#acane jinx

[art-of-arcane]

Behind the Scenes Arcane Photos

[keiosity]

SWEETEST POISON | SILCO

part one, part two, PART THREE

SUMMARY: You didn't expect to have your life turned upside down, in the best way possible, after Silco finally claims you as his. And soon, you will finally be his queen.

CONTENT: Domestic bliss, fluff and smut, found family, mentions of hallucinating and self-harm (from Jinx), and ofc the "wedding"

Peaceful even.

Life with Silco was unexpectedly quiet.

The transition from the bustling, smoke-lit haze of Madam Babette's brothel to the shadowed sanctity of Silco's domain above the Last Drop had been swift, almost dreamlike. Never in your life expected to be in this situation. Your old life in the brothel only let you have a glimpse of what luxury and freedom was, but now, here in Silco’s home, you were able to experience both without any pressure or fear.

One moment, you were back in the brothel to ask the Madam if you could quit the life of a prostitute in exchange for freedom. The next, Sevika had arrived with a pouch heavy with coins and a simple directive.

“Pack your things. You're done here.”

Silco had bought out your contract, claiming you as his own without fanfare or negotiation. You didn’t believe it at first, but when Madam Babette hadn't protested, you realized that you were truly free. Silco was serious about what he said, and the proof was right in front of you.

She'd only smiled, patting your leg, and whispered.

“Take care of him, dear. He needs someone like you in his life.”

In the end, the Madam didn’t even accept the pouch of coins. She handed it to Sevika instead, and told her to keep it for the next time she visited. You didn’t miss the way a slight smirk surfaced on the woman’s lips. You only packed what you could after Sevika told you to carry only the things that mattered.

“Silco will handle the rest.”

Of course, he would. You didn’t expect anything less from him.

Afterwards, she escorted you back to the Last Drop carrying most of your things. And during the walk, you had to grapple with the fact that everything was real. You were going to live a new life. A life with the most powerful and dangerous man in Zaun. Were you truly prepared for that kind of change? Would you learn to love the man who promised you to be his queen after only meeting twice? Was this a good idea to begin with?

You did admit.

Everything felt so rushed.

Not in the bad way that you’d expect, but still, you can’t help but process everything that has happened between the two of you.

You still didn’t know him well. 

That was the truth. 

However, from those two unexpected meetings from him, you were able to see more of his character than any other client you had. The raw vulnerability, the longing masked in possession, and the tender way he held you when you thought he would’ve done the opposite. But perhaps in time, you will learn the rest of his character and how to love every side of him. Including the bad ones, of course that was still a part of him.

Now, you found yourself in a world that felt both alien and intimately familiar. 

Silco's quarters were a stark contrast to your old room. Spacious, austere, with high ceilings that echoed the faint hum of Zaun's underbelly below. And the moment you stepped inside, you breathed in the traces of his scent lingering in the air. It carried the faint tang of cigar smoke and a rich liquor, mingled with the crisp scent of his cologne that now clung to your skin like a second shadow. 

Your little time of appreciation didn’t last long, when you felt his lithe arms circling around your waist from behind. 

Then, you heard that familiar drawl of his voice in your ear. 

“Is the bed to your liking, my dear?”

When you said yes, breathlessly, you were whisked away towards the softest mattress and velvet sheets you’ve ever felt in your life. The whole afternoon was spent with him showing you how perfectly soft his king sized bed was, and how easily it was to fall asleep after you melted from exhaustion.

Gradually, your belongings had been integrated seamlessly. The few dresses from your brothel days hung alongside the new ones he immediately purchased after you moved in. As well as his tailored vests and suits in the shared wardrobe, and your trinkets scattered on a dresser that once held only his vials and papers. 

It was as if you'd always been here, slotted into his life like a missing puzzle piece.

The adjustment came in waves, some gentle, others crashing like the toxic fumes rising from the fissures. Mornings were the easiest. Waking to the dim green glow filtering through the massive window behind his desk, Silco's arm draped possessively over your waist. He'd stir before dawn, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before slipping away to tend to the empire that never slept. 

“Stay in bed, my love.” He'd murmur, his voice a low rumble that sent warmth pooling in your chest. “Zaun can wait a little longer.” 

But you rarely did, rising instead to explore your new home, tracing fingers over the maps pinned to the walls or the hardbound books stacked on shelves. This was no longer a fleeting act. It was real, and the weight of it both thrilled and unnerved you.

The days blurred into a rhythm of quiet domesticity. Slowly but surely, you introduced more of the staff working in the bar. Others grew to accept you, though some were still wary. Of course, Silco also insisted you accompany him on lighter errands, overseeing Shimmer distributions from afar or attending Chem-Baron meetings as his silent observer, your presence a subtle statement of power. 

“You will be my wife,” He said, intertwining his fingers through yours. “And soon, my queen. They need to see that.”

You nodded, heart fluttering, but the stares from his underlings—Sevika's amused smirks, the wary glances from thugs who'd heard whispers of your past—reminded you of the chasm between your old life and this one. 

Were you truly fitting in, or just another poison in his arsenal?

Soon, Silco told you about his eye as well as the discolored scar that hid beneath the cosmetic powder. How he managed to get the scar, the story behind it, and the betrayal that lingered. And soon, you helped him with administering his Shimmer dose. It made you nervous the first time, your hands trembled as you held the shot across his left eye. He placed his own on top of yours after he noticed, told you he trusted you with it, and let you go with a small nod.

