Chapter Text
Lux resists the urge to tug at her collar where the starch scrapes against the soft of her neck.
It’s not a particularly warm day, but she’s quickly realized she’s not used to the hot blasts of air that surge through Piltover and Zaun at any given time. Every alley and backstreet thick with steam and smoky fumes as it were, billowing clouds pouring from top to bottom factories tirelessly throughout the day.
Invention, production, progress - these were the siphons that generated the vindictive heat that pulsed all around them now at the edge of Zaun’s west-side drop off.
It doesn't help that she’s in full dress for the ceremony. She’s donned a fitted single-breasted jacket for the occasion; the garment having been tailored with the signature Crowngaurd white facings and gold edging along the cuff slashes. And the emblem of Demacia and her family crest are bolded clearly at the shoulder, whereupon a dashing blue sash guard and plaited aiguillette fixes across her body and meets neatly at the seam. Her marble white gloves had been a gift from her family, and Lux resists the urge to itch at the hot skin just under the fabric.
A final finish to the outfit was a thin pleated sword belt that wrapped snugly across the circle of her waist where the weight of her sword hung faithfully. Lux reached down discreetly and ran a thumb over the Crowngaurd insignia at the cross guard - a banded singlet crown nested in bay-leafed laurels - and she felt immediately warmed by its touch. It was truthfully the only real possession she’d been allowed to take with her and she w as glad for its company now in a strange land’s halls.
The uniform was a prideful thing - a standard fit for a decorated Demacian first lieutenant. She thought that gratuitous seeing as she’d lost the right to wear such things when she fell custody to the mage-seeker corps. The exception was no doubt her mother’s influence, perhaps even her aunt.
Though it hardly mattered. She doubts the royal family would bother to raise arms over a technicality of this nature. It would not do well to advertise their hypocrisies in lauding a magic wielder by dressing her up in the ebony ribboned cloak or petricite bracings - the matter was thoroughly well known to all as it was and any more attention would be masochistic at that point. No, it was much easier to just get rid of her quietly and discreetly, without fuss and with as minimal scandal as possible. But if she could manage it, the alliance incurred by this simple act of service for her nation may yet win her some lonesome award of forgiveness for her impurities.
Still, second lieutenant would've been more believable - if not easier to swallow.
Lux thought to herself as she pulled once at the snug fitted fabric over her palms. The lining itched annoyingly at the threading between her fingers, and it flared an aching burn within her. She wrung them once and digging to alleviate the burn through the stifled muffling material.
The sanctioned Lightbringer ordaining the proceedings presently stood mounted at the pulpit, reciting observances and liturgy, customs of assorted proprieties, and a yards-length list of rites Lux was certain she knew at one point. But now, each memory slipped away as she tried to recall which vow or Aspect was supposed to seal her fate in front of the great amassed assembly. The ceremony itself, for all its pomp and garbled glamour, passed over her as easily as a brook over stone.
She looked down at her left hand and considered the fine fabric belt tied around her arm over her covered hand. The rich threaded silk felt cool against the back of her wrist as she stood afront the amassed assembly. Its long trendling length wrapping lightly until the excess draped and pooled over to the ground and onto the limestone flagstones beneath their feet.
The material it was made from was the color of Demacia’s proud royal blues. And if studied closely one would see the work was boldly stitched along the hem with depictions of the great Demacian heroes:
The bastion guardian Galio,
a great raptor mount perching the aerie,
the shining Halls of Valor where their legacy lay in ivory and long lining columns of petricite.
Her eyes then drew to the fine edging on the other belt as the Demacian pattern gave way to meet its sister sash of violet and moss. The shimmering purple fabric was elegantly adorned with delicate ivy embroidery that ran down the entire length of the garment. And Lux remarked on the fine quality of the stitching weave. The detail alone made it a beautiful work to admire, but she found herself fixated on the deep purple patterns that seemed to dance and change under her hand as she observed it.
The vining stitch slowly wound down her partner's arm, linking them together as the colors blended in a beautiful assortment of cool, dewy hues.
“Do you accept each other, under the Aspects and in light of Aurelion Sol, to be bound together in unity and loyalty ’til death separates you?” The Lightbringer’s voice resounded across the great hall. It echoed slightly against the glass panes, and all seemed to silence under the heavy cloak of auspiciousness.
Lux braced the invisible handle of courage within and raised her eyes. She was immediately taken by the shocking luminescent shine burning back at her.
A twinge pulled at her gut like a snare wire whipped forth from inside her. The subtle glow of refracting light appeared to emanate from the root of two winking shining irises. The unnatural pink colored eyes flaring - like, a star? - Like purple fire. Seething ire - Lux felt a prickle of something stirring and rising within her as she looked into the most uncanny impossible eyes she had ever seen.
