My Genshin Side Piece

Your entrance to the Snezhnayan court had been a quiet one. Your husband, despite his status, wasn’t much for personal fanfare. Unlike some of his brethren, he had no need for ostentatious carriages or trumpets announcing his arrival. Capitano preferred stealth to openness, calm to chaos, simplicity to complexity. A plain carriage had driven the two of you onto the palace grounds, where you passed by the notice of the crowd who lingered outside the gate. Despite your husband’s good reputation, you had been grateful for their lack of interest. Your poor body wouldn’t have been able to handle dealing with the attention you would have received. The slipping and rocking of the carriage against the icy streets had done little to help the severe bout of motion sickness that you had suffered under since you had left home. Despite numerous pleas to the Hydro Archon for their blessing, the seas hadn’t been kind to you. The ship had spent most of the journey being tossed around like a ball in a tin cup by the waves and storms that had plagued it. As a result, you had spent the better part of your journey in bed, with your husband hanging close to your side. Upon your arrival to the land of ice and snow, Capitano had insisted you be taken to the palace to rest and recover from one journey, before you made a second leg of the trip to his estate in the heart of Snezhnaya’s countryside. In his words, he wanted you happy and well. At the time, you were grateful for his care. Now, you silently wished you had been a tad more observant. If you had, you would have noticed the single star shaped pupil that began to follow you everywhere you would go. 

“Excuse me” The intrusion of a soft voice broke your train of thought. You jumped back slightly, your heart leaping into your throat at the thought of being found lost in your own thoughts. The imposing doors in front of you had opened, and in the space between them, stood a smaller man in a Fatui uniform. He gazed at you with a rather curious expression, utterly confused as to why you were silently standing outside of the director’s apartments, staring at the floor. “Apologies-” Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I-” You didn’t even know what to say or how to excuse it. How could you? What reasonable explanation was there for questioning your own life choices outside of the Jester’s door? 

Those that sought his favor often haunted the hallways leading to his office or the grand space that was the Tsaritsa’s throne room. The dimly lit corridors that lead to his private apartments were devoid of any life. You had no viable reason to be here beyond the actual purpose for which you had been summoned. Hence his curiosity. “I suppose this isn’t the best place to stand.” He gave you a forced smile. “Unfortunately not.” His hands tightened around the edges of the doors. “If you’ve come to speak with the Lord Director, then I’m afraid he’s indisposed. At present, he is expecting an important visitor and has asked not to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening. If you have an emergency, then I can see if there is a harbinger lurking about.” 

A harbinger. There were quite a few nearby. You had passed the rich one and the short one on your way here. They had been discussing some matter of state that you were ignorant of. The new one, who you hadn’t been introduced to, had been sulking about as well. He had been standing a few paces off the short one, presumably ready to intervene should things get too lively with the rich one. Conspicuously absent though, was your husband. It had been your sincerest hope to pass him on your way here, if nothing else than to see him, but you had not. Capitano had been scarce since you had agreed to this little rendezvous. Part of you began to wonder if it was by design. “If there is no emergency-” You turned your focus back to the man in front of you, gently shaking your head. “Then may I be of service?” You hesitated, which wasn’t entirely appreciated on his part. “Not to be rude, but I am on my way to fetch someone. If you have no business here beyond blocking my lord’s doorway, then I ask that you go elsewhere.” The urge to take him up on that offer was strong. Archon help you, if only you could. You would run as far as your legs would carry you and never look back. There was just one issue with it, your husband. You doubted he would appreciate you making a fool out of both of you simply because you were scared of what was waiting for you on the other side of the door. “I-” You took a deep breath, summoning all the courage you had to finally speak to him. “I believe I may be the one you were sent to fetch.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The lord director sent for me this afternoon.”  

“You’re Lord Capitano’s spouse?” He sounded about as impressed as he looked, which wasn’t very. You fidgeted under his gaze, hating how he silently assessed you. Had you been in a better state of mind and not ready to fall apart, you would have scolded him for it. “Finally.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Where have you been? The lord director is most displeased.” You forced the heavy lump that formed in the back of your throat down. It hadn’t been your intention to displease anyone. The fact that you had, didn’t bode well for the remainder of your evening. “For-” He was quick to cut you off. “You’re terribly late. Were you not instructed on the time?”

“I was.” You briefly hesitated, your mind rapidly trying to find some excuse as to why you had tarried. “I got lost.” The excuse was a lame one, but it was the best you could manage considering the man’s harsh stare made your stomach flop around inside of you. “This place is so large. I had to forego the usual tour as I was unwell when I arrived.” The look on his face told you all you needed to know; he didn’t buy it. 

Detailed instructions, including directions, had been provided to you. There had even been an offer for one of Pierro’s assistant’s to show you the way, lest you actually get lost. To claim that as an excuse for your tardiness after turning the guide down was literally the most idiotic thing you could say in the moment, but you had nothing better. Telling him you didn’t want to be here wouldn’t help, nor would admitting the real reason as to why you had been summoned here. Even if he already knew, the idea that you would tell one of Pierro’s lackeys that you were here to bed his superior was too humiliating for words. It was easier to let him think you were an idiot. For the time being, it spared you the blushes of him thinking any worse of you. “I see.” He took a step back, pulling the doors open for you. “Then I trust then that you are aware that should you make him wait in the future due to your own personal incompetence or otherwise that you will suffer the consequences of your actions.” Your heart leapt into your throat at the very thought of the repercussions the Jester could make you suffer, should you displease him again.

