Chapter Text
Take a deep breath. Stay calm.
Without having to see outside the ship when you docked, you knew that scent. One never forgets something like that. You were home after too many years in exile.
Funny, you choked on that putrid air every day of your trencher life, burning your throat and lungs. You always struggled more than the others. For years you feared ending up just like your mother―dying, barely able to breathe.
It wasn’t as bad now, you noticed as foreigners and Topsiders still wore masks descending to the lower levels. Overlooking one of the smaller Promenade bridges stretching across the fissure, you wondered if it would be the same as you remembered down on Entresol and below.
Everyone in the Underground had a reason to fight the Topsiders. Was it so unreasonable to demand something as simple as clean air? There were so many things worth fighting and dying for. Topsiders took fresh air for granted when so many choked to death below.
Now, you could see pumps forcing air down to the Undercity from Piltover through massive ducts and vents. If the air was cleaner, why the need for masks? What else happened while you were a prisoner to pirates?
The Hexgates and airships had revolutionized travel, yet many pirates refused to adapt, avoiding scrutiny in their business dealings. More opportunities for unregulated trade opened up in the last few years with the Undercity Chembarons.
Glancing around, you were shocked not to see a single Enforcer. You heard about Vander’s failed rebellion on the bridge—a slaughter more like it. Yet, the word abroad was that Piltover had not annexed or taken control of the Underground.
The Chembarons were in control now; one, in particular, was the most powerful.
You knew him well once upon a time.
Surprisingly there was no mention of Vander for years. You expected your pirate owners to ask about him, not Silco. What kind of man was he? What were his weaknesses?
Silco was always the brains of the operation since you met him. Vander was the natural leader, the muscle, but Silco was the true commander in the shadows. Every idea, carefully constructed to the smallest detail, was his. Their entire smuggling operation out of The Last Drop was Silco’s brilliance.
He knew, as Vander did, no one was going to follow him. Silco didn’t exude the appearance of strength and commanding presence as his friend. No one dared challenge Vander—a massive hulk of a man with a fiery temper to match. There wasn’t a fight the man did not win, with or without his gauntlets. Even Silco was in awe of him and wanted to be like him.
They didn’t know Silco as you did. He was respected, yes, but he would never be Vander to the rest of the Underground.
It seemed so long ago, a dream you once had. Your family, Vander, Benzo… Silco. The boys were more your family than your own blood. Yet it was one you cared for the most―that betrayal cut like a knife. A wound that never healed.
Never did you believe you would live to reach thirty. Now, here you were, home after all these years. Lungs clear, a new, unwanted life filled with memories you couldn’t forget.
Violet eyes, older and wiser, stared back in the small mirror you kept in your bag. Would Silco still recognize you? You didn’t look as different as you felt. There were some fine lines, a hardness about your mouth and eyes. Your silvery hair was longer and kept in braids knotted at the back of her head. Salt and seawater were unforgiving to skin and hair—you never truly felt clean.
Bilgewater and the life of pirates was your new world now. Sold, stolen, beaten down until someone finally saw you as a person, someone with skill, promise… perhaps only a pawn, but that didn’t matter. You had been one before. Now, you would use it to your advantage.
You had made a promise to yourself years ago, even at your lowest point where you didn’t think you could go on another day.
You are not going to die here. Find a way home no matter how long it takes. Do whatever it takes, even if they are all dead and gone. You’ll be where you belong in the end.
Taking the lift down, it didn’t take long before you needed the mask to hide the slight cough. Yes, it was, as you remembered it. Not as thick as before, but you had breathed clean air for so long that it only took a little of the Zaun grey now to bother you.
Closing your eyes, you could still hear his voice as if it were yesterday.
“That cough is getting worse,” Silco muttered as he leaned against the brick wall, his foot resting on a bar stool.
Rolling your eyes, you thought he was a bigger nag than your mother. Silco smirked, waiting for you to argue with him as he tied up a knot of jet-black hair, the rest hanging almost to his shoulders. He needed a haircut.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” you sighed, leaning on the bar, your silver, coiled hair hiding your face.
