I haven't written fic for a full eleven years, but now I have come to make my triumphant return with…uhhhh... self-indulgent Vi whump! Ta-da! What can I say, I'm here to give the people what they want. Assuming what they want is gore and sad lesbians.
Spoilers for Arcane S2.
This story takes place during, and immediately after, the fight in the commune with Warwick and Ambessa's army. I tried to keep it canon-compliant.
CW: Graphic injury (disembowelment, blood loss/hemorrhagic shock), vomiting, canon-compliant character death.
The roar of battle was all around as Vi broke into a sprint. A Noxian soldier flew past her to land with a screaming crunch among the bodies already littering the ground. Some were soldiers, others villagers. Vi, however, only had eyes for Vander – Vander, she thought desperately – and on his hulking, twisted, half-molten form. Smoking rivulets of lava ran down his face and sides, and from each of the several spear shafts lodged in his back.
He lifted his head and bellowed, more lava spewing from his gullet. He lunged forwards to grab two Noxian soldiers from the melee, one in each massive paw. Their armour was bulky and strong, but Vander could've crushed their skulls even before his hands had been twisted into claws; even before he had been turned into this awful, mutated thing; even before-
Their armour was not enough to save them.
Vi ran. She was getting close to him; the sulphurous orange smoke was thick here, turning the courtyard into a haze of swinging weapons and murky silhouettes. She lost sight of him as it thickened further – but even without seeing him, she could still hear him.
She had never heard sounds like that come out of Vander.
He screamed, loud and long. Someone nearby began to howl in agony, and a hissing glob of lava the size of her fist spattered on the ground to her right. The soldiers around her were so focused on Vander that they hardly registered her as she sprinted through the battlefield, desperate to get to his side. When soldiers did turn to attack, or stood in her way, she took them down with ferocious jabs of her fists, or watched them get dropped by Caitlyn, or blasted by Jinx's gun.
Vi disarmed one Noxian with their own spear, and punched out two more that tried to rush her. A fourth swung his glaive down on her in a wicked arc. Quickly, she seized the shaft and jerked it forwards. When he stumbled, she grabbed his helmet and drove her knee up into his face with all the force she could muster. He crumpled, and Vi moved on to whoever was next. To her left, yet another soldier fell, muscles jerking from the crackling blue energy of Jinx's gun.
There were still so many more. Vi could see them swarming through the orange haze, the blades of spears, swords, and glaives flashing as Ambessa's force surged forward, towards where Vander still howled. How many soldiers had that war-pig brought with her? Fifty? A hundred? The odds were not good – but when were they ever?
Vi had no plan – she just needed to get to Vander, to rip the soldiers away from him, and to do what she did best: get in close and dish out damage; punch until there was nothing left standing.
She pressed onwards, towards the crush of weapons and bodies and the horrible sounds coming from her dad. Around her, more soldiers fell, picked off in quick succession by Caitlyn. A body – a soldier's – hurtled through the air and landed with a squishy thud beside her – and through the smoke, now, Vi could see the great, hulking mass of Vander.
She got only a glimpse before the soldiers closed in around him again, but her breath caught in her throat. Vander.
In the short minutes since the fighting had broken out, the damage he'd sustained was immense. Deep gashes marred his gigantic frame, standing out in bright, dripping orange. His back bristled with spear shafts, each one oozing molten streams that smoked and sizzled in his fur. The Noxians had him entirely surrounded, their shields raised, pressing inwards. Stepping over their own dead to slash and stab at his flanks.
They were killing him. Vi's heart constricted. She needed to get to him. Maybe they could still talk him down. Maybe they could get Vander back, maybe there was still a chance. (In her gut, she knew this was a lie.) But while the fighting continued, trying would be impossible. There was nothing they could do to stop this.
Nothing to do but fight.
Her next punch was a haymaker aimed at a soldier advancing towards the mutated Vander. Her fist connected solidly with his neck, and down he went. The next soldier thrust at her with his long, bladed glaive. She grabbed the shaft and used the momentum from his thrust to pull him in close. Her right hook cracked across his jaw, and before he had even fully hit the dirt, Vi was turning to face two glaive-wielding soldiers who were rushing her flank.