The man, who later you learned was named Evgeniy, led you through the dimly lit foyer of Pierro’s apartment and down a small passage to what he described as a sitting room. The room, like the foyer, was unlike the rest of the palace. It possessed the same grandeur as the shining halls of Zapolyarny, but here the gilding here had long faded to a dull shine. The wax of dimming candles coated many of the surfaces that weren’t covered with papers or books, with the large fireplace being the main source of light in the room. The flickering light helped to emphasize the wear on the cold marble floors. Entire paths in the polish had been worn away due to years of use. To you, it seemed that the faded glory of the space reflected the age & experience of the man who occupied it. 

Evgeniy cleared his throat, drawing your attention to a table at the far end of the room. Your eyes took in the piles of papers, refusing to see the large figure hovering over them. It was your rather foolish belief that if you did not acknowledge Pierro’s presence, then he wasn’t really there. It was a belief that you clung to as Pierro lifted his eye from the paper he had been reading, to meet both your and Evgeniy’s gaze.    

“Ah” The annoyed edge that grated against his tone softened as he took you in. “At last.” With a flick of his fingers, Evgeniy bowed, swiftly leaving your side in silence. Your eyes followed the smaller man, silently imploring him to stay, but he didn’t. He gracefully exited the room offering both of you a second low bow before he was gone. “Good evening.” Your head snapped back in Pierro’s general direction, finding that he had moved closer. “I understand you’ve been unwell since arriving in our fair country. Hopefully I’m right in assuming that you’re now on the mend?” You had, but tonight wasn’t really all that good for your recovery. Your stomach felt like it had been tied in a knot and your whole body felt wobbly. Briefly, you considered whether or not that could be your saving grace. You were already as pale as a ghost, you wondered if you could get away with a fake fainting spell to avoid the inevitable. “I-” One look at him told him it was probably best not to try it. He was already annoyed that you had been late. You doubted he would allow you to get away with a bout out illness, real or otherwise. “I am, Lord Director.” A quick bow to him followed. “And you? Are you well?” He gently smiled at, closing the remainder of the small distance between you. “I am faring better than I was ten minutes ago.” You inwardly cringed, forcing an apologetic smile onto your face when he stopped in front of you. “I thought that my illustrious Captain might have changed his mind. He’s been terribly worried over your health. He had concerns you might not be up to the task. How nice to see that wasn’t the case.” You forced a small smile, trying your best not to shake too much when you nodded.

“No, my lo-.” You faltered when he gently reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek when he tucked a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Lord.” There had been an excuse prepared. You’d been suffering from a headache, the clothes didn’t suit, your hair didn’t fix, but one stern look from him silenced them all. He neither needed nor wanted them. Why should he, when they wouldn’t change the fact that he finally had you?

Pierro pulled away from you, gesturing for you to take a seat on the small sofa that was situated in front of the fireplace. Between them was a low table with a highly decorated porcelain and metal drink set resting on top of it. As you moved closer, the faint smell of cinnamon and turmeric, mixed with the rich aroma of coffee filled the small space. You perched yourself on the end of the sofa, watching him as he drifted by you to take a seat on the opposite end, near the drink set. “You’re shivering.” The ache in holding your shoulders as stiff as possible had given way to it. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Not when the source of present woes was sitting a foot away from you. “Poor dear, allow me to warm you up.” 

He began pouring the coffee, both of you knowing the cold had nothing to do with your shaking. Still, Pierro seemingly ignored the real cause, choosing only to smirk at you once he had finished with your cup. “I do apologize for calling you so late.” He handed you the ornate cup, his gloved fingers caressing the tips of yours. Much to his amusement, you were quick to pull back, clutching the warm porcelain to your chest. “I had intended a dinner for you.” He turned away from you again, busying himself with his own cup. “It’s fitting for the first night we’ll spend together, that we have dinner first, but I do not yet know your preferences. I thought to serve you some Snezhnayan delicacies, but regrettably I lost track of time. Something came up that stole my attention from my plans for this evening.” You had to silently wonder if it was the same thing that stolen Capitano from you this afternoon. He had promised to visit with you after you had agreed to this little fiasco, only for him to back out at the last moment. You had been devastated. His apology for his abrupt cancellation had come in the form of the outfit he had wanted you to wear for tonight, as well as a note that simply told you to do your best. “I do hope coffee is an acceptable substitute for now.” He finished pouring, setting the pot to one side. 

Pierro looked up, his eye connecting with yours once again. It was oddly nice to see Pierro’s face, even if he was terribly frightening. The one quality you disliked about your husband was that he never allowed you to see what was hidden under his mask. You spent all your time speaking to a dark void. During your swift courtship, it had made him difficult to read. You had to learn his moods and preferences based on his voice. Not the easiest thing, considering he rarely showed any emotion beyond calm. It had been your hope that perhaps he would let you see his face once you were married, but that wasn’t to be. He only chose to remove his mask when he was assured you were asleep or when he opted to employ a blindfold to shield your eyes in the waking hours. You had pleaded with him to reconsider both courses. It would make things easier between you if he did, but he always gently refused. You were told that the discomfort regarding his mask was temporary. Once the two of you arrived in Snezhnaya, it wouldn’t be a problem. You learned what he meant by that upon said arrival. Your life together at sea quickly became a life lived separately on land. Capitano’s presence in your life had been reduced to that of a dark spector in the doorway of your bedroom bidding you good morning and good night. Your days were empty or at least devoid of his person. Efforts to see him were in vain. His assistants and secretaries all fed you the same excuse. He was far too busy. You were always asked to return to the apartment by way of the path that took you past the director’s office and wait for your husband to return home. 

