Chapter Text
The laboratory had been many things to Jayce over the years—a second home, a sanctuary, the birthplace of Hextech. It had always felt warm, alive, and welcoming. But now, all life and warmth had been stripped away. The space, once brimming with energy and ambition, was nothing more than a hollow husk. He realised, perhaps too late, that Viktor had been the heart of this place, the quiet forge that breathed life into their shared world. Without him, the lab felt sterile and lifeless.
And yet, Jayce kept coming back.
It was the only place he still felt close to Viktor. He could almost convince himself the man had just stepped out, that at any moment he would find him hunched over his desk, completely absorbed in his work. Some days, Jayce swore he could still catch traces of his scent lingering in the air. A sharp, clean freshness like ozone, followed by a subtle warmth, a touch of musky sweetness that lingered faintly, like the memory of rain on warm stone.
He clung to that, to the illusion, because the truth was unbearable.
More than anything, he waited. Waited for word, for news, for the smallest indication that Viktor was alive and breathing. Days bled into nights without change. The silence was oppressive, suffocating. No one would tell him anything, no updates on Viktor’s condition, no hint of when—or if—he might be released. The thought of Viktor being so close and yet so far tortured Jayce in the long hours of his absence, and a brewing hostility grew toward those who kept them apart. He stayed at the lab as if his presence alone could summon the answers he so desperately sought.
An unexpected knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He jerked upright, swiveling in his chair just in time to see Mel Medarda slipping through the door.
“Mel,” he exhaled, scrambling to his feet.
The chair clattered to the ground behind him, but he barely noticed. In just a few long strides, he was in front of her, tense with urgency. He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand, stopping him before he could utter a word.
“Before you ask—no, you can’t see him. And no, I can’t authorise it.” Mel’s voice was quiet but firm, and unmistakably laced with exhaustion.
Jayce deflated, the fight bleeding from his shoulders. It wasn’t the answer he had been hoping for.
“There has to be another way.” He searched her face, desperate to find a solution there.
Mel sighed, her expression softening. “I was outvoted on this one, Jayce. Under no circumstances is Viktor allowed visitors. Not even by members of the council.”
Jayce raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes in an attempt to stave off the dull ache building in his skull. It had been weeks. Weeks since he and Viktor had miraculously woken atop the Hexgate, alive and whole. Weeks since he had last seen Viktor. At this rate, he didn’t know when he was likely to see him again.
His hand fell away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. He felt utterly helpless.
“Thank you for trying,” he murmured, his voice hollow. “I appreciate it.”
Turning away from Mel, he made his way back to the desk.
“Can I get you something? I’ve only got coffee.”
“No, thank you.”
Mel watched him, silent but astute. He knew she could see it—the tension, the restless energy coiled beneath his skin, the way his hands trembled faintly before he forced them still.
As she stood by, Jayce couldn’t help but notice her scent—the warm, soothing floral aroma. It was calming, almost comforting, and despite the chaos and fatigue weighing on his mind, he felt his body relax, if only slightly. Mel was usually in full control of her omega pheromones, wielding them with precision when it suited her, as she had once admitted to him. But now, with exhaustion evident in the slump of her shoulders, he wondered if her hold had slipped, just for a moment.
“There have been… developments,” she said after a moment.
Jayce straightened, his brow knitting together.
Mel hesitated before continuing. “While I haven’t been able to get permission for you to see Viktor, the council has been… receptive to your plea for his life.”
“What?” Jayce’s voice came out sharp, almost breathless. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I wasn’t quite sure how to tell you,” Mel explained. “It wasn’t until this evening that the council reached a decision.”
“Alright, let’s hear it,” he said. Hope flickered in his chest, fragile and desperate.
Mel’s expression shifted—subtle, but undeniable. Her mask, usually so practiced, cracked just enough for Jayce to see something waver beneath it. Discomfort. Disgust.
“Jayce, let me preface this by saying I don’t condone this decision. It’s archaic and goes against everything Piltover stands for.” She inhaled, steadying herself. Jayce barely dared to breathe. “The council is willing to dismiss all charges against Viktor and allow him to go free—but only under the condition that you claim him.”
Silence stretched between them as Jayce processed the news.
“But…” Jayce paused, confused. “But Viktor is an alpha.”
“Yes.”
“They want me—an alpha—to claim another alpha?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her, mind reeling. “How is that even possible?”
Jayce had never heard of such a thing. It defied everything he knew about alphas, about secondary biology, about the way the world worked. Piltover prided itself on progress, far removed from the rigid traditions of places like Noxus. Secondary gender norms had never been strictly enforced here. He had even heard of omegas pairing together, life partners, despite being incapable of traditional mating.
“It’s a barbaric act, Jayce. An alpha is repeatedly, and usually forcibly, mounted and claimed—over and over—until their body suppresses its alpha genes,” she explained, her revulsion barely kept at bay. “The combination of physical and psychological stressors alters their biology until they essentially become an omega. They’ll never be capable of conception, but in every other way, they will become… compliant. Forced to obey their alpha.”
Jayce blanched. A cold, sick feeling churned in his stomach.
“Do they want me to control Viktor?” Jayce asked, piecing together the council’s intent. "So there is no repeat of what happened?”
