Work Text:
“I don’t want you here.”
Those are the first words Vi hears as she steps foot into Caitlyn’s bedroom.
It’s a magnificent room. Better than anything Vi’s ever seen in her entire life. Huge, gigantic bed. A massive window with tons of beautiful, natural—no, unnatural?—sunlight filtering in. Fresh flowers sit in big, colorful vases. The rug underneath Vi’s feet—Vi’s certain it must cost more than the sum total of all wages she’s ever made. This place is a fucking palace.
It’s also a prison.
“Sorry, but I’m planning on sticking around,” Vi says. She takes another step into the room and pauses, brow furrowing because there’s something in the air that puts weight against her body, pushing back, slowing her down. She can’t come closer to the god sitting at the end of her bed, glaring at her, scowling at her, righteous and angry for reasons Vi knows.
“Leave,” Caitlyn says. Vi isn’t sure she imagines the strange blow against her gut—light enough to not be an active force but tangible enough that Vi’s almost sure she felt something hit her.
“I can’t,” Vi says, stiffening. “I really—look, Lady Caitlyn, could we just—”
“Just let me die.”
“I can’t let that happen,” Vi says flatly. Stubborn as she is, Vi pushes at the invisible barrier between her and her charge. One step, in front of the other, slowly, but surely. The god continues to glare at her, but her gaze widens just the slightest bit. Vi continues pushing, teeth gritted.
“Lady Caitlyn,” Vi says. “I haven’t even been here a day. Please, give me a chance.”
One year. Vi has one year to convince this god that she’s the one. She has to make this happen. It’s the only way things will work out for both her, her family, for Cassandra, for everyone else. Vi’s not giving up. No matter what.
“You don’t know what this means for you,” Caitlyn says. The wall between them falters. Vi manages two more steps forward.
“I do know, I’ve read all the papers,” Vi says. “I know what I’m signing up for. I want to help you.”
“You can’t. This—it’s a curse.”
“You’re a goddess. You don’t make curses, you make blessings.”
“For you, it’s a curse.”
Vi makes it all the way. She stands in front of Caitlyn, in front of this god shaped like a woman, this god who uses Caitlyn’s voice, her body, her eyes and her mouth and her tongue. Caitlyn is a god and she is a person, but she isn’t human. Blue eyes stare up at Vi, incredulous, offended, still angry, but there’s a strange softness there too, a kind of surprise, almost.
“Curse or not, that doesn’t matter to me,” Vi says. “I’m sticking around. Whether you fucking like it or not, princess.”
—-
“Your family will be well taken care of,” Cassandra says. “They’ll never worry for anything.”
“They’ll be paid,” Vi says.
“Yes, they’ll be paid,” Cassandra answers. “Very well.”
“Okay. Good. They’ll be paid.” Vi looks down at all these papers, all these words. They’re all just contracts for a death sentence. A very, very, very long, death sentence. As she scrawls her signature in the spaces, she thinks of how each paper she pens her name on is just another binding vow, a surefire promise of a certain future for her family.
As she goes to sign the last and final document, a hand stops her.
“Are you sure?” Cassandra repeats. Prior to this, Vi’s only ever seen the woman be steadfast, strong, resolute. Nothing like the face of a woman whose only daughter got taken from her before she was really ever born.
Now, though, Vi sees the cracks.
“I’m sure. I’m really, really sure,” Vi answers. She doesn’t know if she says those words aloud for herself or for Cassandra.
“Are you absolutely certain?” Cassandra asks again. “Vi, this is…If you’re truly determined to do this, if this works, and my daughter accepts you, you—you can’t take the bond back. You really, really, can’t ever leave.” The woman leans forward. There is a shimmer to her eyes that Vi does not want to see but she stares anyway, because it’s the polite thing to do when addressing someone at a funeral. “This is a permanent decision.”
There’s a plea in there somewhere. A highborn woman begging a street rat to reconsider the value of her life because deep down she’s mortal too and she knows that all of this is so, so wrong. But Vi does know the value of her life—it’s what made her volunteer in the first place. She’s a rat. She’s a rat that can gnaw and chew and fight for scraps at the bottom of the ladder all her life or she can grab a thorned vine and climb her way up to sunlight and blue sky.
“The goddess will die, if I don’t bond with her, right?” Vi asks.
Cassandra’s lips go thin. Hollowly, she says, “Yes, Caitlyn will die.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t want your daughter to die,” Vi says. “And I want my family to be taken care of. So, win-win for us both.”
“I am giving you this chance to back out.” Cassandra leans forward, blue gaze intense. “You can still have your freedom. No fault or blame would be put upon you if you refuse, even now. You’re absolutely certain.”
“No one else has volunteered, right? I’m the last one?”
Cassandra doesn’t answer.
Maybe this was why so many of Vi’s predecessors had quit—or, Vi suspects, rejected outright by the god. Maybe it wasn’t just the goddess rejecting them, but the goddess’s mortal mother offering them a way out.
“I’m sure, yeah.” Vi writes her name one last time.
Cassandra says nothing. She looks away, her eyes shut, a grimace to her mouth.
—-
“You’ve been nothing but rude to me, in what mad world would I ever want to bond with you—?!”
“Because you don’t fucking get it!” Vi slams her fork and knife down on the table, all fucks thrown away because who cares if this stupid goddess blasts her with lightning or kills her where she sits. Vi doesn’t care anymore because she’s living in a mansion built for heaven and she’s living with a goddess who doesn’t know that the real world is built by mortals and not by gods.