“Benzo wants to get in your pants?” he chuckled, eyeing the men by the bar. He said it loud enough, making you cringe.
“Fuck you, Silco!” Benzo blasted from across the pub.
“No thanks, Benny, I’ll pass. I am flattered, though,” Silco laughed. “It’s obvious how you stare at my ass all the time…”
Silco’s voice was sarcastic and light, but his eyes narrowed once more when you coughed again.
“…I have shits bigger than you… you little fuck…” Benzo grumbled into his ale.
Shaking your head, you heard Vander laughing, taking the piss on poor Benzo, but Silco’s eyes caught you―filled with concern.
You waved it off with a silent “I’m fine”, but he wasn’t buying it.
The meeting tonight had gone well. Plans were taking shape. You showed the men the designs for new weapons to fight the Topsiders. Silco pushed to add you to the meetings, and Vander agreed, but Benzo and a few others weren’t sold on a ‘girl’ knowing anything about war and fighting.
It had more to do with the fact that your father was a respected metal worker of a family of blacksmiths. Never having a son, he passed on his wealth of knowledge to a daughter who devoured everything he gave her. It was either the mines or the foundry, neither good for one’s health, but you wanted to be like your father—to create something and be useful.
It was your pipe bombs that caught Silco’s attention at first. He held your father’s name in great regard, and perhaps, in the beginning, you were just a pawn to pull those people in to fight for the cause. To everyone’s but Silco’s surprise, you proved your salt and skill at designing and building weapons than most of the men.
Vander had been planning a rebellion soon, meaning an arsenal was needed. Silco handled these details personally, reporting only to Vander and a select group of men. Today was the first time you were allowed in the meetings, and knew it was Silco’s doing.
However, the burning in your chest was terrible as you cleared your throat. Silco pushed a cool glass into your hand with a knowing glare.
Drink it.
Ugh, you hated this shit. Silco mixed the remedy with something, so the taste wasn’t as foul. He was always looking out for you lately like the brother you never had… or, more likely, the brother you didn’t ask for.
His blue-green eyes narrowed until you finally swallowed the whole thing in a few gulps, gagging at the last of it.
Silco’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile that said, “Good girl”.
Since coming to The Last Drop, the men treated you like a kid sister. Sometimes, you had to remind them they were only a few years older and you weren’t some baby tagging along.
It did feel nice that someone cared about you. After your father died, your mother couldn’t handle the grief and took up with a truly awful man named Les. You refused to call him father or refer to him as such. Your mother would die from the consumption of the lungs, and Les did nothing to help. He sure as hell didn’t want a kid to take care of either.
Your new family was this ragtag of boys and men, all with one thing on their minds.
The Cause.
Those same men were drinking now, getting a bit louder as cigarette smoke began to fill the air. You couldn’t blame them; it was a pub. Vander lit his pipe, yet Silco hadn’t pulled out a single cigarette. He usually smoked with them, but not tonight.
“How can you boys smoke like chimneys, but I’m the one coughing up a lung?” you choked out bitterly.
“You should get some rest,” Silco advised softly.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Vander, I’m going to walk Ash home,” Silco announced. “Kriek’s goons are on the prowl tonight…”
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” you rounded hotly with bright violet eyes. You didn’t need a guardian to take you home ―which was little more than a bedroom down the street. “I beat the fuck out Whistler, if you recall.”
“I also recall you fucking up your hand while breaking his face,” he smirked.
“She’s got a bigger cock than you, admit it,” Benzo roared, getting a few others to laugh with him.
Silco’s face turned to stone, and you knew if you stayed, he and Benzo would get into another nasty brawl. Taking his hand lightly, you pulled at him, but Silco’s eyes never left the large man at the bar cracking jokes at his expense.
“Sil, take me home, please,” you said, squeezing his hand.
“Walk him up to his room, Ash,” Benzo laughed it up. “I bet he hasn’t been laid in weeks.”
