his voice. Jayce blinked several times, seeming to shake himself out of a daze. He made to move forward before pitching to the left slightly. He steadied himself instantly, but Viktor knew Jayce’s style of movements like the back of his hand, could imitate them in his sleep. Jayce could not hide the unsteadiness in his walk from him.

Still, Jayce crossed the platform in three short strides, stopping behind Viktor’s chair. This close, Viktor could make out the slight flush to his face, the way some of his hairs were stuck to his forehead in sweat. “Yes, Viktor?” Jayce asked earnestly, his voice impossibly soft.

Viktor’s eyes widened. Jayce hadn’t called him by his first name in public in years— they were both carefully vigilant to maintain an appropriate barrier when they weren’t alone within the palace walls. He couldn’t deny the way the tender use of his name made his heart clench, but now was furthest from the time to let his feelings get in the way.

“You don’t look well. Is— is something wrong?”

Jayce’s eyes were flicking from his face to the back of his chair, seeming to struggle to focus on anything in particular. He was looking at Viktor with an expression on his face that was so raw it was disconcerting. It was the same kind of look that crossed Jayce’s face when he looked at the stars or snuck them out to one of the top observatories to get a taste of the night air.

A furrow appeared between Jayce’s brows and Viktor fought the urge to smooth it out with a careful touch. “I’m fine,” Jayce slurred, before swaying forward by mere inches. He shot a hand out to steady himself, almost knocking Viktor’s plate off the table. Viktor couldn’t suppress a startled jolt at the sudden motion. Jayce was barely standing, heavily leaning on his hand to keep himself upright. His head was bowed, hair obscuring his eyes from view.

He was clearly sick, or hurt, or something. The world dimmed to just the two of them, and Viktor disregarded any sense of secrecy that they had worked to maintain in the past. Let the world know how deeply he cared for this man. Viktor moved closer, cupping a hand to Jayce’s face as he gently forced him to meet his gaze.

Jayce’s skin had always been fiery against his touch, a constant sense of warmth to Viktor’s chill, but now he was burning beneath his fingertips. “Jayce,” Viktor implored more urgently, letting his worry and looming panic bleed into his words. Jayce had been fine when he had checked in earlier; there was some scene he was missing, an event that had happened in the meantime to cause this sudden change.

He could feel the weight of Jayce’s body as he pressed into the touch, his eyelids fluttering. He was only growing more unresponsive—

Viktor cast his gaze around wildly for a fraction of a second. No one was paying them any attention; no one was running up to help or offer an explanation, too absorbed in the food and drink or conversations with their neighbors.

“You have to tell me what’s wrong; what’s going on?” Viktor urged, his eyes raking over Jayce’s form to try and get some sort of clue— anything— that could show him what was going on, how to fix this.

Jayce sighed, his gaze trained on Viktor from underneath heavy eyelids. He swallowed several times before speaking, as if the words were becoming physically difficult to get out. “...y’r chalice. ‘S ok though, cause I… drank it.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Viktor felt his stomach heave at the words as the weight of them sunk in. Jayce had drunk poison, poison meant for him, and ingested it willingly knowing the risks. There was an unknown toxin working its way through Jayce’s body this very second, slowly robbing him of his consciousness, and the realization left Viktor dizzy and slightly nauseous.

He lurched forward to support Jayce at the same time that the man buckled to his knees, his head nearly cracking against the side of the table. The commotion instantly halted the conversations of everyone else at the head table, the occupants turning in their seats at last to witness the horrible scene unfolding before them.

“Get the medics!” Viktor yelled, fear cracking his tone in half, and all hell broke loose on the terrace. Guards rushed from their posts around the perimeter to evaluate the situation as attendants of the banquet looked around wildly, trying to approximate whether they themselves were in danger.

Viktor had sunk to the floor with Jayce, supporting him in a position that bore an awful resemblance to a tragic Zaunite painting. His robes pooled around them as he frantically patted Jayce’s face, feeling for a pulse with his other hand.