After that, it became a small routine whenever he asked. 

But sometimes, Silco asked for someone else.

Jinx.

Silco had warned you about her from the start, his tone a rare mix of pride and caution. 

“She's brilliant, but unpredictable. Give her time.”

Your first encounter came unannounced.

A chaotic burst of blue hair and manic energy dropping from the ceiling beams one afternoon while you were alone in the office, arranging fresh flowers you'd insisted on bringing in to soften the space. 

“Who are you?” She demanded, perched on the desk like a feral cat, her eyes—wide, electric, cerulean—scrutinizing you from head to toe. “Silco's new toy? Or are you here to play mommy?”

You froze, but only for a moment, remembering Silco's advice.

“I’m not here to harm you or Silco,” You replied steadily, meeting her gaze with a small smile. “And if you'll let me, I'd like to get to know you too.” 

Jinx had only scoffed, a sound that echoed like shattering glass, before flipping backward and vanishing up into the beams. It wasn't hostility exactly, just testing you. Over the following days, she'd appear sporadically. Leaving doodles on your things, a bomb sketched next to your name, swiping your snacks, or hovering silently while you read. Adjustment for her was slower, a push-pull of curiosity and wariness, but you'd caught her smiling once when you complimented one of her gadgets.

There was one time where you decided to hang around the bar at night. Just to see what kind of atmosphere the Last Drop would bring at those hours. You were sitting on the bar, lightly conversing with Thieram while Sevika kept you in her line of sight from her booth. 

You remembered being approached by another man, an overconfident drunk who thought he could just lay a hand on you and invade your space.

He came up from behind with a wide drunken grin and breath so foul it made you wince. 

“Aren’t ya a new face?” The man slurred, leaning towards you with a leering stare. “A pretty one too. Care for a drink, princess?”

You only blinked, already familiar with these kinds of men from your time at the brothel.

“I already have one,” You gestured to your glass. “So, please leave me alone.”

“C’mon, just one drink?”

“I already refused.”

“It won't hurt–”

“Heads up!”

You blinked when another voice cut in.

From above, something bounced off of the man's chest. He caught it in his hands, then gasped when a ticking monkey with a pink painted smile greeted him. One of Jinx’s handiwork. You watched him stumble back, about to drop the ticking bomb.

You heard Jinx again, as if she was right next to your ear.

“Close your eyes.”

You snapped them shut.

The bomb exploded in blue and pink sparks, catching everyone's attention. When it finally dissipated, the man was on the floor. Hands over his eyes, yelling in shock and pain, as Sevika made her way towards him. A flash grenade, one of her new inventions. Then, you heard the echoes of familiar giggling upstairs.

Progress, however small.

It was one afternoon when you found yourself waiting for Silco in his room when the door bursted open, and a familiar fourteen-year-old girl came dashing inside with a slam behind.

You only glanced up from your book, seeing Jinx standing there with her arms crossed and her head hung low. Ah, it was one of those days again. Recently, the young girl would show up unannounced to interrogate you about personal questions about her father. Mostly curious ones, though there were a few that raised the hair on your skin at the underlying threat in her voice.

By now, you have grown used to her sudden appearances.

No matter how terrifying they could be at times.

“Jinx,” You set the book down, smiling softly. “How are you? Have you eaten yet?”

She didn't answer.

Instead she launched herself across the room in three frantic strides and crashed into you.

Her thin arms locked around your waist, face burying hard against your chest. The impact knocked the breath out of you. The book thumped forgotten to the floor. For a heartbeat you froze. The first proper contact you received since you moved in was a hug. You could almost cry in joy from the moment, almost joking to her how she and her father shared the same habits of surprising you. 

Until you felt it. 

The tremor running through her whole body, the hot, wet press of tears soaking through your blouse.

She was crying.

Not the theatrical, explosive sobs she sometimes used for performance. These were small, choked, desperate sounds, like something inside her had finally cracked open and couldn’t stop leaking.

Your arms came around her automatically, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other smoothing slow circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Hey,” You whispered, voice soft as you could make it. “Hey, I’ve got you.”

She clung tighter, fingers twisting into the fabric at your back.

“I’m here,” You murmured, pressing your cheek to the top of her head. “I won’t leave.”

The words had barely left your mouth before she stiffened.

Her breathing hitched, sharp and ragged, and then she jerked back just enough to look up at you. Her pupils were blown, eyes glassy and unfocused, darting to corners of the room where you saw nothing.

“You will,” She rasped, voice cracking. “You will. They always do. Everyone does. Powder. Gone. Vander. Gone. Vi–” Her voice cracked on the name like glass. “They all leave. They leave me. You’re gonna leave too. You’re gonna leave like the rest of them–”

She began thrashing in your arms, trying to escape your hug. But you held her tighter, not letting her break free from your embrace. She resisted, rambling about how everyone eventually leaves her. How no one truly stayed. Everyone will die because of her. Because she was a jinx and you'll leave too in the end. It was the first time you witnessed her act like this, and it tore your heart even more at the sight.

Be patient with her. Don't turn her away.