Gripping Silco’s hand tight, you silently pleaded with him to go with you. The daggers in his eyes were deadly. If Benzo didn’t watch himself, he would find a knife in his back someday.
Silco was not a man to be trifled with. He might not have the brawn of Vander, but he was quick and ruthless, especially with a knife. Yes, he had a sense of humour, but it was draining away day by day. The upcoming battle was consuming him.
“Knock it off, Benzo,” Vander warned lightly, tossing back a drink and giving you a wink. “Don’t talk about Ash like that. She has better taste.”
Vander did tease Silco often, but you weren’t sure if he knew how much Silco loathed it when he took Benzo’s side.
Tonight the grey was thick, the few street lamps creating hazy streams down the alley as you walked. Not once did Silco look up from the ground—arms folded and body rigid. His jacket had another rip to where it would begin looking like a patchwork quilt soon. Stealing a glance at him, Silco’s eyes told you everything.
“Why do you let him get to you?”
The dark-haired man didn’t answer.
“You’re better than him,” you added. “You’re smarter than all of them.”
Silco stopped but still didn’t say a word. You were a block away from your pathetic excuse for an apartment.
“Benzo is jealous of you, and that’s the truth, Sil. You have Vander’s ear, not him. He can’t stand that. So he belittles you. He’s not half the man you are.”
Silco had it rough all his life as an orphan. He had to fight for everything. He was not afraid to fight or die. He was a more formidable man than they gave him credit. Yet, for some reason, Benzo always got under his skin.
Suddenly, Silco took your hand, his fingers calloused and rough yet tender.
“Are you very tired?” he asked softly.
“No, not really. Why?”
“Up for a walk? We both could use some fresh air.”
His mouth twitched a smile, avoiding your eyes. In all honesty, you didn’t feel like going up to Promenade tonight but looking at Silco right now; you couldn’t deny him anything.
Silco didn’t talk much when it was only the two of you. You valued quiet times with him as if reading each other’s minds. The two of you could walk for hours and barely speak a word, and it was strangely enjoyable. Sometimes, you felt Silco needed to get away from all the stress, but at the same time, he liked you to join him for some reason.
It wasn’t until he started across the bridge to Piltover that you stalled.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
Silco took both your hands in reassurance, pulling you across. You hid in the usual places to avoid Enforcers and, with the cover of night, moved like shadows across the city. Usually, he and Sevika would venture across to spy on the Topsiders and gather intel and steal whatever was easy to grab. You never got to go anywhere but stay down below.
Silco’s hand never left yours as you found yourselves in a district of expensive mansions. Suddenly it was easier to breathe. You weren’t sure if the medicine or clean air made you feel better. You often wondered if your lungs would clear if you stayed above Entresol.
Helping you over a stone wall, Silco lifted you down into a beautiful garden. An intoxicating scent hung in the air like a sweet veil of heaven.
“It’s the flowers,” Silco breathed.
Never in your short life had you seen or smelled a flower before. In fact, you had never seen such vivid colours. There were so many shades of green, and everything was cool and fresh.
There was nothing so beautiful, and you wondered how Silco found this place. Did he and Sevika come here often? Glancing up, the stars twinkled in a clear black sky—another new experience.
You both crept through the greenery, his finger to his lips telling you to stay quiet. Music drifted from the house that emerged in this forest, adding to the sublime dream. Silco brought you to a large tree and surrounding shrubbery, hiding in shadow.
It was a grand party, from what you could see. Men and women dressed in their finery wandered about laughing and drinking. The clinking of glasses and conversations echoed in the garden. The scent of the food was mouth-watering, and you ticked another thing on your list of ‘firsts’. Nothing in the Underground smelled this delicious.
“Are we going to knick some food and booze?” you asked eagerly as your stomach grumbled and your mind soured.
While everyone in Zaun fought for scraps of nothing, these people dined without a care in the world, and you hated them for it. Why did Silco bring you here? It wasn’t like you didn’t know how they lived and what they did to the Underground. Seeing it, however, was entirely different, leaving you bitter.
