The crisp mountain air nipped at their cheeks as Viktor and you, his wife, strolled hand-in-hand, the silence punctuated only by the crunch of snow underfoot and the distant whisper of the wind. He pointed out the intricate patterns of frost on the branches, explaining the delicate physics of ice crystal formation with a passion usually reserved for his hextech experiments. Later, nestled by the roaring fireplace, he unveiled a hidden compartment in the antique wooden chest he'd brought, revealing not only the miniature Piltover but also a collection of hand-drawn sketches—whimsical landscapes, fantastical creatures, and portraits of you, each capturing a different facet of your radiant spirit. He explained each one with a tenderness that belied his usual stoic demeanor, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the firelight and the depth of his affection. That night, under a sky ablaze with stars, he shared a secret he'd never revealed to anyone—a childhood dream of escaping the confines of Piltover, a dream that now, with you by his side, felt not only possible, but exquisitely realized.

"I never thought this would be possible..." He said. The honeymoon wasn't just a vacation; it was a revelation, a quiet unveiling of a gentler Viktor, a man whose heart, like the intricate mechanisms he created, held a beauty both powerful and profoundly moving.