Pierro’s pursuit of you was in no way subtle. It didn’t need to be. As the Director of the Fatui, the Jester had carte blanche to do as he pleased. The only person that could hope to reprimand him was the Tsaritsa, and even then it was doubtful that it would ever happen. He had her wrapped around his little finger, just as he did everyone else. It was testament to how charismatic he could be. You almost wished you could fall under the same spell the others had, at least then your present situation might be tolerable. 

“You are so very lovely.” His voice brought you back to reality. “Perhaps once Capitano has departed for his next mission I can make it up to you.” There was an odd smile that ghosted its way across his pale lips. His eye left yours, traveling over your exposed neck and down across your shoulders. “We’ll know each other better by then.” You didn’t pay his gaze much attention, because your mind had focused on one singular thing, the word departed. You couldn’t stop what  color you had from leaving your face. “He’s-” You nervously swallowed, forcing the bile that had shot its way up into your throat back down. “He’s leaving?” Somehow, you managed to force out a little laugh. “We uh -” Your lips pressed themselves together into a hard thin line before you finished your thought. “We only just arrived.” In your mind, the stay at the palace was supposed to be temporary. “Surely you’re referring to us journeying to his estate in the country.” And not that you were being abandoned to Pierro’s care.

Together, you had planned to see the sights of Snezhnaya with your beloved husband. He had promised you so many things to make up for the rather botched and rushed wedding you had had. One of them had been a proper honeymoon of sorts. The rough nights at sea had been calmed with dreams of morning rides through the snow at his estate, while the afternoons would be spent by the hearth of the fire as he told you stories of battles won. Now all of that was reduced to ashes at the mention that Capitano was going away again, without you. Your horror at the thought had to be apparent. Why else would Pierro’s gentle chuckle resonated in your ear? “How terribly awkward.” The Jester’s weight shifted and you felt him inch closer. “I would have hoped he would have told you, but perhaps you didn’t see him before I sent for you.” In the back of your mind, you knew Pierro had insured you hadn’t heard, but for whatever reason you tried to tell yourself that’s not what had happened. In Capitano’s haste to apologize for canceling your plans, he had forgotten to mention the trip. “You have my sincerest apologies my cecilia, but this can’t be helped.” He ran a cool hand over your face, ripping you away from your thoughts. The coffee cup nearly flew out of your hand, but Pierro was quick to steady it with his other hand, preventing it from spilling all over your clothes. He held you like that, the warmth of his hand radiating through his gloves. His fingers took it upon themselves to stroke the back of your hand, while his smile grew. “I was advised you can be a bit jumpy. You needn't worry though.” His free hand came to rest on your shoulder. “It will only be for a few months. You’ll have me to keep you warm while he’s gone.”

There was something in his tone that made your stomach roll. The inference that this wasn’t a one time thing nearly suffocated you on the spot. All at once, everything became too much. The air was too thick, the room was too hot, his hands on your body were too heavy, he was too close. Your mind, along with the room, spun as the panic that you had tried to quell finally took hold of you. The cup in your hand made it’s way to the table beside you as you tore yourself away from the sofa. He tried to grab hold of you, but his fingers weren’t fast enough. You managed to slip away, bolting for the nearest wall. It was your hope to put as much room between you and him as possible, without trying to get past him to get to the door.

“I can’t do this.” You did your best to calm your ragged breathing and pounding heart, but nothing helped. All you could do was stand there and toy with your fingers as you gazed at him with what you felt was absolute agony written across your face. It was your hope that your own internal conflict over the situation would be apparent enough that he might take pity on you and excuse you for the evening. Unfortunately, the Jester wasn’t that magnanimous in his victory. The determination to claim you far outweighed any emotional discomfort you might be having at the moment. So much so, that he met your outburst with complete apathy. He even dared to let his amusement at your actions show when a small smirk played across his thin lips. It was almost as if he was expecting it to happen. It was then that you stupidly realized he had. 

According to many, the man in front of you was eternal. The Fatui had been born by his hands centuries ago, ripped from the ashes of the old world and built using the remains of his homeland. In the time since the Fatui’s founding, Pierro had built himself into a formidable figure. Mysterious and daunting at every turn. He was a weaver of destinies, a decider of fates and a ruler of harbingers. Snezhnaya’s very soul laid in the palm of his hand. Sadly, your soul and your whole future laid in the palm of his hand. He could decide it here and now and no one could save you from it. He wouldn’t even need to call the guard. Pierro was more than capable of handling you on his own. It would be nothing for him to force you into whatever fate he decided, should he need too. 