“This is what we should have ―what we deserve.”
Silco’s voice was soft but full of disgust. He gripped your hand a little too hard, but you didn’t dare complain. It was how he held you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.
“You deserve clean air, good food, beautiful clothes…”
His fingers laced with yours, making your heart skip a beat.
“…someone to take care of you…”
You didn’t know what to do. Silco was glaring at the rich Topsiders but you couldn’t see his eyes. Were you reading too much into his words? He often went into long-winded diatribes about their situation and the evils of Piltover. Yet his fundamental change of demeanour made you off kilter. He rarely ever let his guard down and, lately, only around you. Yet you had never seen him like this.
Then his voice changed again, back to his usual self—filled with loathing.
“Just look at them. They don’t even know we exist. We’re nothing but rats in their sewers.”
There was a dampness in the air that hinted at a storm brewing. You seldom felt the rain anymore, living so far below the Underground that it never mattered much. You wondered if you should leave, but all thoughts of doing so vanished at the feel of his fingers on your cheek.
“Ash, I’ll make them pay,” he said. “I promise you.”
Only Vander and Silco got away with calling you by their pet name. Tonight, you let it slide with Benzo. No one else dared, or they knew you’d beat them to a pulp. Strangely, only Silco allowed you and you alone to call him “Sil”. It happened by accident, and Silco didn’t seem to mind. It was something you used only in private.
Silco, a dangerous man, had respect in The Lanes to a degree, but it mostly went to Vander. On the other hand, Sil belonged to you in some strange fashion. Silco was the mastermind, a man you didn’t fuck with unless you wanted Vander’s wrath to come down on you. In these moments, he was just Sil—a man who wanted to be more than he was.
You understood him. In many ways, you were like him. Part of you always felt excluded in this group of men. You didn’t want to be the little woman that needed to be protected by a man.
“I mean we will make them pay,” Silco corrected, as if reading your thoughts.
Sil wasn’t the most handsome of men, his teeth chipped, but his eyes were mesmerizing—blue with flecks of green and always intense. Those eyes were experts at deception yet occasionally would reveal the man underneath. It was hard to decipher him at times because Silco wore a mask, never quite letting people know him. It was partly why Vander was able to take charge. With Silco, one didn’t always know what to make of him.
Even though Vander and Benzo towered over him, Silco was a tall man and yet stronger than his thin frame suggested. He didn’t need to talk a big game or show physical strength; he had better qualities. Sil could read people instantly, a mind perfect for strategy, and although he tended to be on the quiet side, he didn’t take anyone’s shit either.
You liked that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Or maybe he didn’t because, at that moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his face. There was something about Silco you couldn’t define. You had witnessed him cruel, deadly and, then, in moments like this; he was surprisingly tender.
Whatever it was, the moment was gone when he cleared his throat and moved back, creating a distance. He always did that. Silco never let anyone in. Sometimes you might get a foot in the door, but then he’d back away.
Silco chuckled, but it was forced as he looked back at the party.
“Is that what they call dancing up here?”
Following his line of sight, you watched the couples twirl around the terrace, skirts whirling as if they floated on clouds.
“Doesn’t look so bad,” you japed and caught his raised eyebrow. “Well, for Topsiders.”
“Oh really?”
“Come here, sir,” you sniggered, taking his hand. Gleaning from the dancers, you placed his hand on your waist. “Are we supposed to bow or something first?”
Silco snorted, “I have no fucking clue.”
Taking Silco’s other hand, you propped your free one on his shoulder. Closing the distance, you had to look up to see his face. The last time you were this close to him, Silco dragged you back to the pub after an encounter with Enforcers.
The music played as you both stood there awkwardly, holding one another.
“Now what?” you expectantly.
“How should I know? You started this,” he teased. “You’re the girl. You should know this stuff.”