“What don’t I get?” Caitlyn hisses. “You’ve been a rather piss poor ‘partner’ so far. You’re meant to teach me the realities of the world and all you’ve done is teach me that I’m right to not want to live—”
“I don’t want to be here either!” Vi spits, all acid. “You want a lesson so bad? Fine! I’d rather be with my sister, my brothers, my dad, cooking up some shitty overdone meat that I don’t even know where it’s from. I’d rather be—fucking up my hands in the factories making crappy little watches for you topsiders or breaking my back in the mines and screwing up my lungs with the soot there than be here with a spoiled, rotten little god like you who barely knows how good you have it!” Shoving away from the table, breathing hard, Vi glares down at her charge. “You know how hard it was for me to even get a decent meal? I was eating scraps and garbage for all my life, and here, every day, you get this! And you get a home that’s—”
“That’s keeping me trapped here for as long as I breathe!” Caitlyn hurls back—a force hits Vi again, but it’s less a punch and more a shove. But…there’s hesitation in Caitlyn’s voice, in her stance, calculations happening in her brain that conflict with her own heated emotions. “You don’t need to remind me that you hate being here. I hate you being here, too! I don’t want you here, at all! You, being here, you’re just another vessel for servitude, the way I’m—I’ve always been a vessel for godhood. I can’t bond with you—!”
“Well suck it up, princess,” Vi says, throwing her hands out, half-laughing because Caitlyn’s self-serving altruism is too bullshit for her to handle right now. “You’ve got to. I need this bond because coming here, being with you for forever was the only way I’d ever be sure my sister would live the life she deserves to live! That she gets to eat, she gets clothes on her back and a good roof over her head and she’d be able to make it places I could never go. I’m doing this for her.”
Caitlyn’s trembling, her fists clenched tight on the table. She’s staring up at Vi with an expression that’s hard to parse. Anger? Realization? Something else?
“There—there must’ve been other ways, surely,” Caitlyn says. “Other ways for you to care for your family—”
“You don’t fucking know,” Vi says, bitter. “You don’t know that all the blessings you give, it’s for all the topsiders, not us bottom feeding trenchers down there. You don’t know that.” Of course she can’t know this. Vi’s figured it out from being here the last month that Caitlyn’s been kept in the dark about so much. A sane, more levelheaded part of Vi can’t blame Caitlyn for this. A more angry, upset, and grieving Vi wants to lash out anyway. This temple—it’s not just Caitlyn’s tomb, it’s Vi’s. “You don’t know that in the Lanes, we’re fighting for our lives, everyday, down there. Barely a day goes by when there isn’t some dead body in the streets or some poor fuck getting conned in an alleyway. I joined up not just because my sis will be set for life but also because those priests promised that if we bonded, they’d finally bring folks up from Zaun to be blessed by you. To be helped by you.”
“I…” Caitlyn’s losing steam. She’s gone pale.
A part of Vi can’t bear to see because the lash of shame hurts hard. Vi throws up her hands, and begins pacing the room. “And you know what’s worse? I feel sorry for you. You’re a fucking god, you can do almost anything, but you’ve never seen the real world, you’ve never known what it’s like to feel afraid that you won’t make it the next day because you’ve been starving for days, you’ve never known what it’s like to get your ribs broken because the next gang over decided you’re their punching bag. You’ve never—”
“I’ve never lived.”
Vi whips around, and Caitlyn still sits at the table, but her hands are in her lap and she’s looking at Vi.
“You’ve sacrificed everything to be with me,” Caitlyn says, quiet. “I understand. But in the end, you’re still here to use me, just as everyone else does. You’ve just given up everything to do that.”
Hands on her hips, Vi glares at the ground. It’s a brutal backhand, an efficient move from Caitlyn on her part. Vi has to respect it. It’s the truth. They both know it.
“I’m done talking. Bye.” Vi leaves, and Caitlyn doesn’t follow.
They don’t see each other for two days straight. Vi eats her meals alone in the dining room, where meals just magically appear, and she wanders alone in the silent hallways, entering the library and reading tomes she doesn’t remember before she retires to bed. She sees no sign of Caitlyn anywhere. This temple is a palace and it is a prison and it is where she will die. She already has died, in a way.
The lash of shame hits Vi again, and she curls up on her bed and stares at the wall.
Caitlyn’s never been alive either.
On the third day, Vi goes to the room that turns into a gym. It’s a fairly nice one.
She practices the moves that Vander had taught her.
As Vi pants, sweats, throws another fist against a punching bag, does she hear footsteps at the door. She doesn’t turn to look, but the footsteps move towards her.
“No one’s ever spoken to me like that, before,” Caitlyn says softly.
“I don’t care.”
“I know you don’t. You’re the first.” Caitlyn watches Vi box for a moment.
Vi ignores her. She keeps practicing, her fists hitting the punching bag deftly and quickly. She’s prioritizing speed today, not strength.
“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn says. “I…I didn’t think of you, in the way that I should have. I was…I am, frustrated, that you have to do this. I wish you didn’t. I don’t…I don’t want you to be my anchor, as much as you don’t want to be too. This isn’t…I didn’t choose to be this way.”
Vi doesn’t answer. She keeps punching the bag.
“If…if bonding with me saves your family, and the people of Zaun, then I’m willing to do it,” Caitlyn says. Vi fumbles a punch. “I just…I just regret that it has to be you. You’d—you’d be trapped here, with me, forever, Vi. To do that to you, to anyone…”
The punching bag swings towards Vi. Vi grips it with both her hands, panting. She still doesn’t look at Caitlyn. She knows Caitlyn’s feelings so, so well. It’s why the woman’s always angry, always bitter, a mirror reflection of Vi’s own hate for a world that feels like it never changes, even when gods walk the earth. There’s a price to godhood and it’s mortals that pay for it.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you left. I haven’t blamed any of the others before you, either. If you do leave, I want you to know—I’m grateful, that I got to know you. Thank you for sharing with me what your world was like. When the priests come to get you, I’ll ask that—I’ll refrain from giving anymore blessings until I can bless people from Zaun.”
“You’d only be alive for less than a year, if I left right now.” Vi closes her eyes and exhales. “No one else will come.”
“I know. I’d still have some leverage, I think, until I die.” Caitlyn says, as if discussing life after she dies is a normal thing to do. “In the time that I’m still alive, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
“If you bond with me, you know, you keep living, right?”
“I know,” Caitlyn says.
“I’m just using you.”
“I know.” Caitlyn exhales. “As does everyone else. You’re no different.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“It’s why I was born,” Caitlyn says. “I was born to do this. Be this. I can’t do anything else, but help others.”