The mad dog of Zaun.
The Princess of the Underworld.
Jinx.
She did not strike Lux as the charismatic revolutionary paved throughout the murals and lauded aside purple banners throughout the streets. If anything the serene and inspired depictions raked across Piltover and Zaun painted a harsh contrast to the young girl Lux stood opposite from now. She was jagged, skeptical, keen, and sharp in all the places someone weathered and wearied would hold the strain across their hackles. And yet there was still at once something youthful about her as Lux peered slightly down her chin at those veral resigned eyes.
She is hyper aware of her counterpart’s gaze piercing into her as she eventually found her voice.
So ever so lightly, she held steady to the bird wing wrist lashed to hers and willed her palms not to sweat through her gloves (she doesn’t want to make a bad first impression, after all).
“I do.”
Jinx held the connection a moment longer, a bare whisper of trepidation appearing to pinch her brow just before those simmering pink eyes broke away and down to the floor.
The sound that fell from her mouth was as quiet and fleeting as a death knoll.
“Yes”
…
Their eyes did not meet again as the Lightbringer laid a single hand above their heads and the other across their intertwined hands.
“I now pronounce you one in the eyes of Jana.”
And just like that, the petricite cuff that spelled Crowngaurd was shattered and broken across the floor. No indication of impression or scarring left to mar her skin as its final pieces pinged across the floor like ice chips across a frigid surface.
Lux moved to unwrap the fabric of the Demacian belt from their hands, her fingers deftly working the material until it fell free and she was able to rest the threading around Jinx’s neck like a garland. It draped loosely, cascading like a pair of braids that framed Jinx's blue shockful of hair which hung open and wild around her. The shimmering silver stitching caught the light and casted a glowing shine across her lady wife’s dim and washed expression.
Jinx reciprocated by slowly laying the Zaunite belt across Lux’s shoulders. And Lux afforded a glance down to the purple fabric as it settled across her body, the fine thread work twisting and curling vividly in the fading light.
She took a breath. This next part would be difficult.
Her hand felt like a leaden weight as she lifted it tepidly to her side and grasped the hilt of her sword. The leather hand guard fitting the grooves in a familiar embrace as she unsheathed the singing blade from the scabbard to open crystal air.
It was a dazzling piece to look upon. As it flared into the space between them Lux had no doubt Silverwind’s sweeping arc caught the eyes of all the guests, Demacian and Zaunite alike. The cut was of a special blend of curated material, resulting in a distinct silver sheen finish that was trademark of the Crownguard line. Cerium blue warbled and weaved through the layers of steel like a geode stone, which lended the blade a subtle sky lined tint along its edge.
She held the blade lovingly, regarding it with as much impassiveness as she could afford while resting the edge lightly on the back of her forearm as she extended it outward.
Lux felt its weight ease away from her hands as Jinx lifted the blade, like a part of her drawn forth from her body in a single pulling motion.
She thought it cruel that it was Demacia’s tradition to exchange House weapons upon a union. The belts had been a Zaunite rite, and Lux would've been satisfied to leave it at that. However, she also knew it taboo to have ignored her own homeland’s traditions, the cursed importance of perfection bearing down on her like a cloud of brooding insistence.
She had little time to process the sudden emptiness she felt before Jinx had turned aside and received something from someone nearby. When she returned, Lux found her hands occupied by a small rectangular tortoiseshell case which she held forward at a slight angle.
Jinx opened its easing latch to reveal a small handgun, set on a richly velvet offset of violet fuzz.
It was a compact weapon, no longer than her own hand, making it a simple piece to handle. Its metallic surface was lacquered with fresh polish while the grip was wrapped in a textured leather, and as she peered closely she could see a series of engraved motifs depicting Zaunite folklore decorated along the barrel.
Jinx's fingers traced along the sleek contours as she plucked it from the box and held it out, a quiet reserved countenance pulling over her features as she waited.
Lux received it as gracefully as she could manage.
The weight was astonishingly well balanced when she finally felt the gun in her hands. She had never handled such a weapon before, so she had expected a brutish deadened heave to its wield - like a rock or stone to harbor her down on seeing it. But the gun held a rather sleek quick handle which lended a unique presence in her hand. It almost seemed to hum.
On closer inspection the muzzle was slightly flared on a focal conductor, giving it a unique aesthetic that contrasted with its otherwise utilitarian design. Lux’s eyes trailed across the side until they caught sight of the inner chamber compartment which was encased by a clear metal panel. The catch appeared to pulsate with a skittering keening energy. Within was the heart of the weapon’s burning electric core - a swirling mass of electric arcs that crackled and sparked with lacing tendrils of charged power. It looked like electric blue fire - simmering singing lightning rocketing inside like a concealed comet shower. Lux blinked, she had never known a contraption such as a gun to harbor the kind of power she presently held. To wield something so similar to what felt like - magic.