Glaring at him, Silco shrugged. You couldn’t be angry with him if you tried. You never saw him dance at the pub and would have been shocked all the same. Silco usually hung back, drinking and smoking unless someone caught his eye for a typical one-nighter. Silco didn't usually seek out a lover, yet a girl would find him at some point. Oddly, he never appeared to fancy a girl for more than a quick shag, always working, his nose in a ledger and creating plans within plans.
Moving your feet, you found the beat of the music. In doing so, all you managed to do was sway with him in a small circle.
Chuckling, you grinned. “We’re both pathetic.”
“Well, we don’t look like that,” he muttered under his breath, nodding to the other dancers, and you slapped his chest, forcing a grunt out of him.
After that, he fell silent.
You swayed gently for a time, but the pull was inevitable like two magnets. The music floated seductively, surrounding you. In this lush hiding place, the world seemed to drift away.
You didn’t know when your arm wrapped around his back, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand brought yours over his chest as the other held you close, his hard planes moulding your soft ones.
Silco smelled of cigarettes and a mustiness that only came from the Undercity and was more pronounced up here in the crisp air. Unconsciously nuzzling into his crimson shirt collar, it would be so easy to wrap your arms around him. You liked his slim frame. He wasn’t big and bulky like other men.
Silco’s heart beat steadily under your ear, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he sensed the change in the air. Or had your imagination taken liberties?
Pulling away from him slightly, you found his eyes unreadable.
Damnit, the one time you wanted to know without asking, he refused to show you anything.
Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him harder than you meant to. It lasted only a moment, and when Silco pulled away, all your self-doubt came crashing forward. His eyes were wide with shock.
Oh, no, what had you done?
You ruined your friendship. Of course, Silco only thought of you like some kid sister. Unable to bear the look on his face, you turned around. In a blur, the words tumbled out furiously.
“Oh shit, Sil, I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot. I didn’t mean to do that… I mean I did, but you don’t… oh fuck. I’m so stupid—”
The words died when he whipped you around, his mouth ravaging yours. His body crushed you back into a tree, the bark rough and catching your shirt. A low moan escaped when Silco opened your mouth, deepening his kiss.
Your hands had a mind of their own―travelling from his waist, up over his shoulder blades, and finally around his neck. His lips were soft, with a hint of stubble on his upper lip. You melted into him when the tip of his tongue flicked yours.
You were no stranger to kisses and had a few lovers, but this kiss left you burning. Silco wasn’t the inexperienced boy Benzo liked to joke about while you shoved down any jealous thoughts of how many women were notched on his bedpost. It wasn’t talked about, but you weren’t naïve. All of them were fucking someone, man or woman…
No, stop that. He’s kissing you right now.
His hair was silky at the nape of his neck as your fingers threaded through it to the lose knot of tangled black tresses. His mouth, however, was an addictive thing―the open kisses, tongues touching while his thumb ran little circles under your jaw, holding you to him.
Fuck, you wanted him and kissed him back fiercely.
Silco growled, his hand grabbing your backside and pulling up into him. His hardness pressed against your hip, and you thought you could fuck him right here against a tree when his mouth suckled a pulse point under your jaw, sending a jolt between your legs.
Vaguely, you were aware of your surroundings, that Topsiders were only a few yards away. It didn’t stop the low groan emanating from your throat.
“Sil… oh fuck…”
Those words caused his hands to mould you more closely to him. There wasn’t a place where you didn’t touch. His hot breath and the feel of his lips on your ear had you aching and wet for him.
“Say that again,” he murmured.
Silco manoeuvred between your legs, rocking against you. Dear Janna, you both wanted it.
“Sil,” you whispered against his lips before he devoured your mouth with such intensity, taking your breath away.
A loud crash broke you apart, turning at the commotion. A drunk man had fallen and taken a tray of glasses with him as other people laughed.
Silco huffed in annoyance, not letting you go.
“It doesn’t take much for these dolts to get trashed, does it?”
Chuckling softly, you were shocked you hadn’t been discovered yet, practically dry fucking behind a tree.
“They wouldn’t last two minutes down below,” you gasped against his neck.
“Tell me about it,” Silco grunted, holding your hip, his cock still hard.
