Chapter Text
The heavy, tar-like air of Zaun enveloped the girl's face as she stood on the balcony of her old building. Her long, slim blue hair rustled in the wind, which tickled her delicate, pale skin, creating the perfect disarray on her body. She wore a long gown that clung to her slender figure, hiding any imperfections beneath the layer of black fabric. Her face, as usual, exuded calmness, but her heart betrayed her concerns.
She was waiting for her father, who had left early in the morning to attend a chem-baron meeting and propose peace and harmony for the O'Hara family lands. Despite the numerous guards, the intrusive Firelights were not afraid to trespass on enemy territory, destroying warehouses full of shimmer. Because that's what it was all about. Shimmer was the main cause of the war – every family wanted to possess as much as possible to expand their own empire. The Butler family was the exception.
They opposed any substance that, according to them, was no different from other psychoactive substances, becoming the worst kind of drug. They took it upon themselves to free Zaun from toxins and save all living creatures. They didn’t understand that shimmer, despite its negative effects, also had much good in it. It was used in medicine, saving many lives.
The girl looked toward the flickering flame at the gate of her estate. Her father had arrived, so the plan must have gone well. Without thinking any longer, she grasped the hem of her gown with her long, graceful fingers and headed toward the stairs. Her heart calmed at the sight of the guest standing by the carriage, dressed in a black coat with red and gold embellishments.
The tall, slim, and hunched man with sharp facial features always presented himself very professionally and assertively, demonstrating his authority and composure. Numerous wrinkles appeared here and there – but his trademark was the large scar on his face, running from the top of his head to his chin. His eye, now black and entirely dead, always looked at everything with disapproval and emptiness inside. Those who didn’t know him would boldly say that he was the Lord of life and death – especially death. The scent of alcohol and cigars reached the girl, making her stop in her tracks. She swallowed hard, the lump forming in her throat, and lowered her gown.
"You’ve come, father," she said with a rough voice, trying to mask her new concerns. Her father never liked alcohol; he only drank it when he couldn’t cope with loss or a difficult decision. She knew that if the lord returned alive, an alliance must have been formed, but sensing the alcohol, she suspected it had come at a certain cost. A very high price.
Silco O'Hara was a man of strong mind; he had built Zaun's empire after being betrayed by his closest friend, not caring about the victims or the violence. He was a tyrant, yes, but it was thanks to him that Zaun remained a power and hadn’t fallen under the hand of the progressive city. Unfortunately, his days of glory had long passed, and his greatest enemy was weakening his position in the underground city, destroying everything he had managed to build over the years of terror.
He didn’t care about people – why should he? No one cared about him when he was dying in pain on the streets of the toxic city. He never forgot, and certainly never forgave. His role was to create terror and rule with an iron hand, with shimmer in his grasp. He knew that Piltover had a more powerful weapon in the form of a blue gemstone, which is why he created a pink equivalent of the new structure.
But now, he was not a mighty chem-baron; he was a father. What he had done today was returning to him with double force in his mind, like blunt blades hitting straight into his heart. He felt guilty, tormented every time he thought of the deal he had signed. What had he agreed to? What price would he pay?
Who would pay for all of this?
His gaze fell on the only person he trusted unconditionally. The only person for whom his heart still beat, and although he had never said it, he loved her beyond measure. He sighed in despair, slowly nodding his head as if that could chase away all the guilt from his mind. He couldn’t back out. Not now, when the well-being of the greater good was at stake. When the enemy was knocking at their door. He laughed, wiping his rough hand over the eye that was more dead than half the city. A terrible reminder of his last encounter with his friend. His brother.
"Jinx, come to your father," he rasped, stepping away from the vehicle. The alcohol he had consumed suddenly made its presence known, taking away any ability to move on his own. Jinx quickened her pace and grabbed Silco by the arm, looking at his face with concern. She knew something was eating at him. He couldn’t even look her in the face. She grabbed him more firmly by the arm and led him inside the building.
As soon as the heavy doors of her father's office slammed shut behind them, Silco pulled away from his daughter and sat in his large chair. His dead gaze rested on the large window. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to be a good Lord, even if it meant being a terrible father.
"Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?" he whispered, holding a golden bullet casing in his hands. It had an engraving of a monkey, the old symbol of his best soldier. Everywhere such casings appeared, they spun the image of blood and terror, but also of victory. Anyone who encountered them would flee in panic, cursing the owner of that thing. Silco chuckled lightly, finally looking his daughter straight in the eyes. Jinx raised an eyebrow, resting her hands on her arms to steady herself before what was about to come.
"Oh... just spit it out already. Are we supposed to destroy all the shimmer factories? Give them half of what we get from its sale? Or give them the land?" the frustrated girl exclaimed, approaching the desk and sitting across from her father. She hated when he kept her in this uncertainty.
"Do you really think I’m going through this torment just for that?" he asked, reaching for her hand. Jinx gave it to him without hesitation, and he raised the right corner of his lips as he reached into the drawer of his desk. He grabbed a small object and placed it into his daughter's hand. He gave her one last smile and stood up, adjusting his coat. His eyes darkened, and his face hardened, revealing all the wrinkles and imperfections it held.
Jinx opened her hand, not understanding what it could mean. She held the small golden wedding ring of her mother. She would recognize it anywhere – once, when she was a little girl, she had dreamed of proudly wearing it on her ring finger, just like her mother. But she hadn’t understood then what such a ring meant. A small child didn’t understand what marriage was, and especially not what it meant to be formally attached to another person in such a way.
"Do you have to give them mom's ring?" she asked, not understanding what was going through his mind. She looked at him with a questioning glance, and Silco just shook his head. He hung his head and leaned over the desk, looking straight into her pink eyes.
"Congratulations, my dear. You’re getting married."