Silco's words echoed in your mind, forcing you to snap out of your thoughts. 

You firmly took her wrists once you noticed she started slapping her fists at the sides of her head, before you brought them down on your lap. But she struggled against you again, her breathing coming a little faster and you were worried she might pass out from it.

She returned to slapping the side of her head—hard, open-palmed smacks that made you flinch from every hit.

“Shut up shut up shut up–” She hissed at the empty air. “I know, I know, she’s lying. She’s gonna run! She’s gonna run too–”

Your heart twisted so violently it hurt.

But you didn’t pull away. 

You didn’t flinch from the wildness in her eyes. Instead you gathered her closer again, wrapping both arms around her small, shaking frame, one hand gently but firmly catching her wrist to stop the blows.

“Jinx,” You said, low and steady. “Look at me. Just look at me.”

She fought for a second then sagged, the fight bleeding out of her in shuddery gasps. You rocked her slowly, the same way you’d once soothed yourself on the worst nights at Babette’s when the loneliness visited you.

“Breathe with me,” You whispered. “In… out… slow. I’m right here. Feel my heartbeat? I’m not going anywhere.”

It took some time—long, aching minutes—before the frantic rhythm of her breathing began to match yours. The slapping stopped. The voices, whatever they were saying, seemed to recede. Her wild gaze slowly refocused on your face instead of the ghosts around you.

When she was quiet enough, you brushed damp blue strands from her forehead.

“Want to tell me what happened?” You asked gently.

She swallowed. Looked down at where her fingers still clutched your shirt like a lifeline.

“Bad day,” She muttered, still sniffling. “Everything was loud. The voices wouldn’t shut up. Said you were gonna disappear. Said Silco was gonna get tired of me. Said–” 

She stopped, throat working. “Said I’m too much. Always too much. And– And–”

You kept stroking her hair, slow and even.

“I get it,” You said quietly. “More than you know.”

She peeked up at you, wary and confused. “You do?”

You took a breath.

“I was abandoned too. Too young to even remember my parents’ faces. Left on a doorstep in the Lanes like trash nobody wanted. No one looked for me. No one cared. I was cold, hungry, and scared. Until Babette found me. She didn’t have to take me in. She could’ve walked past. But she didn’t. She gave me a roof, food, a name. She gave me a family when I didn’t have one.”

Jinx’s eyes were huge, glistening.

“So I know what it feels like,” You continued. “To think everyone’s just biding their time until they leave. But I’m telling you right now, I’m not them. I’m not leaving. Not you. Not Silco. Not this weird, messy, beautiful thing we’re building. I’m going to be part of this family. Your family. And I’m going to stay. Even on the days when it’s loud. Even when it’s too much. Especially then.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, slowly, Jinx uncurled her fingers from your shirt… only to slide her arms around your waist again. This time she didn’t squeeze like she was afraid you’d vanish. She just rested there, cheek against your collarbone, listening to your heartbeat.

She sniffed, nuzzling closer. “The voices are quieter now.”

You smiled, wiping her tears from her cheeks. “Good.”

“You’re really not gonna go?”

“No, I'm really not.”

A tiny, shaky exhale that might’ve been a laugh. “Okay. But if you do, I’m blowing up all your favorite dresses.”

You smiled into her hair. “Deal.”

She stayed like that for a long time—small, warm, finally still—while the green light outside shifted and the distant rumble of Zaun carried on without you.

And for the first time since you’d arrived in this strange new life, you felt like you truly belonged in it.

Hours later, Silco arrived back from another meeting with the Chembarons and visited the Topside to pay another word to Marcus. His usual pristine composure cracked once he entered his room, drawing a long breath through his nose before releasing it in a heavy exhale.

When his gaze finally lifted, he froze.

There in his bed, usually empty—save for Jinx random afternoon naps there—he saw you and his daughter sleeping. Hugging each other close. Blankets drawn over your bodies. You have her on your chest, cheek pressed above your heart, with your arm curled around her side in a protective embrace. Something curled beneath his chest. Something he never should’ve felt after all the things he’s done. Something he didn’t even deserve to see and have in his home.

Mysteriously, the exhaustion that weighed on his shoulders vanished.

He carefully walked towards the side of the bed, right where you slept, gently drifting his knuckles along your cheek once he neared you. You stirred, breath catching in a slow inhale, before you eased again. The way you leaned against his touch was subconscious, but it still brought a rare smile on his face. 

His perfect girls. Finally together.

When he peered closer, he noticed the dried tear streaks across Jinx’s cheeks, her loose hair, and the way she clung to you deep in her sleep.

He tensed, glancing at you. 

Still asleep. Still at peace.

He pieced it together. 

Jinx willingly came to you during her episodes. She came to you because he wasn’t around to help her. And you did what he has done since the time he took her in. You accepted her. Right here in your arms, keeping her close as though she was always welcomed there. As your daughter.  That feeling in his chest grew, warm and dangerous, and it made him pause.

He recognized it then. 

This was something he’d protect. Something he will never abandon nor neglect. As long as he lives, he’ll protect this sight from all the dangers in the world with all his strength. And when the time was right, he’d give you more—anything you wanted just as long as you’d stay here with them.

Silco leaned down, pressing his lips on your temple. “Thank you.”

Then, he stepped back to leave the two of you in peace. But before he could open the door, he was stopped.