“Jayce!” Viktor gasped, tears threatening at the edge of his vision. The other man, normally so strong and confident, was completely limp in his grasp, his head tipping back without Viktor’s constant support. His face looked something close to serene, as if he was perfectly content with his decision.

And that was the truly horrible thing— the realization that dawned on Viktor as he desperately tried to get Jayce to respond, to blink, to do anything. Jayce had been willing to do this all along. He had understood what being Viktor’s chief protector entailed. He had always been willing to die in Viktor’s stead, perhaps even anticipated doing so. Viktor had been so incredibly stupid, so naive, to think that he could have Jayce forever.

Palace medics finally cornered the pair, panicked shouts crowding the air from nearly everyone in attendance. The sight of the crown prince on the floor, desperately trying to revive what looked to be the captain of the guard was close to pushing the occupants of the terrace over the precipice of complete panic. Medics and guards tried to maintain order, providing a shield between the head table and the rest of the terrace.

“Your Highness—” one of the medics attempted to move Viktor to the side and away from Jayce, and Viktor nearly hissed at the man, clutching Jayce to his body. A female medic grabbed her partner’s arm, trying to pry him away from Viktor. This situation was extremely time-sensitive, but dragging the captain of the guard out of the crown prince’s grasp would only escalate the chaos.

“Your Highness, we need to know what happened. The captain needs immediate medical attention,” she pleaded instead, knowing that Viktor would likely recognize reason despite his highly emotional state. She had never seen the monarch this distraught— he was physically shaking, a wild look in his amber eyes.

“My chalice— it was tampered with,” Viktor replied instantly, his gaze never leaving Jayce as he spoke, still trying to rouse him. “He ingested a toxin meant for me, and it’s fast-acting, he needs help…!”

The phrase spurred the entire palace staff into a frenzy. Not only was there a medical emergency, but an attempt had been made on the crown prince’s life. The medics closed in on them, prepared to separate Viktor from Jayce by force if necessary.

“Ready the infirmary!” someone shouted over the din. Jayce was pried from Viktor’s grasp, multiple pairs of hands frantically skating over him as they checked his pulse and breathing.

“He’s still breathing!”

“His pulse is present but fading!”

“Jayce!” Viktor all but yelled, fighting to be next to the man as guards cornered him from all sides.

“Your Highness, it isn’t safe— you need to leave this terrace immediately—”

Viktor whirled to face the guard who had managed to be heard amongst the chaos. The crown prince looked more than just distraught— he looked vengeful, a vision of holy justice. His golden eyeshadow was streaked down his face, shimmering trails painting his pale face in a striking display.

“I will be brought to the infirmary,” Viktor rasped, “and immediately. Post the entire fucking palace guard outside the doors if you have to. By Janna above, I will personally ensure the eternal misery of anyone who gets in my way.”

The guards glanced at each other with only an infinitesimal measure of hesitance before they parted, allowing Viktor to follow after the medics as they flanked him on all sides. Viktor’s leg was screaming in agony, but he pushed through it with gritted teeth, walking as fast as he could without outright collapsing.

Jayce could be dying, Jayce could be dead, and he wouldn’t know. He had to get to the infirmary; he had to. It was a physical pull across his body that made him want to claw his own skin off, to stop and vomit over the sides of the balustrades until his stomach stopped clenching.

He stumbled through the halls of the palace, at last leaving the chaos of the terrace behind for the cavernous halls of the castle. Guards and officials rushed past them at breakneck speed, and their heavy footsteps left a pounding, ever-present echo. It sounded like a death knell.

The infirmary loomed ahead, medics noticeably crowded around the entrance. Viktor was terrified of what he would find. The female medic from earlier was brave enough to approach him. She separated from the whispering group as she bowed her head in respect before addressing him.

“The captain is tentatively stable, but we don’t know if it’ll last. He ingested a lethal dose of a Class II toxin.” She was speaking in a slightly hushed tone, perhaps wary of his reaction, and Viktor didn’t know whether to be offended or grateful. It was difficult to feel anything at all— the situation was beginning to feel surreal, as if he was watching it occur through a distant window.