A chill went down your spine, causing your whole body to shiver. It was hard not to wonder how many other individuals had found themselves in this same position you found yourself in now? How many of them had been willing? If they had been resistant like you, what had been done to make them willing?  He sat where had you left him, intently studying you with that cold, cutting stare of his. The only sound that filled the room was the crackle of the large fire as it buried ominously on the other side of the room. You noticed the way the light from the flames danced their way across his handsome features. You saw the demonic shapes and shadows that they cast, giving the Jester a devilish appearance. The malevolence reflected in the crystal blue orb only seemed to emphasize it even more. “I- I love my husband.” The words spilled out in a thick, jumbled mess as you did your best to stop the tears that were now pricking at the corners of your eyes. Neither had any real effect. Pierro sat as still as a statue, letting you have what he would later describe to you as your little tantrum. 

For now though, duty be damned. You didn’t want to be here. The vows that you had made, while rushed, had been spoken with your entire heart. You had sworn on the altar of your archon to be faithful to your husband. To break that vow, even with Capitano’s consent, felt wrong. The entire situation felt wrong. Surely he had to know that. “You have my sincerest apologies, my lord, but this isn’t right. This isn’t me.” He remained silent, still holding you fast with his gaze for a moment or two longer before he finally responded. “New brides really are the sweetest of flowers. How fortunate Capitano is to have found himself such a lovely one amidst the wilds of Teyvat.” You furrowed your brows in utter confusion. “I’m sure your assertions of love and devotion will warm whatever heart he may have.” But it would do nothing to save you from Pierro. “Perhaps it will be enough to spare you from his disappointment when I tell him you refused me.” A light, breathy laugh broke that thought. “But then again, he does hate being disappointed, almost as much as he hates dereliction of duty.” You were beginning to hate that word almost as much as you hated how it was being used. It wasn’t your duty to be here anymore than it was your duty to mop the floors or light the fires. Your presence here was the result of Pierro’s control over his subordinates and nothing more. The concept that he expected you to pleasure him as if it was an act of service was revolting. “I suppose he could spare you his wrath since you are his most beloved spouse. After all, your refusal is coming from a place of fidelity. I imagine he is honor bound to be obliging.” He paused for what you assumed was dramatic effect. “But I would doubt it.” You forgot your own discomfort long enough to ask the one question you shouldn’t have asked. In part, because you had to live with the reality of the answer. “Wrath?” Capitano had never once raised a hand to you. The thought of him even trying sent another shiver down your spine. He had always been deliberate with his touch. Capitano understood his strength. It was nothing for him to leave marks or bruises without trying. It would be nothing for him to strike you dead should he try to. “He would never-” The confidence in that statement failed when Pierro laughed at it. The words to finish it died on your tongue. 

Slowly, the older man stood, groaning slightly as his body shifted despite its stiffness. It was the first indication that you had seen that Pierro might possess some human qualities. “Your husband believes in the fulfillment of one's duty, regardless of whether you view it as personally honorable or not. Service to the Fatui, Service to the Tsaritsa-” Service to the director. “Come before everything else. He will not tolerate failure where it is concerned. He expects nothing short of perfection in his soldiers and he will expect nothing less of you.” Orders were orders. “Should I tell him that you have displeased me, then I have little doubt he would do all that he could to correct it.” Your eyes dropped to the floor at the thought of that. You used the last scraps of your denial to tell yourself that your husband wouldn’t go that far, that he wouldn’t force you into another man’s bed, but your presence here was already proof that he would. You hadn’t been begrudgingly sent as some kind of sacrifice to Pierro’s wanton desires, you had been gift wrapped in the finest Capitano could afford and presented with pride to the director like a prize at a fair. Despite his endless professions of love, in the end, your husband had been all too happy to give you away to a man he deemed his superior. “I-” Your mind spun at the possibilities of what could happen if you didn’t do as you had been told. For the first time, you saw the man your parents had seen. They had told you he was dangerous. They had warned you he would bring you nothing but ruin. They had done all that could to stop you from making what was now the biggest mistake of your life, but you hadn’t listened. Instead, you stupidly believed you were getting your promised happy ending. You had run away with him, marrying him on the bow of the ship that had brought you here. You had laid with him night after night dreaming of a brighter future. You had prided yourself on being so smart. How could you have not seen that your shining knight wasn’t your savior, he was your villain? 

The sound you made was inhuman as your back collided with the cool wall behind you. The scratchiness of the wallpaper against your neck and shoulders exacerbated the waves of panic that were shooting themselves through your body. Across the way, you heard the faint sound of Pierro’s boots shuffling their way across the plush area rug as he closed the gap between you two. “Perhaps my cecilia is seeing the reality of their situation.” He stopped an arms length away from you, the tips of his ornate boot barely coming into view. “If you are, then I may not have to tell your husband about your misstep after all.” You looked up at him, blinking back the tears that freely spilled over the apples of your cheeks. “Your concerns regarding the morality of the situation have been noted.” And promptly ignored. “Since this is our first night together, I will give you a choice.” Or at least the illusion of one. In truth, there was only one choice and it had already been made for you, by two men who were not you. 