“Silco?” You mumbled quietly, voice still touched by sleep. “You’re leaving again?”

Glancing at his shoulder, Silco saw you looking at him—half-lidded and beautiful—and nodded.

“I still have more work to finish,” The disappointment was evident in his tone, so was the frown in your face. “Go back to sleep, my dear. I’ll join you once I’m done.”

You stroke Jinx’s hair, lifting the covers lightly. “Come to bed, my love. Zaun can wait.”

For a heartbeat he didn’t move. The words hung between you. He almost thought he was the one sleeping, dreaming of something his heart has always desired but has never chased—something he had once before.

Then, without a word, he let go of the knob.

The coat slid from his shoulders and was draped over the back of a chair. The tie followed, unclipped and discarded. Boots toed off. He moved with the same intention he always did, calculated and precise, but there was something different in it now.

Softer. Slower. As if too much movement can ruin the moment.

He slid beneath the covers on your other side, the mattress dipping under his weight. You turned slightly toward him, still cradling Jinx, and he mirrored the motion until his chest pressed lightly to your back, one arm sliding around your waist to rest over both of you. His hand found yours beneath the blanket, fingers threaded together, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles over your knuckles.

Jinx stirred faintly at the new warmth, mumbling something incoherent before burrowing closer to you with a small, contented sigh. 

Silco’s breath ghosted against the nape of your neck, then steadied.

For once, the city could wait.

He closed his eye, the scarred one forever opened, watching over you both in the dark like a shadow. And in the hush that followed, with Jinx’s soft snores and the steady rhythm of Silco’s heartbeat against your spine, the three of you slept—tangled, unbroken, and, for the first time in a very long while, whole.

The days that followed settled into a new, unexpected rhythm. 

When Silco was gone—swallowed by meetings, negotiations, or the endless grind of holding the Undercity together—you and Jinx became inseparable. It started off small. Her lingering longer in the mornings instead of vanishing into the vents the moment his footsteps faded down the hall. Then she began dragging you along on her private adventures, the ones she’d never shared with anyone else.

“Come on,” She’d say, grabbing your hand with surprising gentleness. “You gotta see this before Sevika looks for us”

She showed you her hiding spots first, places even Sevika didn’t know about. 

A forgotten maintenance tunnel behind the old cannery that opened into a cavern glittering with bioluminescent fungi. A rooftop perch above the Promenade where the chem-smog thinned just enough to glimpse real stars on rare clear nights. A derelict airship husk half-buried in the Sump, its rusted hull now her personal armory and art gallery. 

She’d talk nonstop while she showed you, rambling about bomb schematics and complaining about dumb gravity while demonstrating how to hot-wire a hover-platform with nothing but a hairpin and spite. Every so often she’d glance at you sideways, checking if you were still listening. 

You always were.

One afternoon she appeared in your doorway wearing Piltover clothes. Long white sleeves, a dark petticoat skirt, a ridiculous hat on her head where she kept her distinguishing blue hair hidden.

You didn't bother asking where she got it. Only lifted an eyebrow in question and smiled at her.

“Field trip!” She announced loudly, tossing you a dark blue prairie dress and a golden laced corset. Piltover’s colors. “We’re going topside. Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered.”

You should have said no. 

You didn’t.

Dressed like Piltover citizens, you followed her through back ways until you emerged blinking into the bright daylight of the Entresol level. Jinx moved like she owned the promenade—strutting, twirling, waving at everyone she passed by. When a nobleman in a pinstriped suit tried to sidle up to you with a compliment and a wandering hand, Jinx was there in an instant.

“Touch her again,” She said sweetly, smiling up at him. “And I burn your fancy coat. Got it?”

The man paled and vanished into the crowd. Jinx just grinned at you, proud as a cat with a fresh kill, then linked arms and pulled you toward an ice-cream cart. 

“See? I’ve got your back.”

When you came home alone that night, after Jinx strayed to drop off her new “toys” she swiped from a few vendors to her hideout, you visited Silco's office to say hello. His gaze flickered up, saw you in that dress, and flashed a dangerous spark that sent heat across your spine.

He only told you to come in and lock the door.

You didn't leave his office after an hour. Skin flushed, skirts ruffled, stumbling as you walked, new marks on your neck that you needed to find an excuse to Jinx.

She definitely knew what they were.

From then on, she became fiercely protective. If a vendor shortchanged you during errands in the Lanes, she’d “accidentally” knock over his entire stall with a well-placed kick. If some lowlife catcalled you near the bridge, she’d materialize from nowhere with blue braids swinging and a knife already out. 

“She’s mine,” She’d snap. “Ours. Back off.”

You never corrected her. Instead you started mothering her in return—quietly, steadily, without making a show of it.

You braided her hair when the knots got too bad (she pretended to hate it but sat perfectly still). You made her eat real food instead of just sugar and shimmer residue (she grumbled but cleaned every plate). When nightmares woke her screaming in the middle of the night, you’d pull her into your arms without a word until the shaking stopped. You listened to all her stories, and never once told her to calm down or move on.

And every evening, without fail, Silco came home to the same sight.

The two of you already in his bed, blankets piled high, talking in low voices.

He’d pause in the doorway, coat still on, and watch for a moment—always just a moment—before the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction.