She can’t go anywhere else. She can’t be anything else. She’ll always be a god.
Pity curls into a stone in Vi’s stomach. Caitlyn’s offer is so, so tempting. Caitlyn’s willing to bond. Vi has a chance at saving more than just her family. But the cost?
It’s so steep. After all these weeks of being here, despite their tumultuous relationship, Vi can’t stomach the thought either, of chaining a god not just to herself but to this prison called a palace. Maybe they’re both more similar than Vi wants to admit. Sacrifice shouldn’t be a common tether between them both, but it is anyway.
“I can’t go back right now,” Vi sighs. She tilts her head from side to side, stretching the stiff muscles in her neck. “So long as I’m in here and it seems like I’m trying to make a bond with you, then my family will be taken care of.”
Finally, Vi turns to Caitlyn, and Caitlyn has an arm wrapped around herself.
Caitlyn’s supposed to be a god. She doesn’t look anything like one, right now. Vi feels a twinge in her heart, an unwilling one, but she’s always had a heart too big for her chest.
“Then, when my time’s up, you should leave,” Caitlyn says. “We don’t need to bond. You can leave, and you’ll be free, Vi. And, maybe, the next god after me—they’ll fix things for you, and your family, and for Zaun.”
That’s no promise, and that’s no guarantee. It’s nothing. Their only way out from this is bonding. Vi knows it. Vi knows Caitlyn knows it. Caitlyn’s trying to make her feel better but it’s just lies put in the air to make them both feel like they have control over a world that won’t bend for them.
Vi opts to say something that’s true, instead. It’s barely a salve for wounds that are too deep in them both, but it’s a start.
“I’m sorry, for what I said,” Vi says. “You…you may be a god, but I know it’s the priests that really run the show here. It was pretty obvious from the outside, too. I’m sorry.” At least Vi had had the chance to live outside, breathe the air and see a real, blue sky. Caitlyn’s never had that chance. Nor would she ever, if the priests had their way.
Caitlyn shrugs, a half-hearted, rueful smile on her face. “They’ve dictated our lives in every way, it seems. Some more than others.”
Not all gods are omnipotent. Especially Caitlyn.
“Well, you should know. I have more things to teach you, about Zaun, about the world,” Vi says. She begins to unravel the bandages around her arms, and she sees, out of the corner of her eye, Caitlyn taking a tentative step towards her. “S’part of my job, isn’t it? To teach you real shit? Isn’t that what anchors do? Tether you gods to real shit down here?”
“I’d love to learn some real shit,” Caitlyn says, and that makes Vi laugh—and, for the first time, she hears Caitlyn laugh too. The air is lighter, the false sun in the windows brighter.
—-
There’s an altar room, or prayer room, or just a room that Caitlyn goes to whenever she’s meant to offer her godlike blessings to someone. Vi doesn’t really know what to call the room—it’s a reception area too, because this is where Vi had first entered all those weeks ago, knowing that when the doors closed behind her, that’d be the last time she’d ever see the outside world—the last time she’d ever see the real sun. Most of the time, though, Vi only visits this place with Caitlyn, when the priests signal Caitlyn that there’s another blessing to be done, to be made, to be given.
Today, there’s just a baby lying on the altar, wrapped in a shroud. The baby isn’t crying, but she’s whimpering, and redder than she should be.
Vi stands with Caitlyn at the altar, Caitlyn staring down at the child with a stormy expression.
“I can cure her,” Caitlyn says, flat.
“You don’t sound happy about that,” Vi remarks.
Caitlyn pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes screwed shut. She exhales.
“The reason,” Caitlyn says slowly, eyes opening to turn on Vi. “Is because, like clockwork, every year, at this time, I’m always handed a line of babies who are struck by this very same illness, and I don’t know why.”
“You want to figure out the root problem, huh.”
Caitlyn grips the edges of the altar, whites of her knuckles showing as she stares down at the baby. “Of course, Vi! If I knew, I’d be able to prevent these sicknesses in the first place! But instead, I’m trapped here, and when I send correspondence to those priests, they tell me that ‘it’s unnecessary’ and ‘a waste of a god’s potential’ to deduce the reasoning of said illness when it’s far easier and manageable for me to just cure them instantaneously. Why bother finding out the source when I can always cure the end result?”
“And, let me guess, you think the priests are asking for money from the parents to get their kids here. It’s free cash for the priests,” Vi says.
“You know that’s not even a guess. It’s a fact.” Caitlyn waves a hand over the baby, and instantly, her complexion brightens, and she lets out a little giggle of joy, shifting in her shroud. Caitlyn’s expression softens. “I just…they only bring me the children that I’m sure come from families that pay. And, from what you’ve told me, there’s countless more children and more people that don’t get my help.”
“I’m sorry,” Vi says.
“Why are you apologizing?” Caitlyn turns to her, and her fingers slip towards Vi’s. “We’ll find a way, to fix this, all of this, everything. Together.”
It’s such a daunting task, figuring out not just their futures but everyone else’s too. But who else could do it, but them?
“Together.” Vi squeezes her hand, and the baby on the altar lets out a happy cry, her little hands reaching towards them both.
—-
“I’m sorry,” Vi says softly.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m still sorry that you’ve never gotten to…see this, for real,” Vi says. They’re lying down in another room the temple has conjured up for them, grass pressing against their backs, staring up at a ceiling that looks so much like the stars and night sky, even with a beautiful, shining moon, but it’s not the real thing and it never will be. “I just…I can’t imagine it. You’ve been here, all this time?”
“I’ve never known anything else,” Caitlyn says. She rolls onto her side, and Vi does too, their arms almost brushing. “I wish…if, by some miracle, I ever got out of here, that’s the first thing I’d like to do. See the real stars. See the real world.”
“It’s a real big place, I can tell you that much.”
That manages to make Caitlyn laugh. “I suppose so. Tell me about Zaun. I want to know all that you know.”
“Ah, it’s dirty, kinda messy,” Vi says, chuckling. “But there’s tons of places to climb, and there’s really, really, really good food stalls. I mean, the food’s good here, but you’ve never had one of Jericho’s fish skewers. Crazy good, Cait.”