She ducked the guard of the first one and drove her knee up into his gut. He collapsed, and Vi squared up to the second – but as she turned, she saw, too late, his blade flashing up towards her. It swung up low, under the guard of her raised fists, across her abdomen. Vi felt the long, cold tip of the blade slide through her belly, from just above her hip to nearly her navel.
Pain exploded in its wake – she screamed with the intensity. Her knees hit the ground, hard, and frantically she clamped a hand over her side, folding in on herself. Her hand was hot and wet with blood, and Vi had to force down a surge of panic as her fingers slipped along the edges of the gash. Pained whines forced their way out with each breath as she shuddered.
She distantly heard Vander's roar and Jinx's shrill shout, but she couldn't raise her head to look; when she tried, the world tilted dangerously and darkened around the edges. Disoriented, she slumped forwards, the fingers of her free hand digging into the cool dirt at her knees, helping to ground her.
Suddenly, there was someone at her shoulder – a leather-gloved hand on her arm, a voice in her ear.
"Vi! You- you're hurt. Can you stand?" Caitlyn's voice was tight and urgent.
Vi was trembling violently. Mutely, she shook her head, eyes clenched shut against the fierce, deep ache that was spreading through her abdomen.
"Here, let me see," Caitlyn's gloved hand hovered above Vi's jacket, waiting for consent.
But again, Vi shook her head, turning to look up into Cait's face with wide, pleading eyes.
Caitlyn looked back, her expression worried but fierce. "Come on, Vi," she implored.
Vi didn't want to. Partly, she didn't want to move her hand because it was slowing the blood loss, but also, more keenly, she didn't want Caitlyn to see her like this, all shaky and weak and cut open like an eel to be gutted for market. Stubborn, she kept her hand firmly in place, maintaining pressure. A nauseating wave of pain rolled through her, and Vi whimpered desperately through gritted teeth, unable to hold it back.
Caitlyn reached out and ever-so-briefly grazed the back of her hand along Vi's cheek. "Easy, easy," she murmured. Helpless to stop herself, Vi leaned into her touch. "I'm – we have to go."
Her gloved hand tightened around Vi's arm, and Vi found herself being hauled up bodily by her armpit. Before, on her knees, her wound had been pressed shut by her hunched form. Now, as her arm was drawn up to brace around Caitlyn's shoulders, she felt it start to pull open and gape dangerously.
"Fuck," she ground out, pressing her hand harder against her abdomen, fingers slippery, trying to keep the edges of the wound squeezed shut.
She felt sick.
"Come on," Caitlyn urged again. "Vi, We have to leave. Ambessa-"
But Violet's head was filled with buzzing. She felt Cait's firm arm around her, and gently she was steered away from the howling wreck of what was once her dad. Weakly, she fought, twisting to look back at him.
Vander bellowed wretchedly, his eyes bulging and tongue flapping, Noxian weapons protruding from his every flank. Hot, sizzling tears streamed down his face.
"Vander," Vi choked out.
There was no flicker of recognition in his beastly face.
Near him, she saw Jinx's pale form lying prone, struggling to regain her feet. Vi longed to rush to her, but there was nothing she could do to help, not in her current state. So instead she watched, frozen, as Jinx twisted on the ground and Vander vomited lava, growling and gurgling, eyes feral.
"Let's move, Vi." Caitlyn's voice was assertive. She said move and they moved, one shuffled step at a time, away from the heart of the chaos.
Vi tried to focus all her energy on staying upright and making her feet move.
Still, when she heard her sister's desperate scream, of course she turned back. What else was she to do?
Caitlyn felt her turn towards the sound and helped, delicately moving her arm from Vi's back to her waist to help her pivot. "Vi," she pleaded, even as they turned, "We need to keep moving – we can't save him. I'm sorry."
Ignoring her, Vi instead scanned for Jinx's pale skin and blue braids, furiously trying to blink away the darkness from the edges of her vision. She spotted Isha first. The kid stood under Vander's massive legs, Jinx's hextech gun crackling in her small hands.
"ISHA!" She heard Jinx scream, and now Vi saw her, only meters away, braids flying and face smeared with blood. She was sprinting towards Isha.
The kid looked back at Jinx, sweet and calm. Above her, Vander ripped apart another soldier. Isha raised the gun, pointing it up at him.
Vi realized what was going to happen.