You leaned against the wall for support, watching his long fingers as they reached into his side jacket pocket for something. “You may choose to take my hand and willingly follow me to my bed. If you do, then I can be persuaded to forget your hesitancy regarding this matter, provided you are obedient from now on.” You swallowed, continuing to stare up at him. “Or you may drink this.” He produced a small vial from his pocket, holding it up with two fingers. “It will render you unconscious-” A small chuckle slipped past his lips. “Or at the very least render you incompetent enough to where you won’t remember this night. But-” He drew the moment out for his own personal amusement. “It will render you piliant to whatever punishment I deem is fit for you.” Much his delight, you failed to stop the small whimper that had been building in your throat from escaping. The word punishment added a whole new level of terror to an already frightening situation. Pierro wouldn’t punish you lightly. While he had enjoyed your skittishness in the beginning, you had clearly tried his patience. Men like him didn’t enjoy being tested. So far, he had been generous with you, but you knew it wouldn’t continue. Pierro commanded loyalty, he commanded respect. His expectation was that you would fall in line and do as you were told. If you disobeyed, he would make sure you would never do it again; either by his own hand or via Capitano’s. 

“I should warn you though.” He gave you a cruel smile, spinning the small vial between his lithe fingers. “Should you opt for the potion, I will make up for your lack of memory come the morning.” There was another cold laugh that followed that. Your only reaction was to shrink back, pressing yourself further into the wall. What should you do? What could you do? Take his hand in the hope that he hurt you less tonight versus the pain you could feel come the morning? Then there was your husband to consider. What would you face once you returned to your shared apartment? How would Capitano cope with the idea that you had behaved badly? Would he be proud that you had done all you could to remain faithful, despite his very clear consent, or would you face further punishment because you had proved an embarrassment to him? 

A new kind of horror filled you.  

You couldn’t help but falter, the lump in your throat feeling as if it would choke the very life out of you. Your knees failed, buckling under your own weight. You didn’t register that you were on the floor, nor did you register that Pierro had followed you, kneeling next to you as the reality of your situation crushed the last of your resistance under its weight. “Come now child.” The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. He tried to mask it with concern, but it was still there. He had enjoyed watching you break right before his eyes, just as he enjoyed the fact that the game between you was over. Now all he had to do was take you how he wanted you. 

You didn’t know where he had come from or who he was. All that you knew was that he had materialized while you had been gone and he was bleeding. It took a moment or two for your initial shock to wear off. Not the best reaction considering he was badly wounded, but what else could you do? You lived alone, in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t every day that an incredibly handsome stranger turned up in your house, let alone unconscious on your bed. You had to get past the sight of him before you could ever start to help him. The face of an angel, broad shoulders, long muscular legs, and hair that was the color of fire. He was magnificent. He was also half dead.

Snapping out of your stupor, you set your basket down on the floor, rushing over to his side. While his clothes were practically coated, your initial assessment revealed that not all of it was his. The main source of his blood was a deep cut on his left side. You would regrettably need to undress him to see if there were any other wounds hiding under his heavy waistcoat and shirt. “Sir?” He didn’t respond. You pressed your hands into his chest, giving him a little shake in the hopes that would help. “Sir, please.” Another shake. “I’m going to remove your jacket and vest. Is that alright?” Again, nothing. He just continued to lay there, his brow growing paler by the second. “Fine.” You began the struggle of getting his jacket off. “But if you wake up, don’t be mad. I did ask.”  

Undressing him was a ghastly affair. In part because he was an entirely unwilling participant. Even with his athletic figure, he was still heavy for you. His arms refused to cooperate when it came to the tight sleeves of his overly ornate jacket. His torso flopped the second you let go of him. You would have had an easier time wrestling a dead puffer fish. It took every ounce of strength you had just to get his jacket off. By the time you were done, you, your clothes, the bed and him were all covered in a mix of fresh and congealed blood. The sight made you gag slightly.  As a small measure of revenge, you tossed the cursed jacket aside, taking the thunk of the chains on the floor as a personal victory. Good riddance to it. Thankfully the rest of his clothes were less of a challenge.  Even with the heavy gash in the rich fabric, the leather straps of the waistcoat unbuckled with relative ease and you were finally able to get to his body. Another small victory. In any other case, you would have celebrated that fact. In this one, all you could do was groan.

The laceration in his side was long and it was deep. You guessed it had been made with a sword, but you had to wonder. There was a Fatui camp over the next ridge. The deep burns on his shirt and around the edges of the wound made you wonder if he hadn’t run into one of them. It also made you wonder if they were looking for him. The thought alone made you pause. The last thing you wanted was to be arrested for aiding a potential criminal. Your friends were few and far between out here. The one neighbor you did know wouldn’t help you. The rest wouldn’t bother to wait for you to be gone before they looted your cabin. But the alternative was to let him die. Surely you couldn’t do that, could you? 

Your eyes went back to his face. They traced over his handsome features while you silently questioned what you should do. Letting him die was wrong. You knew it was, but you also had to think about yourself. If he had gotten in a scuffle with the Fatui, then it would be both of your heads if they found him. But that was a big if. Surely if he had they would have been here by now, right? Maybe he wasn’t what you thought. Maybe he was a soldier or a mercenary that was just passing through. Maybe he had been attacked by treasure hoarders. “Archons-” You rubbed the bridge of your nose in frustration. There were too many what ifs to justify doing anything but helping him. You had no other choice. 

Pushing off the bed, you made a b-line for the medicine cabinet in your small kitchen. He needed a poultice and some stitches. As for the rest, you could ask him how he got into this mess later, if there was a later. For now, you knew you had enough supplies to get him through the night, but you would need to restock come the morning. You rolled your eyes at the thought of dealing with the Fatui soldiers who seemed to occupy the roads these days. Archon forbid they stopped you and began to ask questions, especially when you were on your way home. If they were looking for him, then a basket full of medical supplies would be a dead give away. You could worry about that later. For now, all you could do was do your best to keep him alive. 