“Mm. What else did you like about Zaun?”
“There’s this one rooftop that me and sis go up to,” Vi says, a little wistful. “At midnight, it has the most incredible view of both cities. Like, just mind-blowingly amazing, Cait. You can see everything, all the way out to the harbor. I wish I could show you.”
“I wish I could see this with you too.” Caitlyn’s expression falls a little. “I…wish I could see everything with you.”
It’s so, so cruel. No mortal nor god deserves this kind of fate.
Vi tries to think of something, someway to bring the world to Caitlyn, because that’s all she can do now.
“My mom taught me a few songs, before she died,” Vi says. It’s such a shit way to segue to a new conversation topic—dead parents, cool subject—but Vi just knows she wants to bring Caitlyn out of her melancholy, take away that heavy weight of sadness in her gaze and replace it with genuine, real, joy. “I never figured out if the songs were just traditional Zaunite songs handed down, or if she just made them up, but…I could sing them for you, if you want.”
Caitlyn lights up, and even in the false night, she’s radiant. “Really? You’d sing for me?”
“You that excited at the thought of me singing? I’m just okay at it, you know.”
Caitlyn pushes herself up, gap-tooth grinning at Vi with an eagerness that makes Vi want to reach up and brush back that loose strand of hair by Caitlyn’s face. “Please, Vi. I want to hear you sing!”
“Hah, okay, okay.” Vi pushes herself up too, and Caitlyn scoots closer, resting a hand on Vi’s arm as she looks at Vi with anticipation. Their faces are so close, and Vi likes that she can see the stars in Caitlyn’s gaze. “So, the first song, it goes like this…”
—-
“How does it work?” Vi asks.
“You won’t understand if I explain,” Caitlyn says.
“C’mon, try me.”
“No, I’m serious.” Caitlyn looks up from her bowl. “You literally cannot understand it. It’s—if I explain it, it’s the equivalent of me speaking out the language of the gods. You’re a mortal. You literally cannot understand it.”
“Try me.” Crossing her arms, Vi leans back in her chair, eyebrows raised.
Sighing, Caitlyn drops her fork and throws up her hands. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t try warning you.”
Vi can’t describe what happens next. She can see Caitlyn move her mouth, and she can hear sound, but something happens in the translation of what language goes into Vi’s ear and what impulses enter Vi’s brain. She squints, harder, and the corner of Caitlyn’s mouth quirks upward in amusement, but the woman continues speaking—speaking something that Vi’s brain just cannot parse. Caitlyn’s words are not—they’re not distorted, blurry, or distant—Vi can hear with clarity but she can’t understand it. It’s like Vi’s scrabbling for purchase on a very, very wet surface, fingers scrambling to grab onto something that’s just impossible to hold. She can’t hear. She can listen. But she can’t get it.
“Do you understand now?” Caitlyn asks. Those words come crystal clear.
“I—no,” Vi says, genuinely taken aback. “How—how did you—?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Caitlyn picks up her fork and spears a piece of lettuce in her bowl. The way she’s biting her lip; fuck. Vi’s such a sucker for this version of Caitlyn—when she’s a little smug, kind of bratty, because maybe it’s a sign of humanity in her and Vi’s always a sucker for a human heart that beats like her own. “Vi, I promise you. This is really a god thing. You won’t get it, no matter how much you try.”
“Not fair,” Vi huffs.
Caitlyn laughs. “Vi, please. You’ve been trying to teach me how to play the saxophone for weeks and I’m still poor at it. Sometimes, there’s just things mortals do better than gods, and there’s things gods do that mortals just can’t.”
“Reminds me, we have another music lesson today—”
“No. Nope.” Caitlyn stands up, grabbing her bowl, speedwalking to the door. “I am not humiliating myself again with another ‘bad toot,’ as you said—”
“Cait!” Vi laughs as she hurries to follow after. “C’mon, it was really funny—”
—-
“You’re not afraid of me.”
“Why would I be?” Vi asks, nonchalant. The answer isn’t a total truth, but it’s also not a lie. Vi’s felt those strange, intangible punches to her gut more times than she can count the past week. Each time she trades sharpened words with this bratty little god, Vi’s always wondered just what would happen if she poked just a little too hard—would Caitlyn punch back harder, throw her into a wall? There’s power in Caitlyn’s every breath, in her every word, in her every gesture.
But Caitlyn never does hit back harder. The only thing Caitlyn will really hit Vi with are words edged with poison and vitriol and anger and fury. It’s strange.
“I’m a god.”
“And?”
“You know what gods are capable of, don’t you?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Vi continues staring at the pages fo her book, seated at this big table in this even bigger library. It’s strange, but fascinating, almost, how Caitlyn always seems to come to her, no matter where Vi is.
“I don’t understand you.” Caitlyn’s tone is flat. She stands at Vi’s side, and Vi can feel the fluctuations in temperature in the room; first, a degree hotter, then cooler, then hot again, like Caitlyn’s trying to figure out just what exactly she’s supposed to feel with Vi around. “You wish to gain my favor, do you not? To bond with me? As all the others have?”
“Oh, you’re trying to figure out why I’m not sucking up to you, like all the others,” Vi chuckles. She puts down her book, and then stands up, meeting Caitlyn’s eye. To Caitlyn’s credit, she doesn’t move away, but her eyes do dart all over Vi’s face.
“You wanna know why I’m not scared of you, or why I’m not gonna play nice with you, like all the others did?” Vi asks, purposefully taking a step forward into Caitlyn’s space. The god doesn’t move, but Vi does see the visible swallow of Caitlyn’s throat.
“Why?” Caitlyn asks.
“Because,” Vi says with a slow, widening grin. “I think you’re just a bratty, prissy, spoiled rich chick, and I’m a guy with absolutely nothing to lose.”
—-
“Cait,” Vi says. “I wanted to talk to you. Remember what you told me, about this place? The temple, I mean?”
“Yes?”