There was not a moment of hesitation as she ripped herself out of Caitlyn's grip, even as Caitlyn screamed out desperately after her. Vi paid her no heed. Jinx was running to her death; Vi couldn't let that happen. It was that simple. Not after Jinx had saved her own life. Not after they had just been reunited.
Fresh adrenaline dumped into her system, heartbeat kicking into high gear. Her breaths were coming fast and harsh as she ran, left arm still clamped determinedly over her side. Each step shot a lance of pain through her stomach, but, drawing from her deepest reserves of energy, she pushed it aside. Pain was nothing; she needed to get to her sister.
She and Jinx were both running flat-out when they collided. Vi wrapped her in her arms and held on in a desperately tight embrace. Jinx kicked at her, crying out in wordless anguish. She twisted violently in Vi's grip, and Vi screamed as she felt an agonizing tear along her left side.
"No!" her sister was shouting. "No, no, no! Isha!"
Still, she held on tight, pulling Powder in close to her chest even as she wriggled and thrashed to escape. Vi threw her weight backwards, pulling Jinx away from Vander, and from where Isha stood observing them.
Jinx shrieked with rage as she realized what Vi was doing, and she kicked and writhed and clawed with renewed fervor. Vi received an elbow in the gut, and for a moment the world went muffled and dark as a guttural sob ripped from her throat.
Jinx struggled in her loosening grasp, and it was all Vi could do to keep holding her. She grunted through her teeth, keeping her sister trapped in the bear hug.
"Please, please," Jinx was begging, eyes fixed with horror on Isha's. "No."
Through the mass of soldiers, Vi saw Isha point a finger gun at them and, with a little smile, pull the imaginary trigger.
(She looks so much like Powder, Vi thought.)
Then the girl took a breath, looked up at Vander, and pulled the trigger of the real gun.
Vi saw it all: the small finger depressing the trigger; the sudden, initial crackle of the volatile hextech; Vander's agonized roar; Isha, her eyes closed, her expression one of peace. Jinx howled brokenly, fists uselessly beating against Vi's arms.
She felt every hair on her body prickle.
They were too fucking close.
Jinx screamed, falling back as the hex crystal detonated. Vi used one last, desperate burst of energy to turn and grab her sister, curling over her body, using her own as a shield.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Her vision flashed to bright white, and then to black.
...
Cool dirt against her cheek. Sulphur and iron in her nose.
...
Something tickled at the side of her face. When her eyelids fluttered briefly open, two pink rings of iris stared back at her.
White-hot pain rippled across her shoulders and down her spine. Her head pounded, and her midsection felt like she had been ripped in half. Sharp, agonizing nausea rolled through her.
Vi whimpered, and slipped back into the darkness.
...
Someone was calling her name.
...
There were hands on her. She was being moved – turned onto her back.
Vi felt a sharp twinge in her gut, and groaned softly as she experienced the disgusting, deeply unsettling sensation of organs sliding wetly out of her body.
...
"Vi? Vi. Vi!"
It was Caitlyn.
Their eyes met; Cait's were huge and terrified. Vi saw them dart down to her abdomen, and back up just as quickly. Vi was facing up and couldn't see what Caitlyn had, but, seeing her shaken expression, she felt cold dread settle in her chest.
Something pressed soggily into her midsection, applying firm pressure, and her whole body jerked violently at the terrible ache of it. She cried out, her own voice ragged and weak in her ears.
Caitlyn was saying something, but the words skittered across her consciousness without registering in her brain; like rats across concrete, leaving no footprints.
There was another voice now, too, hoarse but familiar. Two hollow, pink-ringed eyes appeared in her vision. They held her gaze – but only for a heartbeat, before they blinked away, and were gone.
Vi tried to say something, to cry out to her sister, but all she managed was a loud, embarrassing whimper in between shallow breaths.
Warm fingertips gently cradled her jaw. Head swimming, Vi blinked up into Caitlyn's eyes. Before, they had looked terrified. Now, they simply looked lovely, like deep pools of calm blue water. Vi let herself be soothed, watching them as they darted over her.
The fingers slid to the side of her neck.
"So sweet," Violet murmured, mostly to herself as she felt the world start to slip away again. "Like a cupcake."
...
Her eyes opened again, lids slow and heavy. Gradually, the world filtered back in. The pain was still there, but it felt quieter now, less consuming.