Tonight was no different.

You were propped against the headboard, Jinx sprawled across your lap like weighted blanket, recounting the day’s chaos with exaggerated hand gestures.

“–and then the enforcer tried to grab me, right? So I just–” She mimed an explosion. “Boom! Glitter bomb. Guy looked like a disco ball for a week.”

You laughed softly, fingers combing through her hair. “You’re going to get us banned from Piltover entirely.”

“Good. More room for us.”

The door clicked shut. 

Silco stood there, silent, mismatched eyes taking you both in.

Jinx noticed him first. “Heyyy, Sil. We didn’t blow anything up today. Promise. Mostly.”

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Progress.”

He shed his coat, loosened his tie, crossed to the bed. You shifted to make space without dislodging Jinx, who immediately scooted over to claim the middle like it was her rightful territory.

Silco slid in beside you, long limbs stretching out. One arm draped across both of you, possessive and grounding. His hand found yours under the blanket, Jinx’s smaller one landed on top a second later, linking the three of you.

“So,” He said, low and rough from the day. “Tell me everything.”

And you did.

Jinx launched into another animated retelling, interrupting herself with giggles and dramatic reenactments. You filled in the quieter details. The way the sunlight looked on the promenade, the taste of stolen sorbet, the small victory of Jinx letting you hold her hand the whole way back through the underpass without pulling away.

Silco listened. Really listened. His thumb traced slow arcs over your knuckles, occasionally he’d press a kiss to Jinx’s temple when her voice cracked on a memory she tried to laugh off.

When the stories wound down and yawns started slipping in, Jinx curled tighter against you both, mumbling something about graffitis and Piltover walls before her breathing evened out into sleep.

Silco turned his head, lips brushing your hairline.

“You’ve given her something I never could,” He murmured, so quiet it was almost lost between the air.

You squeezed his hand. “We’re giving it to each other.”

He exhaled—a long, slow sound that carried months of tension—and closed his eye.

The three of you slept like that every night now. Tangled together, stories traded in the dark, the weight of Zaun held at bay for a few precious hours. And somewhere in the spaces between breaths, the word family stopped feeling like a fragile hope and started feeling like truth.

The next morning arrived slowly, but you found no signs of Jinx nor Silco on the bed as you woke up. Until Silco appeared at the foot of the bed, already dressed in one of his sharper coats, the one with the high collar that made him look like a true king of an established empire.

He leaned down, brushed a kiss to your temple, and murmured against your skin. 

“We’ve been invited to a gala in Piltover tonight.”

You blinked up at him, still half-tangled in sheets. “Piltover?”

“Mm. One of those tedious affairs the Council throws to remind themselves we're on good terms. I thought you might accompany me. As my partner.”

You sat up slowly, searching his face. “You want me… in Piltover? With you? In front of all of them?”

Silco’s mismatched gaze held yours, steady and unblinking. “I want you seen. Not hidden in the Lanes. Not as some secret kept in the dark. As my queen, standing beside me where the whole city, both cities, can witness it.”

Something warm and uncertain twisted in your chest. 

You spent years learning how to stay as a secret for powerful men, their sons, and daughters. How to be a hushed whisper in their life they kept silent and buried under your silk sheets. What if some of them recognizes you? What if they decide to say something about your past in his face? 

Or worse, to other people?

The old life you walked away from seemed so foreign now. Back then, you only envisioned yourself for the possibility. To be around the arm of a Piltie nobleman while he paraded you in his gilded home. Back then, it left you with a bittersweet taste. The idea of being deliberately visible, claimed, in the glittering cage of Piltover felt like stepping onto a stage without a script.

An act you weren't ready to perform.

But now, with Silco by your side, nothing ever felt like an act anymore.

Not even this, in his home, after months of being chosen by him.

Silco noticed your silence,  his voice growing quiet, almost gentle. “You’re not going as entertainment. You’re going as your own person. And mine.”

After a long beat, you exhaled. “All right.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, just a fraction. “Good.”

He straightened, already turning toward the door. “Sevika will take you to find something suitable. Something made for grand entrances. Preferably white.”

And then he was gone, leaving the scent of cigar smoke and quiet command lingering in the air.

You met with Sevika an hour later, arms crossed, looking half-amused and half-reluctant at being assigned dress-shopping duty. 

“Boss says you need to look like you could stop the room when you walk in. Let’s not disappoint him.”

The two of you spent the day moving through Zaun’s hidden corners. Back-alley seamstresses who worked with smuggled Piltover silks, black-market tailors who owed favors, and finally a discreet atelier tucked behind the old cannery where a wiry woman with goggles and skilled wrinkled hands measured you with clinical precision.

You tried on dress after dress under Sevika’s watchful eye.

The first one was too stiff, too heavy.

Sevika shook her head immediately. “Looks like you’re going to war, not a party.”

The second was too sheer, and Sevika snorted. “Silco’ll start a riot if half of Piltover sees that much.”

The third was ivory satin, simple but elegant. But too plain. Sevika tilted her head, considered, then grunted. 

“Close. But not enough.”

You lost count somewhere around the sixth or seventh. Then the seamstress brought out the one.