Thankfully when the morning came, the roads had been empty of soldiers. Thankfully you had been able to get up to the local outpost without incident or question. Only the owner had raised an eyebrow at your purchase and that was simply due to the amount that you were buying. You offered no explanation as to why. You just quietly placed everything in your baskets and went on your way. Your only topic of conversation had been about the Fatui camp that had been wiped out by an unknown vigilante a day or so prior. Apparently carnage and fire had rained down on your region’s unwelcome guests. 

Carnage. Your new housemate had been covered in blood when you had found him. Aside from the wound on his side, he had been relatively unharmed. It proved not all of the blood was his Fire. In addition to the blood, his clothes had also been singed in whatever battle he had fought. You had dismissed it to running into a Pyro agent. You clung to that theory until you fully undressed him. That’s when you found the delusion on him. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Three days you watched over him. Three nights you silently prayed that you were wrong. That it was a case of mistaken identity. But in your heart, you knew it wasn’t. His body was rife with scars from other battles. The weapons on his person, including the giant claymore and the delusion proved he was deadly. The man, whoever he might be, was dangerous. The entire situation was dangerous. You needed to do something to protect yourself and you needed to do it before he woke up. 

Diluc felt exhausted. His last memory was of stumbling his way towards a small house after taking a strike from the business end of a pryo agent’s attack. After that everything was a mixture of reality and fantasy before it all went dark. The only thing he could discern was that to his relief, he was warm and dry. The feeling of a comfortable mattress and soft sheets added to his feeling of safety, though the lack of clothes was an odd sensation. Whoever owned the house must have helped him while he was unconscious. He could feel the bandages rubbing against the skin of his torso. There was a slight sting from the wound, but wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He went to touch it, only to find the resistance of his hands being bound to what he could only guess was a headboard. “Hm?” He twisted his wrists, feeling the bite of a rough rope against them. It was an peculiar sensation in his groggy state. Maybe he wasn’t as safe as he initially thought. 

Slowly, Diluc opened his eyes a little more, testing his bonds once again. The ropes were loose around his wrists and the knots were poorly tied. His captor wasn’t a very good one. He worked his lithe fingers against his bindings, finding they would be easy to undo if he needed to, but for now he left them be. He had been tied up for a reason. Diluc found that reason when he noticed the sword that was pointed directly at his face. “Oh” He looked you up and down pleasantly surprised by what he saw. As far as being held hostage, he could think of far worse circumstances to wake up to than you. “Hello.” You didn’t answer him. You just stared at him, scared out of your wits. He could tell based on how hard the tip of the sword was shaking. It was a little unsettling, but not unwarranted. The issue was that even if you held the sword wrong, the last thing he wanted was to be stabbed, again. Not after you’d gone to the trouble of getting him well.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Diluc blinked steadily, his eyes continuing to scrutinize the situation. You weren’t a threat to him. Even with his weapons and delusion on the other side of the room, he could easily disarm you. It wouldn’t take much. All he would need would be to get hold of one of your wrists and your positions would be reversed in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t something he was opposed to. He decided you would look cute tied to your own bed. You would look better tied to his at home. It had been awhile since his last tryst. He wouldn’t mind you moaning under him while he…  “W-why are you smirking at me like that?” He blinked again, his thoughts and his attention coming back to the present. “I apologize. I -” He feigned contemplating an excuse for a second before he continued on. “I was thinking of something else for a moment. It was entirely ungentlemanly of me.” He purposefully kept his voice even, in the hopes it would calm you down. It didn’t. You just insisted on standing there, eyes wide with fear while you held the sword level with his face. “Tell me, do you intend to stay like that or will you perhaps take me at my word that I have no intention to harm you?” “I don’t know that.” 

Diluc raised an eyebrow at you. He was entirely surprised by that answer. You appeared to be such a meek little thing. The fact that you hadn’t crumbled in front of him intrigued him more. You could be fun. “There’s a fatui camp not far from here. You dress like them. There’s also a rumor going around at the local outpost that a vigilante burned it to the ground.” He shifted his hips slightly, his smirk returning. Diluc could help but be slightly impressed. “You’re well informed. It is bold of you to make an assumption I’m connected to either based on the few words we’ve just shared. I’m a simple traveler, nothing more.” “It’s not exactly an assumption when you had a map to it in your jacket pocket.” Diluc let out a small chuckle. “It’s rude to go through people’s things you know, especially when they’re unconscious.” “Injured or well, it’s rude to take over people’s homes when they aren’t home.” Touche. “Your clothes were covered in blood. I emptied the pockets to wash them for you.” He felt slightly grateful for that. It saved him the trouble of doing it later. “Even if I hadn’t, you have a delusion and the outpost owner told me the flames from the attack could be seen for miles. He said he’d seen a man with bright red hair pass through a day or so before everything happened. You bought produce from him.” He watched you take a deep breath. “I’m not interested in any trouble from the Fatui or you.” “That is a tad awkward since I’m currently bound to your bed. I’m sure it would make some Fatui underling’s year if they found me like this. No doubt you would get a handsome reward if you decided to turn me in.” You swallowed, the edge that had been lingering in your voice softening slightly. “I’m not going to turn you in. I don’t want you here, but I know what they do to prisoners. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” A sense of relief washed over him. It eliminated the worry of fighting his way out in his current condition, but it didn’t answer the burning question of what you did intend to do with him. 

