Ink & Ashes // Arcane Fanfiction Viktor x Reader

18

You awoke almost immediately after fainting to Viktor nervously shaking your shoulder. You sat up slowly, blinked away the flashing lights from your vision, and allowed yourself to be pulled to your feet by him. There seemed to be an uneasy haze to the world. Everything seemed not real or too real. Either shifting and uncertain, or stark and overwhelming.

It was in what was almost a trance that you somehow managed to make it back to Piltover. Looking back on it all, you could only remember fleeting snippets and sensations: uneven breaths coming hoarse from your throat; pot-holed cobbles beneath your feet; Viktor's firm grip keeping you upright; a hot, sticky feeling clinging to the back of your neck.

You came to your senses just as you crossed the bridge connecting the two halves of the city. By then the adrenaline had worn off, and the pain was beginning to set in. The blow to the back of your head throbbed in time to your heartbeat, along with the bruise to your temple.

Every spot seemed to suddenly be a very appealing resting point; the side of the pavement, a low stone wall. Still, every time you slowed, Viktor gave your arm an impatient yet encouraging squeeze. Some part of you managed to will your legs forwards, forwards, forwards, bribed with the promise of something more.

It was nearing midday now, and the streets were gradually growing busy. Viktor attempted avoid the crowds by taking quieter routes, but nowhere was completely devoid of prying passersby. Even in your borderline delirious state, you knew to keep your head bowed to avoid curious glances.

That, and you were pretty sure you'd throw up if you moved any more than necessary.

You managed to catch glimpses of yourself reflection in shop windows as you passed by. The reflection that stared back was seemed far from the person you had been only hours before. A stranger. Dazed, bruised and wide-eyed.

"Not much further," Viktor assured every so often, when your pace grew slack, when your steps began to falter. "We're nearly back."

Each time you managed no more than a weak hum in reply. Speaking would definitely result in your vomiting. Or crying. Or both. You'd rather drop dead on the spot.

Despite his encouraging words, the distance to wherever he was taking you - his house, you realized as you began to recognize the streets and buildings - seemed infinitely further than before. You were sore-footed and close to keeling over when the familiar white-blue building finally came into view.

You rested your forehead against the sun-warmed wood of the door, taking a moment to steady your breathing, as Viktor fumbled through his pockets in search for the key. It was a pleasant day, weather-wise. Not noticably hot, but warm enough to not need a coat. In the midst of summer, sunny days lost the novelty they held in winter. If you hadn't been busy pissing off drunkards and getting your ass beat in the Undercity, you probably would've been going for a nice walk around about then. 

But you weren't.

"What was that thing you said earlier?" you said, then cleared your throat. It was the first time you'd spoken more than one word on the whole journey, and your voice had grown rough. The very effort of speaking seemed to suck the very air from your chest, making everything feel as though you were moving through treacle.

Viktor blinked, hand paused midway between him and the keyhole. "What?"

"Y'know, that bad joke," you prompted. "'The Grim Reaper and a mad scientist go into the Undercity', that one." You exhaled a short laugh. It came out more of a groan. "Ironic. I didn't know you were into prophecies." 

It took him a moment to realize what you were implying. He shut his eyes, rubbing a hand across his brow. "You're not going to die, Y/N. It's just a-" The look he cast at your forehead finished his sentence for him. Creased brow. Darkened eyes. You were glad you couldn't see the bump yourself.