“We’ve administered the antidote, but we’re not sure if it’ll ‘take,’ for lack of a better word. It will be clear either way in fifteen minutes or so.” Viktor nodded sharply, not trusting himself to speak. The medics parted silently as he walked towards the infirmary door and finally slipped inside.

It was cold. The infirmary was a space that was rigidly practical with little room for comfort. Several beds lined the walls under closed windows, with the majority of the room taken up by a large brewing station to prepare tinctures. Viktor didn’t care about any of it. His attention was entirely focused on the still form laid out on the bed nearest to the wall.

A medic was already sitting by Jayce, and their face paled slightly at the sight of Viktor before they stood. “Your Highness— I will leave you. Please call us if anything changes.” They left the room with a quick bow, softly closing the door behind them.

Viktor collapsed into the chair, gasping in pain as his leg practically gave out from under him. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to the sight of Jayce before him, perfectly still against the starched white sheets.

Viktor opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. There was so much to say, so much he had left unsaid for years upon years. The fifteen minute window was ticking away, and it could be the last fifteen minutes that he would ever have with Jayce. Would he even be able to hear him? He looked peaceful, almost sound asleep if it wasn’t for the quiet shudder that shook him every time he took a breath.

Viktor reached out to thread his hand through Jayce’s, his palm limp but warm against his own. He forgot, sometimes, how much bigger in stature Jayce was compared to him. They were both tall, but Jayce’s hand practically dwarfed his own. His pale fingers were small and stark against Jayce’s warm, tan skin.

“Hi,” Viktor breathed. This felt wrong— his subconscious was waiting for Jayce to encourage him to keep talking, to tease him or goad him on as he often did. “I don’t— know if you can hear me,” Viktor admitted. His voice cracked over the middle of the sentence, but he ignored it.

“I’m so upset at you, Jayce,” Viktor confessed. “Scared, and sad, and so, so angry. You knew that something was wrong; I could see it in the way you looked at me when you gave me the chalice. But you drank it anyway. You were willing to—” he cut himself off.

“You took that risk so I didn’t have to. You took it with tenderness in your eyes, like it was what you were meant to do all along.” Viktor’s throat was clenching painfully, the words hard to push out. Jayce was so still beside him, blissfully unaware of the pain that he had caused.

“I was stupid,” Viktor rasped. “Naive, foolish, whatever you want to call it. I thought that I could have you forever, that we had time. But I should have never taken you for granted. I never… I never got the chance to tell you just how much you mean to me.”

The silence was damning. Viktor took a shuddering breath, bringing up their clasped hands to press against his forehead before he allowed himself to finally let go.

He had only cried in front of Jayce two times his entire life— once as a young child when his pet Rio died and again many years later on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. In both cases, he had been ashamed at the display of such strong emotion, at his apparent lack of control. Now, though, he would do anything to have Jayce there to witness it.

Viktor cried against Jayce’s palm, sobs that hurt his chest and made his lungs spasm. He let his spine curve against the weight, the position painful but cathartic. Jayce’s touch was soothing against his forehead, even if it wasn’t really organic.

“Sh…”

Viktor stilled, not opening his eyes. He knew that he was imagining things, and he didn’t think that he could bear the despair of opening his eyes to see Jayce so deathly still. It was better to simply sit in the silence, to take in what little time with him he might have left.

“...Vik,” a voice slurred, and Viktor instantly gave up the fight. He jerked his head up to see Jayce looking at him from under heavy eyelids, his mouth twisted into a soft smile. “There you are,” Jayce sighed, looking at Viktor with something dangerously close to love even though Viktor was sure that he looked like a wreck.

“Jayce,” Viktor gasped, and he climbed onto the bed without a second thought, practically launching himself at the other man. Jayce hissed in pain at the movement but didn’t protest, insistently pulling Viktor closer when the crown prince realized he had caused him pain and tried to retreat.

Viktor cupped his hands around Jayce’s face, his thumbs gliding back and forth under Jayce’s eyes. “You are so stupid,” he hissed with fresh tears shining in his eyes.