For the moment he was happy to play your little game, but he knew it would get old, fast. He also couldn’t run the risk of the Fatui finding him here. It was all well and good to joke about it now, but news would spread across the camps in the region. Eventually someone would want revenge. The last place he wanted it to be was here and naked when they did. 

“So….” He lightly shrugged his shoulders. “What now? I am still at your mercy.” You bit your lip as a sign of doubt. The answer was you didn’t know. This wasn’t a normal thing for you. The signs were all there. Tying him up and holding him at sword point after he had woken up was nothing more than a precaution for you. It was likely you had thought he was going to die at one point. But he hadn’t. Now you were at an impasse as to what to do with him. You were alone and in your eyes, Diluc knew he was a threat. He knew you were worried he would hurt you or worse. Part of him was slightly insulted, but he didn’t blame you. It had been a risk to help him at all. You didn’t want to be rewarded with injuries of your own.  

One of the hardest things to do in Snezhnaya was to keep roses. The frigid climate did not lend itself to the fair weather flower. The ground was too hard, the wind too wicked, and the temps far too cold for them to properly thrive. In milder climates, roses could grow outdoors, basking in the warm sun and gentle breeze. They were common, natural, wild even. In the land of winter, locally grown blooms were rare. The requirements to keep them reserved them solely for the wealthiest of Snezhnayan society. To have them was something to be envied. To be able to grow them was something to be admired. To possess a perfect bloom was something that could bring a war to one’s doorstep.  

Years of war had brought a unique kind of patience to Capitano. He had learned to ignore the inflammatory remarks made by his opponents. Endless nights spent in stir had taught him to curb his anticipation. Days spent in tiresome negotiations had taught him to check his eagerness. Bloody battles fought over land and sea had taught him to quell his zeal. He had developed a calm within himself that aided him greatly in his rise to prominence. His ability to listen, to watch, and to wait had won him a seat amongst the Tsarista’s chosen few. Capitano’s steadfast demeanor had provided him access to the first fatuus, granting him the honor of being included in Pierro’s inner circle. His capacity to wage war on any level was what had earned him the respect he coveted. Few in Snezhnaya dared to cross him. Fewer still wanted to know him. 

To the public, the actual man was a mystery. He enjoyed having the reputation of being a black specter amongst the ice and the snow. Capitano made it no secret that his position as a harbinger was to serve as a warning to all those that challenged the will of the Tsaritsa. To insult her was to invite death to your door. He had more than enough victories to prove that. The heads of his latest victory, your countrymen, still hung from the city gates as proof. Yet with all that he had achieved, he had found it was not enough. A hollowness found it’s way into his soul, filling him to the brim. The quiet of the Snezhnayan court allowed him time to reflect. It was an unwelcome side effect in his rise to power. Pierro preferred that Capitano saw less and less of the battlefield and more of the council room. Citing that Capitano was someone the Fatui could not afford to lose in the midst of battle. That’s what people like Tartaglia were for. Capitano was in many ways, irreplaceable. 

If one were to describe him, sentimentality was not something that generally came up. He was a conqueror. He enjoyed the bloodshed of battle. To him there was nothing more honorable than to stand victorious amid the chaos. That didn’t mean that he didn’t carry regrets within him. The things he had done of his own accord and the things he had been asked to do in the name of the Tsarista gradually became a stain that wouldn’t wash off. It echoed off the hollowness that filled him, surrounding him like a cloak as it followed him from place to place, eventually soiling all that he touched. He gradually lost interest in all he enjoyed. He became listless, irritable. The calm in him gave way to the turbulence inside. He sought different hobbies, different interests, but nothing helped. The issue was not one that a simple distraction could fix. He required more. 

Eventually Capitano sought Pierro’s counsel. It was a humbling experience for him to admit he was losing a battle with himself, but the Jester understood. He too had seen his fair share of discontentment in his long life. The violent loss of all he held dear by the hands of the gods and the denial of a natural death had filled Pierro with bitterness. He mourned that which he had lost, even to this day. But he didn’t let his grief control him. He had weaponized it instead. Using it as fuel for his war for peace. As a solution to Capitano’s problem, Pierro suggested absolution. The Tsarista had offered it to the first fatuus all those centuries ago. Perhaps she would do the same for Capitano. 

The price of his absolution was to spend large amounts of his free time in meditation and prayer within the confines of the Zapolyarny Chapel. It was a useless endeavor to him, as it would do little to correct the problem. But he would do as his Archon commanded. He would think, he would pray, and after enough time, he would be made whole again or so he was told. The experience did nothing for the latter. Day in and day out he was surrounded by feckless souls. They all asked for the same forgiveness as him, but none was ever found. It was almost laughable. There they all sat, waiting for an epiphany that would never come. The only thing that made it tolerable was observing the desperation that came when the weak and the corrupt resigned themselves to the fate that awaited them on the other side.  