Vi gestures for Caitlyn to follow her, and the woman does. Vi leads them down a hallway, then another, and opens a door—and it’s what she’d wanted it to be, a place for the two of them to sit in peace. This whole temple…its magic. Vi still can’t fathom it, how it seems to just know what she wants at any time, and how it offers it to her without hesitation.
The only thing it refuses to offer is escape.
But that’s what Vi’s here to talk about.
“You told me that this temple,” Vi starts, sitting on a bench that overlooks a gorgeous fountain amidst a room full of beautiful gardens, vines and flowers and shrubs that bloom beautiful blossoms in the false sunlight above. “It’s like a puzzle. A living puzzle, right?”
“Yes?” Caitlyn sits next to her, head tilted. “Has it not adapted to your needs?”
“No, no, it has.” Vi purses her lips, trying to think of how to say this without sounding stupid. “You know how—the puzzle room. The room that this temple keeps making, and it’s filled with puzzles and little math books or mystery novels with problems and shit for you to solve?”
Somehow Caitlyn seems to find joy in the little puzzles she puts together, finds delight in predicting the end to a whodunnit mystery; the moments are fleeting, and Caitlyn’s always bitterly reminded later of her real place in the world, but Vi spends hours in there with Caitlyn regardless because she knows Caitlyn’s happy there, even if only for just a moment.
“Yes?” Caitlyn’s trying to parse apart Vi’s line of thought.
“What if this whole place—it’s just a temple for you to solve?”
“Vi, I’ve thought of this,” Caitlyn sighs. “There’s no solution to the temple. I can’t find it.”
“Maybe you were never able to find it alone,” Vi clarifies. “You told me this temple was first built by—one of the previous gods, and their bonded partner, right? What if those two guys built this puzzle together—and they meant for it to be solved together?”
“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Caitlyn says, brow furrowed. “But, then why hasn’t anyone else figured it out? My predecessors?”
“I think there’s more to it,” Vi says. “Something else. Something we’re missing. But maybe if…if we look into it together, we find a way out. Together.”
“Are you saying we should bond?”
Vi swallows. “We don’t have to. Maybe you just—you just need someone else, to help you solve the puzzle. A two-man job, I mean.”
“Okay.” Nodding slowly, Caitlyn says, “I…do you have ideas of where to start? What the temple puzzle is?”
“So.” Vi takes in a deep breath. “I think—”
—-
“Vi, tell me honestly. Do I look younger to you?”
“I—no?” Vi stands behind Cassandra, the two in a bathroom. Caitlyn’s elsewhere, entertaining her father. She’d cast Vi and Cassandra a look when Cassandra had asked for a moment alone with Vi, but when Tobias had gestured for Caitlyn to follow him, she’d done so.
Cassandra peers at herself closely in the mirror, angling her face this way and that, a finger touching the corner of her eye. “Once,” Cassandra starts. “I remarked to Caitlyn on a strand of gray in my hair. She—the look on her face, when she’d told me she’d ‘fixed’ it for me. She had. Since then, my hair’s never grayed. Caitlyn was eight, at the time.”
Vi doesn’t know what to say.
“I’ve forbidden her since then from ever using her powers on me. But I feel as though I can never be certain that Caitlyn’s doing things for me that she shouldn’t be,” Cassandra says, quiet. “Each time I meet with her, I’m afraid of speaking too much. I know Caitlyn will just feel compelled to fix any problem I bring to her, regardless of whether it’s actually a problem or not. She’s—she’s always been like that, ever since she was young. If there’s a problem, she has to solve it.”
Vi rubs her arm, looking away. “Yeah, I get that. I know.”
“Have you seen this, though? Can she do that? Turn someone younger?” Cassandra asks, turning around, staring at Vi with such an intensity that it makes Vi take a step back.
“N-no. No, I haven’t seen her do something like that.”
“If she’s ever capable of doing that, you must tell her not to use that power, ever,” Cassandra says. She moves, stands right in front of Vi and stares down at Vi with a furious kind of intensity that makes Vi shrink a little. “Do you understand? You must not let anyone know. The priests cannot know. There are some problems she absolutely cannot and should not solve.”
“I-I know. I promise, I swear.” Vi swallows. “I told her, about the priests. She’s—she knows. She’ll know why, if I tell her not to do that.”
“She’s always been a smart girl. My girl,” Cassandra says, but her smile is pained. “Have you—and her, things are…better? Is she happy with you?”
“Yeah,” Vi says, with a half-hearted smile. “Caitlyn’s happier. We figured things out, together.”
“Has she discussed bonding with you?”
Vi knew this topic was coming. “We talked about it. She’s—not ready for it, not yet.”
“Vi, there’s not much time.”
“I—I know. I know, we’re figuring it out. She’s figuring it out,” Vi says. “I’m not gonna push her on it, okay? It—it’s Caitlyn’s life, too. I’m not gonna force her—”
“I’m not asking you to,” Cassandra cuts in. “I know. I understand, this is a major decision. It’s just—” The woman turns, leaning a hand against the wall, and her shoulders fall as the woman stares, hard, at the ground.
Then, something breaks in Cassandra. Cassandra presses both hands against the wall, leans forward, and presses her brow to the wall.
“She’s my daughter,” Cassandra says, so quietly that Vi strains to hear. “I want her to live, Vi. I do.”
Vi doesn’t say anything.
“But she’s never really been mine,” Cassandra whispers. “I speak to her but I can’t talk with her. I’m with her, but I can never be with her. Do you understand?” Tear-filled blue eyes glance at Vi. A familiar sight.
“Yes,” Vi answers.
“This isn’t the life I ever wanted for her. Or for you. Neither of you deserve this.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“If my daughter and you are the price to pay for miracles, then maybe I’ve never wanted miracles at all.” An uncharacteristic sob breaks from Cassandra’s mouth, and the woman claps a hand to her mouth, as if trying to put the sad little thing back in. Cassandra’s shoulders hunch, briefly, before the woman turns from Vi and straightens up, looking at her reflection in the mirror and hastily wiping away the tears at her eyes, her hands smoothing out her clothes, her hair. Vi turns her gaze away.