Delicate white lace overlaid on soft champagne silk, long sleeves that ended in pointed cuffs, a deep V-neckline framed by intricate floral patterns that climbed like vines toward your shoulders. The skirt fell in soft layers, pooling like spilled moonlight, with a subtle train that whispered against the floor when you turned. It was grand without being obnoxious—powerful and beautiful in the same breath.

Sevika leaned back against the wall, arms still crossed, and gave a single nod. “That’s it.”

You stared at your reflection, hardly recognizing the woman looking back. 

Soft, regal, dangerous in lace.

Months ago, you first met Silco wearing silk above lace. And now, you were going to see him draped in lace with the silk beneath.

By late afternoon you were back at the Last Drop. Sevika stood guard outside the door while you prepared. Careful, thin strokes of kohl to line your eyes, a touch of rose on your lips, the heavy silver-and-obsidian necklace Silco had given you weeks ago resting cool against your collarbone. You pinned your hair half-up, letting the rest fall in loose waves, then stepped into the dress.

The lace settled over your skin like a second breath.

When you emerged, Sevika gave a low whistle. “He’s gonna lose what’s left of his mind.”

She offered her arm without another word.

You took it without hesitation.

But instead of heading toward the bridge to Piltover, Sevika steered you through the twisting back ways toward the Greenhouse. The singular place where Silco held his Chem-Baron meetings, where you joined him at times to survey his power, and where exotic plants thrived underneath the rare sunlight that reached Zaun’s shadows.

Confusion prickled at the back of your neck. “Sevika?”

She only smirked. “Trust the boss.”

The elevator groaned upward, gears protesting. For a moment, your mind shifted to different scenarios. Why would Silco meet you here? Did he lie about the gala? Or was there something else? If Sevika noticed your nervous expression, she chose not to comment on it. You steeled yourself instead, releasing a short breath to calm your nerves.

When the elevator doors slid open, your breath caught.

The long table was gone.

In its place stretched a crimson carpet, rich as spilled blood, leading straight down the center of the vast room. Golden afternoon light poured through the massive arched windows, turning everything warm and molten. And at the far end, bathed in that glow, stood Silco.

Not in his usual heavy coat.

He wore a traditional wedding suit cut in his colors. Deep burgundy wool edged in black, the jacket tailored sharp at the shoulders, a high collar pinned with a single obsidian brooch shaped like a coiled serpent. His hair was swept back as usual, the scarred side of his face catching the light like carved marble. He looked like a king who finally chose his queen, and at the end of that aisle, he'll finally share his crown.

Out of nowhere, Jinx burst from the side with a dramatic flourish, her short braids swinging, a wide grin splitting her face. 

Her dress was a little more… creative.

Mismatched fabrics stapled and sewed together. An asymmetrical that started at her knee on one end and sloping down diagonally to her ankle on the other. Her pink sleeves were short and frilly, layered above bright blue long sleeves that reached her knuckles. Around her waist, a leather belt held the top and skirt together. You had no doubt in mind she crafted it together herself, and you smiled at the thought. At least it wasn't stolen.

In her hands was a bouquet of red and white roses. Zaunite blooms, thorns carefully clipped, wrapped in black ribbon.

“For youuu,” She sang, thrusting it toward you like a trophy. “Especially picked by yours truly!”

You took the bouquet with trembling fingers, the scent of roses sharp and sweet.

Is this really happening?

Sevika shifted beside you, offering her arm again. 

This time with a quiet, almost solemn nod.

“Ready, doll?”

Blinking, you glanced down at her extended arm then towards Silco waiting at the end of the aisle. Across the space, you two shared a look of understanding. On his scarred lips, he offered you a small smile he only reserved for you and Jinx.

You slipped your hand through the crook of her elbow, nodding back. “Always.”

The carpet felt impossibly soft under your shoes as you walked. Each step echoed faintly in the empty hall. Jinx skipped ahead a few paces, then fell back to walk beside you, bouncing on her toes. Sevika kept her pace steady, protective, a silent promise that nothing would touch you today.

Silco never looked away.

Both his eyes, seafoam and molten, tracked your figure as you approached closer. Not once did he stray his attention away. Not even to sweep down your dress or admire the intricate lace. Just solely focused on you. There wasn't any grand music to fill the air or a mass to witness the scene. Just the private silence that rarely blanketed Zaun. The more you close the distance, the more you see his face softening.

When you finally reached the end of the carpet, Sevika gently disentangled her arm and stepped aside.

Silco extended his hand.

You placed yours in his without hesitation.

His fingers closed around yours—warm, sure, possessive.

He drew you closer until the toes of your shoes brushed his.

“Forgive me,” He said, voice low enough that only you could hear. “I lied about the gala.”

A small, breathless laugh escaped you. “I noticed.”

“I wanted you surprised,” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I wanted this moment to belong only to us. To our family. No Council. No Chem-Barons. Just you, me, and what we have.”

Jinx rocked on her heels beside you both, suddenly shy.

“You look pretty,” She muttered, then louder. “You always are, but you’re prettier now.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to her, soft and proud, then back to you.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

You looked up into his mismatched eyes—one calm sea, one burning ember—and felt the last of your uncertainty dissolve.

“I’ve been ready since the night you chose me.”

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Then let us begin.”

The golden light had softened as the afternoon wore on, casting long shadows across the Greenhouse’s empty hall. 

