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Silence is a consuming thing, even more so when the silence in question is brought about by the fault of none but one's own self. A silence that lasts an eternity is an even more consuming thing, and when an eternal silence is the fault of one's own self, one has nothing but time to reflect upon every single mistake. Every wrong breath, every wrong thought, every wrong word, every wrong act—all must stand trial at the altar of judgement in Viktor's own mind, for each individual misstep had a crucial role to play in the spectacle of his own damnation.
Want to know the worst part?
Viktor knows exactly where it all goes wrong. In all timelines, there is a singular point at which he can alter the course of fate. There is a singular point at which he can make a singular choice that would guarantee the salvation of every world that would otherwise die at his hand. And yet in all possibilities, Viktor refuses to make the singular choice that would prevent such a calamity.
The reason for this is simple. Laughable, really, for it is so deeply human that it almost feels as if the arcane is playing some kind of cruel joke on him. It always had a way of doing that, didn't it? There is a reason his partner's corpse is forever kneeling, encased in stone and moss by his side.
All it would take would be letting Jayce and his mother die in the snowstorm. With Jayce dead, he never would have grown up obsessed with magic. With Jayce dead, Viktor never would have helped him to bring his dream—no, theirdream into reality. With Jayce dead, Viktor would have died, too—alone, having succumbed to his illness without ever having the chance to rain arcane destruction upon the world in his ascent to godhood.
And it would be the simple thing, the smart thing, the right thing to just set his emotions aside and do what he knows must be done in order to create just one, one timeline wherein Viktor does not destroy the world.
And yet, Jayce's corpse will forever remain at Viktor's side until the universe's end.
And yet, Viktor is still human, despite his best attempts to prove otherwise. And he is selfish. And he cannot sacrifice the best years of his life in each and every iteration of that life, even if it means condemning the entire world to death.
Dying by Jayce's side is a far better fate than surviving alone. Viktor should know.
If a lifetime of dreamless solitude has taught him anything, it is this.
And it is not that Viktor has not tried to stop his ending of the world—there have been countless timelines wherein Viktor has attempted to intervene, to change the course of a fate brought unto a world that did not deserve it. There are things he has tried to change. Minutiae he has tried to alter, in the hopes that perhaps by altering such a small detail, the entire chain reaction of events that follow can be prevented.
It never works.
Timeline after timeline, fallen to ruin by Viktor's own meticulous hand. He knows what must be done to stop it. To save just one timeline, even if it is not his own.
He does not have the strength to do it.
So instead, he allows himself the decades of scientific innovation by Jayce's side in every timeline, knowing all the while that those decades will be the reason for each timeline's inevitable damnation. And Viktor cannot bear to deny any version of himself those decades, even if the price of those decades is the rest of the world. He knows he does not deserve this indulgence. He wants it regardless.
It is quite simple, really—a world wherein Jayce is not his partner is not one worth saving.
And so instead, Viktor brings yet another timeline's version of his partner into his own silent and devastated world, for perhaps this iteration of him will be the one to do just what every other iteration could not.
"I've been expecting you." Viktor's voice cracks with misuse—it has been quite some time since he last spoke. It is nice to speak again. Silence is a consuming thing.
Jayce gazes at him with wild eyes, panting and out of breath. He has endured hell in this place, for this place is hell—one of Viktor's very own design. "You…who are you? Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?"
Viktor turns his head and meets Jayce's gaze. "I believe you know who I am quite well, Jayce."
Jayce falls to his knees. "Viktor?"
It would be so easy to forget what must be done. It would be so easy to abandon all responsibility and fall into Jayce, arms wrapped around him like a lifeline.
But Viktor must not lose sight of why Jayce is here. He must not forget the impending calamity, even for the briefest of vulnerabilities. Viktor is doomed to this eternal existence, and it is deserved. He brought it upon himself. There is no prize to perfection.
So he remains where he stands, and he lets the faintest trace of a smile ghost across his face. "Hello, Jayce."
"You're so…" He hesitates. "You're so old."
And yes, Viktor supposes it should come as a shock—he himself never once considered the possibility of growing old, nor did anyone around him. Jayce always put on an act of denial, but even he knew—Viktor was never supposed to live past forty.
"Yes," Viktor says finally, a faint laugh escaping his lips, "I suppose I have aged." And how wonderful is this, to finally speak to his partner again? To smile, to joke, to laugh—oh, how he has missed this. It is no wonder he cannot let Jayce die in that snowstorm; Viktor cannot afford to miss out on this. Not in any lifetime.
"You—wait." Jayce's eyes widen. "You're the one who saved me and my mom when I was a kid, aren't you?"
Viktor nods. "Yes… I suppose that I am unable to simply let you die." His lips quirk into a wry smile. "A weakness we both share when it comes to one another, it would seem."
Upon hearing these words, Jayce's shoulders fall, and he lets out a long sigh. "Look, I know I promised you to destroy the Hexcore, and I see now that it would've been better to just let you go, but—"
"I know, Jayce." Believe me, I know.
"I'm sorry, Viktor."
"There is nothing to be done about it now."
"Is there any way I can fix it?"
Ah, Jayce. You were Piltover's poster boy for a reason—beautiful, but always so naïve.
"I thought I could bring an end to the world's suffering," Viktor finally says in lieu of a proper explanation. "But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit." A brief moment's hesitation, and then Viktor finally dares to look Jayce directly in the eyes and smile. "In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this."
He hopes Jayce understands. The iteration of our story does not matter, for it has always been you. Please, pull me from this ledge just as I did for you all those years ago.
Save me from myself, for I cannot do it alone.
Jayce rises to his feet, arcane-infused hammer in hand. The weapon passes from the hands of the dead to the living. Perhaps this time, the living will not go on to join the dead.
"I know what I have to do," he says, a steely glint behind his eyes. "I won't break my promise to you again."
"Go," Viktor urges him. "Give us the ending I could not."
It takes only a moment for Viktor to be left once more in silence. In Jayce's absence, the silence echoes. Reverberates off the walls of what remains of Viktor's soul. Cuts like daggers to his core, leaving him bleeding. Who knew silence hurt this much?
Viktor kneels in front of Jayce's corpse, pressing their foreheads together as he traces his fingers gently down the face of the monument to his greatest mistakes.
We do not deserve a happy ending, for together we created something that brought about the world's ruin. And yet, what we created was briefly beautiful, because I created it with you. So please, let me have eternity with you. If I can have nothing else, at least let me have this.