Finally, Cassandra becomes herself again. The self that the world’s always known.
“Vi, we should return to Caitlyn and my husband,” Cassandra says, in that familiar, business-like tone that Vi’s always known. “I’m sure they’re done preparing for the picnic we’re to have. Caitlyn’s always enjoyed those, and I wouldn’t wish for us to be late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Vi nods.
Cassandra offers her a smile—stiff, pained—before she opens the door and leaves, and Vi follows after. No wonder Vi’s only ever seen Cassandra in black. The woman’s been grieving her daughter, ever since she was born.
—-
“She rejected another one?” Mylo snorted over his bowl of oats.
“‘Course she did,” Powder said, intensely focused on screwing in a bolt on her newest contraption. “At this rate, I’m pretty sure we’ll be getting a new goddess in the next year. Current one doesn’t seem interested on staying on this fucked up planet for any longer than she needs to. And honestly? Same.”
Vander cleared his throat from over at the bar, and Vi’s siblings hunched their shoulders.
“It’s not good to talk about her like that,” Vander called out, the big man straightening up at the counter, hands pressed flat on its surface as he critically gazed at his children. “She’s a goddess, and she deserves respect.”
Vi can’t help the words that spill out of her mouth. Bitterness speaks for her. “If she were really a goddess that’s supposed to fix people’s problems, maybe she’d find a way for us to not be scrambling for scraps here in the Lanes—”
The slam of a tankard. Vi holds Vander’s gaze, but her heart beats fast in her chest. Vander regards her for a moment, then turns his eyes on Mylo and Powder, who studiously avoid his gaze.
“Topsiders hear you slanderin’ her like that, they’ll find another reason to bag us,” Vander says. “Don’t give ‘em a reason to come down here. Once the goddess finds her anchor, it’ll be all the better for the rest of us. You know it’s been ages since they’ve let a Zaunite get blessed by ‘er.”
“Whatever,” Vi mutters. She pushes away from the bar booth, hands shoved into her pockets, before heading upstairs.
She makes it up to the rooftop, heaving a heavy sigh as she pulls out the flyer from her pocket.
She’d been waiting, years, for this moment. Hoping, praying that the goddess up there would keep on pushing the limits of her own mortality. She’d needed the offer to be good. She’d needed the fucks up topside to get desperate enough to offer anything. The few times Vi had prayed to a god—the goddess, in this case—and somehow, someway, the damn goddess had done as she’d asked.
Vi stares at the flyer. She stares at the fine print at the bottom. If the Goddess bonds with you, we of the Goddess’ Inner Circle promise a lifetime guarantee of safety and security for your loved ones.
The goddess had answered her prayers. Now it was time for Vi to answer her in return.
—-
Caitlyn had described it to her.
Vi had thought, at that time, she’d be able to handle it.
She can’t, not really. But her body has to take it. There’s no going back. She won’t die, Caitlyn had said, but she’d suffer all the same. That’s what the bond is.
It’s agony that’s blinding, that’s all destroying. It’s a magic that’s engraving and grafting her soul onto Caitlyn’s—or Caitlyn’s soul onto hers. It’s carving her apart, piece by piece. It’s bleeding out her skin, searing, white hot agony that’s branding her back, her spine, her shoulders, her arms, her legs. Every inch of Vi is covered in this magic that isn’t letting go.
She doesn’t know if she’s screaming still. She’d only had enough sense in her brain to understand the first five seconds of horrid, wrenching pain before every thought had been blown out of her by just the sheer, copious amounts of bone-breaking and organ-ripping agony.
She can’t feel the hands that hold her, the whispered sobs at her ear, apologizing.
She just knows and feels and is pain. Every part of her body, every cell, every molecule, getting forcibly rewired to point to something else, to function for something else, to become something else. Everything Vi is, was, and ever would be—all of it, every part of her, shifting, turning, gears grinding against each other in a grand machine, moving her, piece by piece, towards a North Star.
—-
Vi studies the paper in her hand, hoping, trusting, believing that that math she and Caitlyn had made together is right.
This temple—this palace, this prison. It’s a maze.
Every maze has an end. A solution.
Vi checks the paper again, rushing down another nondescript hallway. She can feel the strange tug of her bond with Caitlyn—the feeling that her counterpart is hurrying down a similar hallway, in parallel.
Vi checks the paper again, turning right now, the hallway before her forming together as she runs down its length, bricks and stone forming and solidifying into existence as her feet beat against the ground.
It’s strange—the black ink on her arms still catches her off guard, because each time she glances down at her skin, the patterns shift and change. Sometimes there’s constellations, stars written and twinkling across her skin. Sometimes it’s straight lines and sharp corners, twisting and jerking across her forearms. Sometimes it’s soft curves and billowing clouds, pieces of weather that storm and drift around the crook of her elbow.
Elsewhere, on Vi’s body, she knows, there’s more of this. More of this magic that ties her to Caitlyn. It’s magic written into her, and it’s magic that won’t and can’t ever leave her.
But it’s what serves her now. She checks the paper, and the ink on her wrists shoot left. Vi turns left, and feels Caitlyn do the same, wherever she is in her side of the maze.
—-
“This? This is it, right? The core?” Vi asks.
Caitlyn’s grip on her hand is tight, as the two inch forward into the strange, large cavern. There’s nothing but black void surrounding them and the single path that leads to the center of this giant place, where a strange, ethereal and twitching orb of light hovers, flickering, contorting and twisting in mid-air above a platform.
“If our calculations were right, yes,” Caitlyn says. She checks the paper in her hand—filled with so many of their predictions to center of this endless maze, this infinite place and all its rooms and paths. “This is it, Vi. We made it.”
“If there’s an afterlife for us, and we meet the two fucks who built this place, we should beat their ass,” Vi says. Even nervous, Vi can’t help but crack a joke.
Caitlyn chuckles, her hand squeezing Vi’s. “Though I’m tempted to agree, I just…Vi, with our bond…I can’t help but blame my predecessors for wanting to make a safe haven for them both. Somewhere they could just—escape, without being hounded or chased constantly for more miracles, more blessings. This—it’s a prison, now, I know, but maybe, back then, it wasn’t. It was a home.”