He wasn’t talking about the Topsiders; you grinned before sobriety hit you. Shit, this was dangerous and not because of where you were. Getting involved with Silco was rife with trouble. Even a single night of fucking each other’s brains out could cause problems.
“We need to get out of here,” you finally uttered.
Just like that, the spell was broken. Silco released you before turning away with his hands on his hips for a minute or two, letting his body adjust.
“Yeah, we should get back,” he added, walking towards the stone wall.
Damnit, you couldn’t decide which was worse, the disappointment that it didn’t go any further or the fear it might have. Silco turned and held out his hand. Once again, you couldn’t read him. What did he think about all of this?
The walk back, this time, was uncomfortably quiet. Silco’s hands were in his pockets while you fiddled with yours. There was never a time you weren’t able to talk to each other, but that kiss changed everything.
The ride down the lift to the Sumps took forever as you fidgeted in front of three other denizens, and you wondered if everyone could see it. Did you look like two people who had almost fucked each other in Piltover garden? How could you hide this from Vander and the others? Would Silco brag about it to the other men?
Fingers ghosted over your hand, hidden from view. That simple touch answered that question. No, he wouldn’t. Whatever this was, it was between only the two of you.
In no time, you navigated the streets and climbed the stairs to the building that housed your little room. Once or twice had Silco entered this room as a friend and colleague. What lingered in your mind in this moment had nothing to do with brotherly friendship.
If I invite him in tonight, we’ll end up in my bed. I don’t want to be one of his forgettable trysts.
Silco must have sensed your scattered thoughts, tilting your chin.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
This time he let you see him; his eyes not only told the truth but were filled with desire and a hint of disappointment. Silco couldn’t hide that because you felt it too. You wanted him to stay tonight but knew this required sober thought, not one soaked with lust.
Numbly, you nodded and felt him pull away. Silco descended a few creaky steps on the metal spiral staircase and stilled at your voice.
“Sil?”
He turned by the time you reached him, hovering a few inches above his face. It was different in this position as he looked up at you with a questioning. How should you phrase it?
I want you but don’t want to be a notch on your bedpost. I don’t want the others to know…I don't want to ruin our friendship.
This was going to be complicated, depending on your next move. It would probably be better for you both if you ended this before it began.
With a sigh, your forehead touched his as if willing him to understand.
His lips ever so gently graced yours—sealing your fate.
“Get some rest,” he whispered at last, catching your glazed eyes.
Those blue eyes were vibrant and sincere, yet full of mischief.
“You have a lot of work cut out for you. My reputation is on the line putting you in charge. I expect a full report in a few days—a thorough report that I intend to spend hours dissecting.”
“Did you hear me?”
The bearded pirate, Joss, looked annoyed. How long had you been staring into space?
“I said Rychen told us to get back before sundown. He wanted to go over everything again before tomorrow,” Joss ordered.
“In a minute,” you answered, draining the last of your drink and gathering your thoughts.
Today was nothing more than a covert mission to survey the Undercity. Pirates weren't used to the Fissures in Zaun. They usually stayed near the docks to conduct business. You were the only Trencher they had as a guide.
“No, now.”
Joss stood, throwing a few cogs on the table, waiting impatiently. Captain Rychen hated to be kept waiting. He had a contact with someone on the Council, and they were to meet with two of the Chembarons tomorrow before seeking out Zaun’s unofficial leader.
Now it was a question of how good of an actress did you become after all these years? If either Rychen or Silco saw through you, it meant a quick but violent death.
“Ash, NOW!”
You had to play this part a little longer. Revenge was a dish best served cold-blooded. Silco taught you that. He didn’t know what betrayal felt like. Silco had his brothers and the Lanes. If only you had never fallen for him.
Now, you wanted him to know what he did to you―what it felt like to be bitter and hateful.
Tightening your mask, you stood and blew past Joss. You would tell Rychen only what he needed to know. Your goal was to get to Silco, and using a scheme from these arrogant pirates was your ticket to him.
Let the games begin.