Jayce only nodded tiredly in agreement at the accusation before he yanked Viktor towards him with what little strength he had left, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Viktor collapsed into the touch with no resistance. He shoved his head into the crook of Jayce’s neck, relishing in the sheer warmth and safety that the close contact elicited in him.

Jayce was crying, too, he realized, if the shuddering jumps of his chest under him were anything to go by. Viktor simply increased the strength of his grip before he pulled back slightly, seeking out Jayce’s face.

They both looked like a mess. Viktor’s eyes were puffy from where he had been crying, and Jayce’s normally trim beard was wet from what was likely a combination of both of their tears.

“Hi there,” Jayce said with a watery smile. Viktor let out a puff of air, wrapping his hand around the back of Jayce’s neck to pull their foreheads together. He could feel Jayce’s eyes widen from the way his forehead scrunched against his own— Viktor was tired of waiting, tired of pushing down his feelings in favor of tradition or comfort. Jayce was worth fighting for. He didn’t care who knew it; if Jayce would stay with him, that was all that mattered.

He didn’t need to teach Jayce what the gesture meant. Although Jayce was not native to Piltover-Zaun, he had grown up alongside him. Viktor was at long last laying himself bare before Jayce, inviting him to respond however he saw fit.

When Jayce was the first to pull back, Viktor felt another shard of his heart chip away. He had been wrong… but at least now he didn’t have to wonder. He could content himself with loving Jayce from afar.

And yet, Jayce did not let him go far. He pulled back only to search Viktor’s gaze for a few precious seconds. Viktor didn’t know what he was looking for, whether he was finding whatever he was seeking or seeing something he wished wasn’t there. He wasn’t afforded the chance to try and puzzle it out, however.

Jayce’s mouth was suddenly on Viktor’s, a soft, almost hesitant, press. Oh. Viktor had not been so far off after all. He pressed forward, everything else beginning to fade away. Somehow, despite it being the first time, the kiss felt like coming home— like discovering something he had been meant to find, elusive and yet inescapable.

Viktor sighed into the touch, feeling the tension bleed out through his fingertips onto Jayce’s skin. It was a metamorphosis, the knots inside him gently untangling with every touch. Viktor kept his hand on the back of Jayce’s neck, pulling him closer, and Jayce went along with the direction easily. He shifted slightly, resituating them atop the bed in a position that was more comfortable for both Viktor’s leg and Jayce’s back.

Jayce was strong, and yet so achingly pliant underneath his touch. Reassuring, Viktor realized. Jayce was silently assuring him that he was still there, letting Viktor confirm for himself just how alive he was. Viktor splayed a hand over Jayce’s chest, feeling the strong heartbeat thudding beneath his palm. Jayce’s mouth moved softly against his own for a moment longer before he broke the contact, shifting to press small kisses all over Viktor’s face.

“Jayce!” Viktor reprimanded with a surprised laugh, but Jayce couldn’t be stopped. He peppered Viktor’s face with quick kisses, finally pausing to tuck a strand of flyaway hair behind Viktor’s ear.

Viktor snorted. “There, I’m sure I look completely presentable now.” Jayce nodded with a smile much too genuine for the sarcastic remark.

“You always do,” he said sagely, the words igniting a blush across Viktor’s face. The door to the infirmary creaked open, both of them jolting at the sudden noise. Still, Viktor didn’t move from where he was practically sitting on Jayce’s lap. He made direct eye contact with the medics that filed in— say something, his eyes seemed to challenge. Tradition and propriety had kept him from Jayce long enough.

To their credit, the small group of medics that entered did not comment on Jayce and Viktor’s cozy position. In fact, most of them either smiled or audibly sighed in relief at the sight of Jayce alive and well.

Steb, leader of the second squad of palace guards, entered immediately after, zeroing in on Viktor and instantly coming forward. It seemed that the palace staff had clearly gotten the message: instead of attempting to drag Viktor places where he did not want to be taken, they would take the briefings or important information directly to him.