It’d been Caitlyn’s home for ages.
They walk towards the platform, towards the living, white core.
“You feeling nervous, about getting out of here?” Vi asks.
“You know me too well now,” Caitlyn says softly, with a small smile.
“Hah, well. I mean.” Vi raises her free hand, where the tattoos on her skin flick upward, darting up to her ring finger, briefly flashing a band around it.
They stand before the core. It blinks, twists, writhes. Vi’s tattoos answer in the same rhythm.
“This is it, Cait,” Vi says, glancing at her counterpart. “You can do this.”
“I can do this,” Caitlyn whispers. She glances behind her, a strange expression on her face; sadness, mixed with excitement, trepidation. Vi can’t blame her for being nervous. This is the end. This is the beginning.
“You can do this,” Vi says.
“I can.” Caitlyn nods, then takes a deep breath in. She raises her hand, her fingers brushing the edge of the core.
—-
“That’s—that’s a mountain over there, right?” Caitlyn asks.
They’re a few miles from the city. Vi had wanted to be sure she could get Caitlyn out of the city’s borders without attracting attention—it’d make her getaway easier, too, is what she justifies to herself, but now they’re standing in a clearing in a forest and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that they’re both stalling for time.
“Yeah,” Vi says. She swallows. “I, uh, packed enough supplies for you and me to last for a few days out on the road, and you have all my notes about camping out here. Remember, the next town’s down the river—you remember the river we passed, right?”
“Yes.” Caitlyn shoulders her pack, and turns to the direction of the river. She glances at Vi. “I—thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Vi stands there. She doesn’t know what to do. “So, um. I’m gonna—I’m gonna loop back, head back to Zaun, contact my family and let them know I’m out. You gotta make sure you steer clear of Zaun and Piltover, okay? If the priests find you, they’re putting you right back—”
“I know,” Caitlyn says. “I know. I’ll—I’ll go to the next town, like you said. And I have the maps.”
“You finally get to see the world, cupcake. It’s—it’s a hell of place. Everywhere, I mean.” Vi works up a smile.
“Yes, yes. I’m excited to see it all myself.” Caitlyn can’t help a smile of her own, but Vi doesn’t miss the hesitation in her voice. “Tell—tell Powder, and Vander, and the others. I’ll come as soon as it’s safe. I promise. I’ll help them—all of them. All of Zaun. I’ll do it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know, Cait. I know.”
Caitlyn stands across from her, biting her lip, glancing at the trees, and then back at Vi.
Vi knows Caitlyn now. Well enough to know Caitlyn will not ask her to stay. Caitlyn wants her to, but she will not ask.
“How about I make sure you get to the next town? You’ve never had to haggle or bargain before,” Vi says. “I gotta teach you that. You wanna make sure you get good rates when goin’ to a tavern and shit.”
The relief is visible in Caitlyn’s eyes. “I—yes, I think I would like that.”
—-
“I’ll stay with you,” Vi murmurs, her lips brushing Caitlyn’s. “I’ll stay.”
They’re tangled in the sheets together, sweat slick across their skin, Caitlyn’s hands tracing up and down Vi’s bare back, holding her close. Bonding had been one thing, but there’s still this romantic in Vi that loves physically being with Caitlyn like this. Vi’s always wanted this, this close intimacy that can only come with having two hearts beat in tandem, and she gets to have this moment with her better half.
Vi brushes a thumb against the underside of Caitlyn’s breast, and hears and feels Caitlyn shudder against her.
“Don’t, Vi,” Caitlyn whispers, her voice cracking just the slightest bit. “You deserve to go home.”
“I can go home anytime.” Vi pulls Caitlyn in closer, holding this woman, her god, in her arms. “There’s a world out there for us, Cait. We can find it together.”
Caitlyn’s hands reach up, cupping Vi’s face. There’s tears in Caitlyn’s eyes, and there’s a smile that shatters Vi’s heart.
“Together,” Caitlyn says, almost a sob, and then she pulls Vi in, kissing her with all the fervor and love that only a god could give.
—-
Vi wakes up to an empty bed. When she looks around the room, Caitlyn’s things are gone. As she pushes herself up, she finds a note in Caitlyn’s handwriting on the nightstand, and with a trembling hand and blurry eyes, Vi opens it and reads it.
Vi,
I love you, more than anything, than anyone. You’ve given me my freedom. I want to do the same for you. You deserve it. I know you too well now to know you’d never say no to me, in any regard. You’ll always find some excuse to stay with me, to help me navigate this world I’ve never known.
And this bond of ours—the way you look at me. I hate admitting this. I love the way you look at me, the way you are with me, the way you touch me and love me. But I’m also afraid of it. I hate admitting it but a part of me is afraid that you only look at me and love me this way because of this bond between us. I don’t doubt the love you have for me, Vi, but I’m afraid that it’s just one more way in which I’ve chained you to me, against your will. This is what gods do—make people love them, serve them, and it pains me to no end to know you’d sacrifice even more of your life to be with me.
I’m sorry. I’m making a decision for the both of us. You deserve to live your life, free and untethered from gods and priests and those who just want to use you.
I know you love me, Vi. But I don’t know if it’s the god you love or if it’s Caitlyn that you love. That’s an answer that I want to find on my own. I need to find out who this Caitlyn Kiramman really is, and maybe then, and only then, will I be able to understand just what you and I are, truly. Maybe out there, I can find a way to free us from this bond that ties us, find a way to keep myself tethered to this world without having to sacrifice you in turn.
I love you. I’m sorry.
-Caitlyn
—-
Vi expects for Enforcers to raid the Lanes every day after their disappearance, but that doesn’t happen. As hard as Vi tries to keep her presence down here a secret, and her family and their allies make an active effort to pretend she doesn’t exist, Vi’s sure secrets can spill out of these streets as easily as smog and runoff. It’s inevitable that someone from topside will follow a rumor and find her down here. Vi expects it. Vi waits for it.
