Viktor x Reader

Twenty-Seven

You couldn't believe it.

There he was, Heimerdinger, one of the most powerful creatures in all of Piltover, right next to you in one of the elevators that led straight into the Lanes.

Somehow this felt like being accompanied by a god.

And yet you couldn't help but feel nervous like you've never did before.

What if someone would recognise the creature underneath the black hood?

What if you said one wrong word to the wrong person?

No, you shook those fears off.

Heimerdinger was a creature of the Arcane, a creature born with magic.

Surely he would be able to solve bigger problems.

Yet again, you didn't wish to cause any in the first place.

All you had to do was smuggle him through the Lanes without being seen and then get to Viktor.

Once he talked to him it would be easy to convince him to offer Viktor a place at the academy.

Only thinking about it made your heart beat fast with excitement.

Soon Viktor would be a student of the academy.

"Please follow me.", you bowed your head to hide the hopeful expression on your face under the hood.

It would have been foolish to make people see emotions other than caution. Happiness didn't exist amongst people of Zaun.

They considered it something vulnerable. It marked easy targets.

With his eyes jumping through the streets, Heimerdinger followed you.

Both curiosity and shock mixed in his eyes.

He seemed to be surprised that this was the true face of the Undercity.

You wondered if this was his first time on the other side of the bridges.

No, surely he must have been here before. After all, he was one of the founding members of Piltover, that once had been as much part of Zaun as Zaun had been part of Piltover.

"Good heavens...", he muttered as you crossed the main road. "This is..."

"The Lanes.", you mumbled with a bitter huff. "You're in luck, master. Today is a calm day."

His little head snapped up to meet you with confusion.

"Calm?!", he asked. "This is like a battlefield."

You nodded.

"A battlefield at rest. Most days, it's war down here."

You pushed a few wooden boxes aside to make way for him to pass.

"But... This place used to be like no other. Industry, flourishing business."

You stopped, looked down and had to frown at him.

"How long has it been since you've come here?", you asked, both baffled and insulted by his audacity to be surprised.

His eyes left you. He seemed to think.

"Well, a few decades I suppose. Not too much time, but maybe a bit long. This seems rather extreme considering that I haven't been away for long enough to have a change of human generations."

"Master Heimerdinger, most people don't here don't have a few decades. Some are lucky that they make it past teenage years."

He looked up to you again. This time there was some sort of expression on his face that might as well could have been from a teacher.

"My dear child, humans might not live long in comparison to my species, but they do manage to make it to a couple decades.", he explained as a matter of fact. "Some even grow to be a century old."

A soft sound of annoyance escaped you.

"Some live up in Piltover.", you snarled. "As for me, I am a fourth generation of Zaunite already."

"Fourth? Doesn't that seem rather extreme?"

You huffed, dodged the shoulder of a hooded figure, who obviously was about to try and pickpocket you, and walked down some stairs.

Muddy water and oil mixed on the tips of your boots.

It smelled of chemicals.

Heimerdinger could hardly keep himself from pressing a hand to his snort. The pollution and chemical stench seemed to be something he was entirely unfamiliar with.

"It would seem extreme for someone who knows nothing but security and riches, no?", you asked and guided him down the stairs into another alley that swallowed all the dim light that managed to crawl down to the Undercity.

"I assumed you'd understand the concept of hard work and earnings, my child.", he noted. "Instead I came here to be insulted."

"My apologies. I do not insult your way of living. Rather I am upset about the fact that you, a creature of privilege, fail to understand that this way of life is no one's choice. We are simply forced."

"There is always a way out of crime. The bridges are a way to connect the two cities. They have and always will offer another chance."

You froze.

For a moment, you had to hold your breath to keep yourself from shaking.

There was this voice in the back of your head.

Hate.

All you could feel for him in that moment was hate and disgust.

He really did live up in Piltover, in a huge house, with all the fancy things and privileges while believing that escaping this hellhole you called home was as easy as crossing a bridge.

The image of Viktor's father crossed your mind, how he was laying there, covered in blood, between rubble and empty bullet shells, his eyes wide open, locked with yours.

But he hadn't  moved.

After that day he had never moved again.

"Sir...", slowly, you threw a glance over your shoulder to meet his gaze with nothing but cold, traumatised eyes. "The bridges have taken more from me than they could ever give back."

Something crossed his face.

Was it disapproval?

Or the urge to argue?

No, it was something else.

He didn't knew. It took him by surprise to hear these words.

Unsure about what to say, his lips moved. He raised a hand in an attempt to approach you.

But you could already feel the tears burn in the corners of your eyes.

Quickly, you turned your head forward again, to hide your face.

"We should hurry.", you tried to sound well put together, but a small tremble was audible inside your voice. "Once night strikes it will not be pleasant to be down here."