No priest stood between you. No topside officiant in gilded robes, no Chem-Baron hiding their disdain in barely concealed masks. Only Jinx, bouncing lightly on her toes with the bouquet now tucked under one arm. And Sevika, leaning against a pillar with her arms crossed and a rare, genuine half-smile, and the three of you at the center of it all.

Silco lifted your joined hands slightly, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I have never been a man for ceremonies,” He began softly, carrying just far enough for you. “Words have always been tools. Sharp ones, when necessary. But you… you have never been a tool. Not to me.”

He paused, mismatched gaze searching yours as though memorizing every flicker of expression.

“I came to you seeking release, expecting nothing more than a fleeting distraction from the weight I carry. Instead I found something I had long convinced myself was impossible. Someone who saw the exhaustion beneath the control, the man beneath the title, and chose to stay. Not out of fear. Not out of obligation. But because you wanted to.”

His free hand rose, fingertips grazing the edge of your jaw with a tenderness that belied the power coiled in every line of him.

“I vow to you this. I will protect what is ours. Our home, our family, this fragile, fierce thing we have built with everything I am. I will stand between you and the world that would take from us. I will listen when the nights grow loud. I will hold you when the city demands too much of me, and I will never ask you to dim your light to fit in the shadows I cast.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile curved his mouth.

“You are my sweetest poison, my love. The one I chose willingly, the one I drink from every day without regret. And I will spend the rest of my days making sure you never doubt that you are wanted, needed, and loved beyond measure.”

He turned his head just enough to glance at Jinx, who had gone unusually still, wide eyes glistening.

“And you,” He added softly. “My brilliant, perfect child… I vow to keep building a world where you are safe to be exactly who you are. No more running. No more hiding pieces of yourself. We are yours, as you are ours.”

Jinx sniffed loudly, swiping at her cheek with the back of her hand. 

“Your turn,” She muttered to you, nudging your elbow. “Don’t make him wait. He gets grumpy.”

A watery laugh escaped you. You squeezed Silco’s hand, drawing a steadying breath.

“I never thought I’d have vows to give anyone,” You admitted quietly. “I spent so long being whatever someone else needed. Polite, pliant, and malleable. I learned to disappear so well I almost forgot how to stay.”

Your gaze lifted to his, unwavering.

“But you saw me. Not the act, not the role. You saw the woman underneath. Who was tired, who was scared she’d never be enough, and you didn’t turn away. You chose me anyway. You brought me into your life, into your home, into your family even if I was just a stranger.”

You glanced at Jinx, smiling through the blur in your eyes.

“And you… you let me in too. You tested me, pushed me, and then you trusted me enough to fall apart in my arms. That trust is the most precious thing anyone has ever given me.”

You looked back to Silco, voice steadying.

“I vow to stand beside you. Not behind, not in your shadow, but beside you. I will be your softness when the world is sharp. I will be your anchor when the current pulls too hard. I will stay for this family. For you, for her. I will never leave. Not when it’s easy, not when it’s hard. I will choose you every day, the same way you chose me.”

You lifted your free hand to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath the burgundy wool.

“You became my home, Silco. And my love. And I will spend every day making sure you never have to carry the weight alone again.”

Silence fell, thick and golden.

Jinx let out a shaky breath. “Okay. That was… disgustingly sappy. I love it.”

Sevika snorted from the side, but her eyes were suspiciously bright.

Silco exhaled slowly, as though releasing something he’d held for years.

“Then we are bound,” He said simply.

He drew you closer, tilted your chin up with gentle fingers, and kissed you—slow, deep, claiming. 

Not for show. For you.

When he drew back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Mine,” He whispered, “As I am yours.”

“Yours,” You answered, “As you are mine.”

Jinx whooped suddenly, throwing her arms around both of you in a tackle-hug that nearly knocked you off balance. 

“Family official! Now we need fireworks. Lots of them. Explosive ones.”

Silco’s laugh was the last sound before the three of you stood there, tangled together in the dying light, finally, irrevocably whole.

In the quiet of the Greenhouse, with Jinx grinning like she just witnessed the sunset for the first time and Sevika standing guard at the side, the Eye of Zaun married his sweetest poison—his queen, his heart, his home. With a thin golden band engraved with each other's name inserted through your fingers, with quiet vows weighed with emotion, and your hands together as one.

The door to your quarters clicked shut behind you with a final, satisfying sound.

The Greenhouse ceremony had ended hours ago in a haze of golden light, Jinx’s whoops, and Sevika’s quiet toast. Earlier in the evening, the four of you ate in the upper levels of Zaun where the fading sunset can still reach you. Now the city’s perpetual hum rose through the open window, but inside, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Silco’s hand stayed at the small of your back as he guided you deeper into the room, the lace of your wedding dress caressing the floorboards. He hadn’t let go of you once since the kiss that sealed your vows.

“My wife,” He murmured, voice low and rough, tasting the word like rare wine. 

He turned you slowly until your back met the edge of the bed. “Mine.”

You shivered at the possession in his tone, the way his mismatched gaze dragged over you—sea-green eye dark with hunger, the scarred one burning hotter.

“Yours,” You answered, reaching up to loosen his tie. “Completely.”

He caught your wrists gently, pinning them to the mattress above your head with one large hand. The other traced the delicate lace neckline of your dress, thumb brushing the swell of your breast.