When she looked back up at Jinx, she found the other girl had already turned away as a soft crash of applause washed over them like a foamy breaking wave.
_____
The reception wound down with the stiffness of a diplomatic summit, the air thick with unspoken calculations and the tension. The guests in attendance were from all different sorts of nations: among the Zaunite and Demacian parties there also came faces from Piltover and Ionia, Ixtal and Shurima. There are even a few Noxians in attendance; clad in their dark militaristic finery, they carried themselves with an uncommon restraint.
The shadow of Zaun's recent declaration of independence loomed heavy, unspoken but palpable. Guests took their leave in staggered waves, each departure punctuated by murmured pleasantries as eyes lingered on the shifting fragile balance of the evening.
Lux stood apart from it all, accompanied on either side by an impressively sized brute marked with great bolded tattoos of Zaunite stylings. She glanced minutely at the bulking hand of the bodyguard to her left and saw the depiction of a leering woeful eye yawning up at her from the length where the thumb met the rest of his hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d been treated as a security hazard, of course. The mage-seekers had seen to that. But it was the first time her keepers had such an air of…severity.
She managed to guard her expression with a curling uneasiness before averting her gaze. They would be departing soon, and the ongoing nightmare playing out in vivid detail before her would cease for a time.
She looked at the river. It flowed sluggishly down the straight, its murky waters tinged with sloughed waste and littered with shiny rainbows of iridescent oil blots across its surface. It cut a winding pattern through the earth, slicing a great divide between the two banks that marked the beginning of Piltover and Zaun.
The surface section of Zaun technically rose just above the water line at its highest point. But even then it was a short compact mid-district that occupied a bare length of the shore. The rest of the riverbank was dominated by Piltover’s borders, extending all the way to the towering outline of the Sun Gate where the structure stood stark against the horizon line far down straight.
Lux watched as the towering structure crowned the open waters, its intricate machinery and imposing design standing as a testament to the engineer’s ingenuity. Glistening in the sunlight, it had an aura of stoic grandeur and imperial presence.
As Lux observed it she caught sense of someone watching her. The prickle of it shivered up her spine, and she lifted her head to see a rigidly built woman - square-shouldered, sharp-faced watching her from the open doored gallery. She wasn’t particularly wiry or thinned like she’d come to associate with the typical Zaunite physique, but was well muscled and angularly built. Though she had an eaten lean aspect about her that spoke of long hunger and callus resolve. Their eyes met, and the woman’s expression softened into a sad thoughtfulness.
Before Lux is certain of whether or not she is going to approach her, her vision is abruptly obstructed by a tall broad figure imposed in the line of her sight. The newcomer easily towered her, clothed in earthly base tones and a copper bandolier slung across their chest, they also bore a red embroidered cape with fine gold hemming draped across the body. It sloped down one shoulder to cover her left side and Lux could see that it was a prosthetic arm - bolted and comprised together of copper and complex chemtech design.
Lux recognized her immediately. Silco’s right hand had stood practically glued to Jinx’s side throughout the ceremony with leering combing eyes that had surveyed the attending congregation balefully from beginning to end. Yet Lux had gotten the impression she was sardonically satisfied throughout the entire proceedings, though from what source she couldn’t tell.
They stood there a moment, the taller imposing woman observing her with a mildly disdainful look. And if she could guess, a touch of smugness. The tight upturned lip quirked amusedly on a fine cruel edge and made Lux steady herself internally to tighten her guard.
Sevika just smiled dismissively and looked away, satisfied.
“Tough break, Crownguard.” Her voice was rough like the grizzled bearance of someone used to the force of labour. But Lux found it a familiar tone that reminded her of the more senior warriors from her time in Silvermere, and her interest piqued as her assigned guards seemed to fall into place at her presence. Her eyes looked her up and down once and quick before she gestured towards the waiting bathysphere where the president of Zaun and her newlywed no doubt awaited in the carriage.
“Better get used to ‘em.”
Lux caught Sevika's indicative signal and hesitated, casting a quick lingering glance beyond the woman’s mechanical arm. But the stranger was gone - vanished, without a trace. Her mind raced with questions and doubts as she tried to make sense of the odd encounter. But Silco’s security detail was waiting, and Lux was far too drained from the events of the day to linger on it any longer. What she wanted was a secluded space and a dark room to embrace her without the pry of judgment to stir the already muddied waters. So with a measure of resignation and a quiet sense of resolve, she stepped past Sevika and made towards the great descent.