“Essentially.”
“And what makes them think I’ll agree to this?”
Mel stared at him hard, as if the answer were obvious.
“Because either you do… or Viktor dies.”
Jayce turned from Mel, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. His mind raced, an electrical storm of firing synapses as he tried to process the news and all the while, formulate a plan. There had to be a way around this—a way to agree to the council’s demands without actually doing what they asked. If he played along, if he made them believe he was agreeable to their demands, then maybe, just maybe, he could get Viktor out before it was too late.
His stomach twisted at the thought. The idea of claiming Viktor—of truly, irrevocably making him his—burrowed deep inside him like a parasite. It was the alpha in him, he tried to reason, a primal hunger clawing at his resolve. He tried to bury it and remind himself that this was about saving Viktor, not satisfying his own base desires.
But the thought lingered.
A flicker of heat. The scent of him. The shape of his mouth when he spoke, when he breathed his name—
Jayce clenched his jaw, disgusted with himself. This wasn’t about what he wanted. It never had been, he tried to tell himself.
Lost in his thoughts, it was the soft draw of air as Mel prepared to speak that Jayce remembered he wasn’t alone.
“There’s more,” Mel said.
Jayce let out a bitter laugh. “Of course there is.”
She hesitated. “The council will require proof that you’ve consummated the act before they let Viktor go.”
Jayce turned back to her, eyes narrowed. “Proof?”
Mel nodded. “They know you, Jayce. They know you’ll try to run. That you’ll try to get Viktor out before you—” She stopped short, swallowing her disgust. “Before you do what they ask.”
Jayce’s hands trembled. “And what do they expect? That Viktor presents his neck to them, lets them see my mark on his skin like branded livestock?”
The awful telling silence that followed made Jayce’s stomach drop.
His senses sharpened, narrowing in on her hesitation. He could hear the faint hitch in her breath, see the way her fingers fidgeted at her sides, the way her scent–once warm and soothing–had turned sour. She was.. afraid. Or disturbed. Or both.
There’s more, he realised. Something worse.
When she finally spoke, her voice wavered. “They want it to happen before the council. A public mating ritual.”
Jayce recoiled. “They’re—they’re insane!”
Mel’s lips pressed into a tight line.
His whole body vibrated with rage. “Isn’t forcing me to claim him enough? Now they want me to do it in front of them? Like we’re nothing more than—than animals?” His voice cracked, raw with disbelief. “Viktor will never agree to this.”
Jayce raked his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands as if the pain might anchor him. His pulse thundered in his skull, each beat a hammer striking against the side of his head, fraying his composure.
His eyes snapped to Mel, his fury seeking an outlet.
"How could you let this happen?" he spat, his voice sharp with betrayal. "You should have fought harder. You're on the council, Mel—you could have stopped this."
Mel’s gaze darkened, something flickering behind her eyes—hurt, disappointment—but when she spoke, her voice was unyielding, forged in Noxian steel.
"Let me remind you—it was you who stormed out, who abandoned your seat on the council. And now you have the audacity to stand here and demand that I fix what you threw away."
Jayce gritted his teeth.
“You think this is what I wanted?” She gestured at him. “I don’t agree with this, Jayce. I never did. But I tried to guide the council’s decision as best I could and with you in mind.”
Jayce took a threatening step forward. “And this is what you think I would have wanted?”
Mel held her ground. “I made a choice, but Janna forbid I don’t despise myself for it.”
Then, suddenly, the fight seemed to evaporate from Mel in an instant. Her eyes fell to the floor before Jayce, seemingly lost, tired, conflicted.
“I have condemned that man,” Mel said quietly, as if the words were meant for herself alone. “How do I know that?” She met his gaze again, her eyes sad and pitiful. “Because whenever there has been a question between life and death, I’ve seen the extreme lengths you’ll go to for love, Jayce.”
Her words carried a truth Jayce had long accepted but never spoken aloud. He would —had—done anything for Viktor. And if it came to it, he would again. Without hesitation. Without regret. Because there was no alternative. None that he would accept.
She was right about him.
And that terrified Jayce.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last, the words thick with regret.
It wasn’t fair to take his anger out on Mel. She was his only ally—perhaps his only friend now. Not that he was without them, but with Caitlyn bed-bound and recovering, and Vi unwilling to leave her side, Mel had been the one constant he could rely on. And for that, he was grateful.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“I know,” she said, gracious as ever.
Jayce exhaled long and hard. He couldn't help but wonder when, exactly, Mel had figured him out. Was it back when he refused to leave Viktor’s side when the arcane had cocooned him in its grasp? Or had she known long before, during those long years of their partnership? He wasn’t prepared to ask. He feared that he'd navigated their ‘partnership’ in denial, convinced it had been something it wasn’t.
It didn’t matter.
What mattered was that she had helped him, gone against her own morals to do so. And there was nothing he could do to repay her for that.
“When is this…” He hesitated, swallowing thickly. “When is it supposed to happen?”
“Three days from tomorrow,” Mel replied.
“Three days,” Jayce echoed.
And he already knew—those three days would stretch into an eternity. But at the end of it, he would have Viktor again.