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Because there, under the Christmas tree that they had decorated together, was Jayce’s final present: himself.
-Or: indulgent Jayvik Christmas fluffy smut.
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Summary
There is no gravestone for Viktor. Across the entirety of Runeterra, there is no spot marked with his name. There are no mourners for him, no funeral processions, no heartfelt speeches doting on his compassion and kindness, his brilliance, his constant strive to better the lives of the people of the Undercity.
His name didn’t even make it onto the Hexgates.
Jayce can feel the emotions roiling off of his shoulders without needing to look at him. They are the only two beings in the universe who can see the other, yet they are both clad in funeral black.
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Or: Jayce and Viktor are not dead. The rest of the world believes the opposite.