Steb let a rare smile cross his face as he bowed slightly to both Jayce and Viktor. “I am glad you are well, Captain,” he said to Jayce genuinely.

“Thank you,” Jayce said with a smile as Viktor nodded his agreement. Steb realized his accidental omission soon after and quickly turned to Viktor.

“Oh! Pardon my rudeness, Your Highness. I am also very pleased to see that you are unharmed.” Viktor dismissed his concern with a small smile.

“It is fine, Steb. I am just as glad as you are— both at Jayce’s recovery and that your first priority is keeping an eye on him.” Jayce blushed at the words but didn’t argue the point. It was strange to hear his name leave Viktor’s mouth in the presence of others, but he knew that it was something he would highly enjoy getting used to.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Steb said, secretly delighted to see the normally confident Jayce so ruffled. “I came to give an update on the proceedings. The first and second squad have managed to quell the mass panic that occurred shortly after the poisoning. We initiated a temporary lock-down to prevent the assassin from escaping, but he was found so quickly that the ban was lifted only ten or so minutes later.”

“Do you have the assassin in custody?” Viktor asked. There was a dangerously promising glint in the prince’s eye.

“No, sir,” Steb replied, unknowingly slipping into military jargon. “We attempted to take him alive, but unfortunately he was also proving an immediate danger to the banquet attendees. My squad acted accordingly to manage the threat.”

“Do you have a profile on him yet?” Jayce interjected. Even though he had been the one to almost die at the assassin’s hands, the thought that someone had even attempted to harm Viktor filled him with a righteous anger.

“Yes, we do!” A proud look graced Steb’s face. “Scar was quite helpful in that respect. There’s still more to learn, but we can say for certain that the assassin was a male from Bilgewater. He likely wasn’t working for anyone, however— a handwritten manifesto was found on his person.”

“Are we confident that the attempted poisoning was all he did?” Jayce asked.

“To the best of our knowledge,” Steb replied. “The manifesto gave a complete accounting of everything he had done to infiltrate the kitchens, cause temporary confusion surrounding a shift change, and poison the chalice. There was also a second, smaller vial of the same poison in his right pocket. It doesn’t look like he planned to survive the ordeal.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully. “So he was something of a radical, then. Volatile, and uncaring of whether he personally survived.”

Steb swiftly nodded his head in agreement. “That seems to be the case. We’ll continue the investigation of course, just to be sure. We also informed the banquet attendees that His Highness was quite regretful to leave so soon but would likely be retiring from the festivities.”

Jayce couldn’t help a laugh at the pretty lie. They both knew that Viktor would be quite pleased to skip a banquet on the best of days, least of all when a tragedy had almost occurred.

Steb’s eyebrows nearly rose into his head at Jayce’s unrestrained behavior, but the crown prince didn’t seem to mind. If anything, perhaps he found it amusing— Jayce received a playful elbow to the stomach for his troubles.

“You seem a bit delirious, Captain,” Viktor directed at Jayce with a lofty tone, who was still snickering quietly.

Although he had meant it sarcastically, his own words reminded Viktor of just how much Jayce had been through in the last twenty-four hours. He turned his attention to the one or two medics who were still present in the room, perhaps waiting to deliver news of their own.

The female medic from earlier stepped forward when Viktor made eye contact, dropping into an awkward curtsy. “How is the captain of the guard feeling?” she asked earnestly.

Jayce opened his mouth to respond before hesitating. Just how did he feel? The crushing weight in his chest was gone, and the air no longer burned going down his throat, but the lingering exhaustion was still lingering in everything he did.

“I think the toxin is still being flushed out,” Jayce said truthfully. “I’m exhausted and my head hurts, but it’s nothing compared to when I lost consciousness earlier.”

Jayce could feel Viktor’s body stiffen against his and he placed a gentle hand on him soothingly. He was alright— tired as hell, but alright.

The medic nodded. “You need to rest; I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up sleeping for more than twenty-four hours, even. Your body has been through an ordeal, sir.”