Capitano came to the conclusion that contrition did not exist in this place. The grand chapel was a stage on which the corrupt could perform for one another. Who could display their piety the best, who could be weakest, who could be the closest to death, who could hold their own righteousness above all. Illusions in his mind. A group of charlatans trying to outdo the other for the benefit of her majesty's benevolence. He made the choice to end his time there. If he was to wash away the darkness, then he was going to have to do it somewhere else. For he would not be made whole here. He walked away, despite the cleric’s insistence that he not. They bemoaned that what he sought was right at hand, but he simply dismissed them. What he sought was not to be found in the church. Empty words would not fill the void within him. Reflection would not purge the stain from him. Only something tangible could do that. The question was what was it? He had money, he had power, he had the respect of those around him and the fear of the rest, yet none of it satisfied him. It left him empty. He didn’t understand. What would it take to make him whole? The answer refused to come, until he met you. 

The journey to get to you had been a difficult one. He had begun it not long after he had abandoned his need for the church. Capitano often passed the cloisters on his way to prayer. The sisters that resided there had always paused to stare whenever he passed by. The sight of him was something to take in, especially in the context of him seeking the refuge of the church. They were frail things dressed in white. Their only purpose seemed to be tending the Tsarita’s beloved winter gardens. He had generally paid them no mind, because they weren’t worth his time. He would only offer his respect to the reverend mother if he saw her and that was only out of duty. At the time, Capitano hadn’t realized the insult he had paid them or rather her by ignoring them. How foolish he was to think that she wouldn’t make him regret it. 

She liked to perch herself on a window sill, not far from the chapel. Sometimes she would be arranging flowers, other times she would be praying, but the alluring look in her eyes had always been the same. She silently called to all that passed her like a siren, beckoning them closer every time they passed by. He had seen the procession to her side on a daily basis. The guilty would attend to their souls with prayer and their bodies in her bed, if she was so inclined. She wasn’t interested in the weak. She liked strong men, brave men, powerful men. There was one who was above him when it came to power, and he rarely attended church. The ones below him weren’t necessarily her type. Of the inner circle, one was mad for the sake of being mad, the other’s greed would never allow for him to lower himself to her level. He would never dare to share something as valuable as power with her. Neither would allow themselves to be controlled. They didn’t yearn to be whole like he did. They couldn’t be led astray by sweet promises of personal fulfillment. That trick only worked on Capitano. He had resisted her at first, but she refused to allow him the peace of his own mind. She had decided she wanted him and as he learned, she always got what she wanted. When she finally managed to lure him to her side, she asked him to call her Rose. 

He sometimes wondered how you would feel about her. Late at night, after he had enjoyed the warmth of your thighs against his cock, his mind would drift to her. He would run his fingers over your soft skin and think back to Rose. Would you hate her if you knew the truth? Would you despise the fact that the only reason you were here at all was because of her lies? Would you curse her more than you likely cursed him for destroying your life? Part of him genuinely wanted to know, if nothing else than to see your reaction. You were so good at denying him that part of yourself. He could have your physical self. He could do what he liked to it. But what laid inside that wonderful mind of yours was a mystery to him. It was forever hidden behind a heavy mask of complete indifference.  That mask nearly drove him mad. Others had screamed and sobbed and wailed, but like him, you were ungodly calm. You couldn’t be bribed with earthly desires, because you had no want of them. You were content in your little prison. Content with all he had provided. Even the lack of company had little effect on you. You treated his lack of presence with the same level of indifference that you had everything else. To his astonishment, you had reached the point where you had thrived in it. 

To Capitano, one of the most fascinating parts of the whole experience was how his latest interest chose to play his game. All of them hadn’t been as accepting as you. They all resisted him. Some chose to physically fight him to the point that they had to be restrained, others attempted escape by bribing his former servants. Those issues had been easy to fix. A few cast offs bought Capitano access to Pantalone’s connections. He had found architects willing to build a chamber worthy of holding his prizes. Capitano traded a single room, with a simple lock for a magnificent prison surrounded by high walls and a maze of locks. He eliminated his need for his servants by sourcing mechanisms from Fontaine that could do things like maintain the fires, fill the baths, and lift food directly from the kitchen to a dining table within the chamber. For the things that the mechanisms could not do, Sandrone had been all too eager to take those same servants in exchange for the mindless automatons that now roamed his house. For the issues that locks and walls could not fix, Dottore’s skills had proved useful. Medicines were concocted in an attempt to cure them of what the good doctor called their disruptive maladies. Heavy sedatives were employed to calm them or keep them in a dreamless sleep if they would not calm. Capitano wasn’t fond of the latter. What use were they if all they did was sleep? One had proven so difficult that Capitano allowed Dottore to try an experimental procedure called a lobotomy on her. It corrected the issues but did little to improve Capitano’s opinion of her. He soon left her in Dottore’s care, hoping to never see her again. The doctor was happy to oblige.

You however, had given him a run for his money when it came to his little game. Others had been easily distracted, either by their own hand or his. There had been no need to distract you. You possessed the admirable quality of being able to pick up on his rules and follow them without any need for further instruction. It was one of the reasons he had picked you. While most of his men hadn’t paid attention to you constantly observing them, he had. A little bird had been paid well to keep extra tabs on you as your name rose up the list. A friend you had once known well. She traded her spot on the officers auction block for a large bag of Mora and her freedom, all while she sold information about you to him. By the time of your selection, he knew all there was to know about your preferences and your past. It was thrilling to think he held your future in the palm of his hand.