“I’ve waited all day to get you out of this,” His fingers teased the fabric across your ribs, leaning down until his lips hovered at your ear. “To remind you who you belong to now. Not the brothel. Not the clients. Not the city. Me.”

You shivered, arching into him. “So claim me, dear husband.”

He kissed you then. 

Deep, claiming, tongue sliding against yours with thinning patience. You met him just as hard, clutching him closer until there was barely any space between you. He took your wrists, bringing them around his neck, before his hands tugged you by your waist. When he pulled back, your lips were swollen, breath ragged.

Without a word, Silco released you. 

Only to turn you around, fingers working the long row of tiny buttons down your spine with practiced precision. The dress slid from your shoulders like falling snow, pooling at your feet in a shimmer of white lace. He stepped back to admire you—bare except for the silver-black necklace he’d given you and the simple wedding band on your ring finger.

“Beautiful,” He breathed, voice filled with awe and possession. “My queen.”

He shed his own jacket and vest. Deft pulls dissolving into impatient tugs. Until he was left in his dark slacks straining against him. With an arch of your brow, Silco obeyed wordlessly and stripped of his last garment as well. Then pulled you flush against him, skin to skin. His hands roamed possessively—cupping your breasts, sliding down your waist, gripping your hips hard enough to leave faint marks.

“Careful,” You chuckled, caressing his bare chest. “Unless you want me bruised again. They take so long to disappear.”

Something flashed in his gaze and a low rumble in his throat. He glanced down, to where his hands spanned on your hips. 

“Why do you think I leave them there, my sweet?”

When he laid you back on the bed, he followed, settling between your thighs. His cock pressed hot and heavy against your entrance, already slick from the way he’d been teasing you with slow rolls of his hips.

Silco braced himself on his elbows, forehead resting against yours. His voice dropped to a velvet rasp.

“I want more than tonight, my love.”

“More?”

“I want a family.”

“We already have one, Silco.”

Shaking his head, he fixed you a burning stare. “More.”

He lined himself into you, then pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning low as your walls fluttered around him.

“I want to fill you,” He whispered, hips rolling deep. “Want to watch my seed take root inside you. Give Jinx a brother or sister… give us a child of our own.”

Your breath hitched, skin burning at the raw desire in his voice. His words were quiet, almost reverent, but the way he thrusted harder after saying them—sincere and deliberate—told you how much he meant it.

“Imagine it,” He continued, straining as he rocked into you, one hand sliding down to press gently over your lower belly. “You, round with my child. Our family growing. No more empty spaces. Just you… carrying what belongs to me. To us.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, while his hips kept that steady, claiming rhythm.

“I want to see you like that every morning,” He murmured against your lips. “Swollen, glowing, marked by me in the most permanent way. My wife. The mother of my children.”

A soft moan escaped you as pleasure coiled tighter. Your legs came up to wrap around his hips, meeting his thrusts with eager grinds. Your walls clenched at the thought. To be the one carrying his child, and if tonight can’t bring you the fruit of his labor, you knew for a fact that he'll give you more. He won't stop for just one night. For as long as you are bare of any signs of life, Silco will take you again and again and again.

He already has an heir, Jinx was sure to inherit his empire, but if Jinx wanted to pursue her own path, then that title can be given to another.

Silco’s hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking possessively, as if he could already imagine it.

“Say you want it too,” He growled, pace quickening. “Tell me you’ll let me, my sweet. Let me give you everything.”

“I want it,” You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “I want your child, Silco. Want to carry it for you… for us.”

The words snapped something in him.

He drove into you harder, deeper, the bed creaking beneath you as he chased release with single-minded intensity. He buried his face on your neck, breathing you in. Your back lifted from the sheets after he hit that spot within you, and he wasted no time changing his angle to hit it again. Hands behind your thighs to raise them, keeping you open for him, teeth at your shoulder, and his hard length driving mercilessly inside you.

The moment your cries quietened into shallow gasps, Silco brought down one finger between your legs and drew tight circles. He brought himself up, lips locking on yours, before whispering.

“Let go for me, my sweet.”

You kissed him again, muffling your sounds against his mouth as you came undone, walls squeezing once. 

The sensation of your release brought him to the edge. With a strangled gasp, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name into your mouth while he spilled hot and deep inside you, hips grinding as if to push every drop where it belonged.

He stayed there long after, still hard, still inside you, pressing lazy kisses along your throat and collarbone.

“My wife,” He whispered again, hand never leaving your stomach. “I can't wait to build a life with you.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair, legs still wrapped around his waist to keep him close.

“Yours,” You answered softly. “Always.”

Silco exhaled, content, and rolled you both so you lay draped over his chest, his cock still nestled warm inside you.

Outside, Zaun thrummed on.

Inside, the Eye of Zaun held his queen—his sweetest poison, his wife, his future—and for the first time in his life, the weight he carried felt lighter, shared, and infinitely worth it. 

The next morning, just after Silco took you again for the second time, you clung to each other with the covers draped on your slick bodies when Jinx’s seeped through the locked door.

“Do I have a sibling now?”

[sylvest-art]

Sisters Part 2: Fight

[art-of-arcane]

ARCANE | Jinx Graffiti | Marie de Durat