Cait's face still floated above her, but she had turned to speak to a man standing behind her. Vi recognized him, maybe, but not enough to know from where. He had a beard, and a fancy piltie jacket in tatters.
He looked fucking haggard.
He spoke, animated with intensity. His voice was deep and urgent. Vi struggled to comprehend his words, brain sluggish. Slowly, they filtered their way down into her murky thoughts. "Come on," he said. "We need to get outta here!"
Caitlyn's voice shook when she replied. Vi wished she knew what she'd said. The man knelt next to her, and the motion made Vi's head spin. More was said, but the words and voices blurred together, indistinct and distant.
Something was tapping at Vi's collarbone, hard and insistent. She opened her eyes – she hadn't even realized she'd closed them again – and saw Powder in front of her, tapping her metal middle finger on her chest.
Her expression was detached; stoney. Her eyes looked so, so sad.
Powder. Vi tried to reach up for her, but all that resulted was a twitch of her hand. She tried to speak, but again only managed a feeble moan.
The tapping stopped.
There were more words; a sudden flurry of movement. They were shifting positions around her, and Vi had to squeeze her eyes shut to avoid being sick. The world spun dizzyingly. It was almost like being drunk – there was a certain comforting familiarity in that, at least.
Her eyes flickered open again when she felt the pressure lift off her wound. Above her, she saw nothing but smoke and dust - Caitlyn was no longer there. Vi hated herself for the loneliness and fear that washed through her in Cait's sudden absence.
She felt hands on her limbs and body, but couldn't identify their owners. Through her dulled senses, a sharp cramp began radiating from her belly, and Vi moaned quietly.
Lying face-up, limp and helpless, she stared at motes of dust swirling leisurely above her.
Vi was used to soaking up damage. She was built for it – she'd been weaned on the street fights of the Lanes, after all, and raised in the bloody pits of Stillwater. She had been kicked; stabbed; beaten until the world around her turned to a blurry mush. Vi knew her body, and knew her limits – she had met them too many times not to.
This felt different. She felt a heavy, abject wrongness in her gut - something she had never felt before. That scared her. Everything hurt - her head, her back, her hands, her fucking stomach - but she couldn't quite pinpoint the individual injuries. It was all becoming a confused, muddy din of sensation. Her breathing was fast and shallow as she felt a deep fear grip her. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, as if she was still in the fight, still sprinting towards Powder.
Cait reappeared above her, face sweaty and pale. Softly, she clasped Vi's face in both her hands, saying something gentle and pleading. Vi's skin was cool and sweaty, and in contrast Caitlyn's felt burning hot.
The world moved around her again, and Vi had a moment of wild confusion. Am I on a ship now? The ground under her seemed to roll and pitch like a boat on the waves. But no – she had been picked up; she could tell from the thick, solid arms braced under her knees and back. Each jarring step made her gut twinge ruthlessly. She could feel wetness slicked across her whole front, soaking into the man's broad chest, pooling in the bend of her waist, dripping into the dirt below.
She felt, very strongly, that she was going to die.
But Cait and Powder were there beside her as they walked, and she felt a hand close over hers, and maybe dying wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all.
She let her eyes slide closed. There were more words, but Violet did not hear them.
Author's Notes:
Vi gets disemboweled, sorry folks, that's it, that's the fic! This first chapter was just focused on Vi's POV of the battle and her injury; eventually there should be more of this story, which will focus on Caitlyn's POV (because Vi passes tf out and doesn't have a POV after this). I had fun using Vi's perspective as an unreliable narrator, especially as she starts to get less lucid and starts doing corny things like gazing into Caitlyn's eyes, and generally being wayyy more vulnerable than she'd be otherwise. But that's why we like whump as a genre, yes?
Hopefully I managed to strike a good balance between the emotional beats, action, and whump. Comment and let me know what you think!
I drew inspiration from Tamsyn Muir's ability to write gore so viscerally that it almost feels like a sex scene. I mean, who hasn't wanted to flop around in agony while your gf homoerotically takes your pulse? Just me? Also, shoutout to commandmetobewell's "my words go dry (you alone keep me alive)" on AO3! I had already headcannoned that Vi got disemboweled in this fight (it took THREE doctors to patch her up?!), but their story - especially the idea of Caitlyn watching Jayce and Jinx stuff Vi's insides back in - was what got me rotating it around in my head until I had to write about it.