And yet, no retribution ever comes.
Instead, one day, Vi hears a sharp rap on her bedroom door and she looks up to see Vander standing there.
“You got a visitor, Vi.” He jerks his head. “Backrooms.”
“Is it—?”
“No,” Vander says, and his smile is sad. “But you’ll know ‘er.”
Vi leaves her bedroom and darts up the staircase to the main floor of the Last Drop, before slipping away towards the hallway that leads to the backrooms.
She finds seated in the booth, ankles neatly crossed, shrouded in a cloak, Cassandra Kiramman.
“Vi,” Cassandra says.
“Lady Kiramman, I—”
“Is my daughter happy?”
Vi blinks. That’s not the question she’d expected; she’d expected an interrogation, expected the anger, the rage and wrath of a mother undenying. Instead, Cassandra looks at her with a shine in her eyes that Vi recognizes from Caitlyn; hope.
“I—yeah,” Vi says, nodding. “She’s—she was so, so happy, to be out. I was—I was with her. And then she left me. She’s not here.”
“I assume she separated from you to free you.”
“I—”
“I know my daughter, Vi,” Cassandra says. “I also know she loves you, deeply. She’s never been one to want others to experience the suffering she went through.”
“I…yeah.” Of all the people in the world who would know Caitlyn Kiramman, of course, it’d be her mother.
Vi shifts to another subject, not wanting to feel the hurt and sting of an absence she’s been missing all this time. “Are you the reason Piltover hasn’t come to crush us? I figured—you’d be mad as hell, she’s gone.”
“Good gods, Vi. Surely you know me better than that. I’m not upset at all,” Cassandra says, taken aback. “The priests, though? Yes, to a degree. But the optics are far, far more important to them. They’ve made up a story the past year to justify your absence as, ‘the goddess is in a state of deep meditation with her anchor, and she’s not to be disturbed.’ There’s been a record of this, once before, generations ago. And yet, I have the suspicion…”
“This has happened before.” Dawning realization, and Vi takes a step back, half-laughing. “One of us—they got out, too. They were free, like us.”
“Yes.” Cassandra smiles. “They found a way to freedom, just like you and Caitlyn. And I cannot be more proud.” There’s so much of Cassandra in Caitlyn, and Caitlyn in Cassandra. “Regardless, I’m not here to regale you with the priests’ problems. I wanted to congratulate you, but also to inform you that your presence is slowly becoming noticed. There’s rumors about you. I’d recommend you leave town,” she says, serious. “For a while. And, in that regard, I’ve come to give this to you—and I hope you can convey it to Caitlyn, when the time comes.”
Cassandra holds out a slip of paper, and Vi quickly nabs it and unfolds it. It’s an address, for a home, outside the city, and date range.
“It’s my family’s summer home,” Cassandra says. “My husband and I make a visit there, every year, for a week. You’re welcome to stay there and make it your own home, for as long as you need. Supplies are there, as well, if you’re intent on moving elsewhere afterward. The servants there are loyal to the Kiramman family, and only the Kiramman family. They will not speak of you, or Caitlyn, should you visit, but they will do all in their power to serve you.”
Speechless, Vi looks up, mouth trying to form words.
“If Caitlyn ever returns,” Cassandra says, softer, sadder. “Let her know, her father and I will be there, on that week, every year, so long as we’re able.”
“I’ll tell her,” Vi promises, immediately.
“Thank you.” With a bow of her head, Cassandra stands up and offers Vi one last, sad, small, smile. “I hope I’ll be seeing you again, Vi. Thank you, for saving my daughter.”
—-
“How do you like the Freljord?”
It’s taken Vi a long time to travel this far. Even longer, it feels, to walk up this fucking mountain. Her legs and back are sore from carrying just the gear to get up this far, but it’d been worth it all the same.
When Caitlyn turns, Vi sees that the years have touched her mortal body, but there’s still that immortal shine to her gaze, blue made vast, infinite, the skies and heavens there in those all-knowing, and all-seeing eyes.
“It’s a lovely place,” Caitlyn answers with a smile. Her voice—it’s the slightest touch deeper. She’s grown older, wiser. “I missed you,” she adds softly.
“I know. Felt it, every second, of every day.” Vi comes to stand at Caitlyn’s side, and her hand flexes at her side but she doesn’t touch Caitlyn just yet.
Caitlyn crosses the line first. She reaches a hand up, and brushes her thumb against Vi’s cheek. “This place—Vi, this whole place. It’s incredible. The legends and myths here aren’t the tall tales that they seem.” Then, Caitlyn perks up. “I wanted to tell you. I’ve met a few gods, actually. They’ve given me some advice.”
“Good advice, I hope?” Vi asks.
“There’s a way, Vi,” Caitlyn says. “For me to remain on this world, without binding you to me. Another ritual, so to speak.”
“But?” Vi asks, already knowing the answer.
“There’s a chance it might not work,” Caitlyn says, biting her lip. “I—that’s what I wanted to tell you. I could die. We could unbind ourselves, but I might—I might not make it.”
“You won’t. You won’t die,” Vi says immediately, adamant. She reaches out, places her hands on Caitlyn’s hips, feeling just how solid and real Caitlyn is underneath her palms.
“You can’t guarantee that, Vi. There’s risk to this.”
“We’ve pulled off a miracle before,” Vi says. “We can do it again, Cait. And then you’re really gonna fucking know I love you for you, Cait, and some god magic was never gonna be the reason why I love you and your big blue head.”
Caitlyn snorts, then bursts out laughing, making a grin break out across Vi’s face too.
“I’ve missed you, and all your scathing words,” Caitlyn says, reaching up and cupping Vi’s face. “In all my travels, no one’s ever quite managed to match your wit, Vi.”
“I’m one-of-a-kind, babe.”
“So you are,” Caitlyn says, the affection in her heart overflowing. She then reaches down and grabs Vi’s hand, tugging her along as she turns and continues down the path. “Now, walk with me. I’ll explain along the way how we’re to do this, and how this will work. So, we’ll need to—”