The sleep sounded heavenly— his brief stint of unconsciousness had not done anything to relieve his crippling fatigue. Steb nodded in agreement. “The banquet situation has been sorted out. I will leave you to rest.” He dismissed himself quietly, the medics close behind. They were left in the calm quiet of the empty infirmary, only the slow bubble of a tincture breaking the silence.

Jayce could feel Viktor’s gaze on him as he watched the wooden door close with a thud. “Would you let me fall asleep in this bed if I ask nicely?”

Viktor shook his head with a small smile, soft brown hair falling into his eyes. “Not a chance. You deserve to rest in a real bed.”

Jayce huffed a tired breath, letting his head fall onto Viktor’s shoulder. “I thought you’d say that,” he confessed into Viktor’s shirt, his voice muffled. Viktor shivered at the feeling of Jayce’s hot breath against his skin.

“Only because we’ll both regret falling asleep here.”

Jayce hummed in tired agreement into his shoulder, and Viktor swore he could feel the vibration down to the tips of his fingertips.

“Come here, then,” Jayce said tiredly.

“What do you mean, I’m already—”

It was as far as Viktor got before strong arms were suddenly wrapping around him and pulling him upwards. He barely stifled a shriek that would have had the guards running.

“Jayce!” The man in question was looking at him with a stupidly self-satisfied look on his face. Clearly, he had no qualms on spending the last of his energy to pick Viktor up when he least expected it.

“You said you were exhausted,” Viktor accused helplessly. He wasn’t really mad— just surprised and a bit indignant. The fact that Jayce had picked him up bridal-style and their faces were inches apart wasn’t helping either.

“I am,” Jayce confessed. “I’m just getting us to bed.” He hooked a foot around the infirmary door as he spoke, slipping them both outside into the (empty, thank the gods) corridor.

Viktor was sure his face was on fire regardless. “Well— get us there faster,” he hissed.

“Anything for you, V,” Jayce replied. When they finally made it to Viktor’s quarters, he didn’t let go of Viktor. Instead, he let himself fall back onto the velvet bedspread, taking Viktor along for the ride.

They sprawled out amongst the pillows as the curtains of the canopy fluttered at the sudden motion. Viktor instantly shrugged off his cream colored top, the fabric bunching uncomfortably. The white, airy tunic underneath was so much more breathable; he was not going to sleep in formalwear.

Jayce was looking at him intensely, and Viktor fought the urge to curl in on himself. He was sure that the chaos of the day was well-reflected in his appearance, but did he really have to stare?

“You’re staring,” Viktor accused softly.

“Can you blame me?” Jayce replied evenly. “You’re beautiful.”

“I— the lamps aren’t lit,” Viktor protested. “You can barely even see me.”

Jayce shook his head, crawling over to lay on his back beside him. “I don’t need to see you perfectly. I’ve thought it for years.”

It was a simple thing to say, and yet it left Viktor speechless. He had long made peace with the fact that his feelings for Jayce, his admiration of him, even his desire to be near to him, all existed solely in the precious oasis that was his mind. They were beautiful fantasies, dreams that put him to sleep at night and promised to return whenever he opened his eyes.

After all, monarchs did not marry for love— they did not love at all. The kingdom he was born to rule was meant to function as his spouse, the only entity he should love and care for above all else. His feelings were a betrayal, or so he had thought.

And to think that Jayce was the same, that they were two stars orbiting each other, bound to collide before the universe came to an end. Of all the arcane findings and curiosities that Viktor sought after, this phenomenon had to be true divination, true sorcery.

Jayce did not misinterpret his silence. Brilliant man that he was, he was somehow able to read the weight in it. He only leaned in closer, gently pulling Viktor against his chest. They slotted against each other so perfectly in the dark it felt preordained.

Viktor let his eyes fall shut as the sound of their soft breathing filled the room. Sleep was whispering in his ear, encouraging him to let go. And with Jayce safe and so warm against him, who was he to deny Her call?

When the dawn set fire to the hills, it would find the kingdom secure— monarch and guard together at last, inextricably bound.