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It wasn’t uncommon for Signora to wake up, shivering not from the cold, but the fear that bubbled up from the images her mind would conjure in her sleep.
Why did you leave me? Why weren’t you there to save me? His voice would echo in her mind, horrific images of his lifeless body flooding her mind.
In the early stages of their relationship, Childe would pretend to be asleep while she quietly sobbed next to him after waking up, figuring Signora wouldn’t want his pity nor his comfort. But as they grew more comfortable with one another, he found himself waking up with her. Holding her, soothingly running his fingers through her hair, whispering meaningless words that she’d find futile comfort in.
She’d never admit out loud just how much it all meant to her.
“Was it him again?” He asked her when she had woken up.
Signora’s nightmares would untangle a web of her darkest fears, memories and anxieties, most of which she would not share with Childe. He would never hold it against her - behind her mask she wore centuries of pain and suffering that he could never even begin to comprehend. How could he possibly ask her to divulge all of it to him? To entangle her soul so closely with his own?
Of all those memories she carried, the most prominent would be those of her past lover. What little Childe knew of him came from the whispers here and there of Signora’s past as a maiden from Mondstadt, and the little she would tell him herself. He knew very well that she’d never stopped loving him, that she would love him for the rest of her drawn out existence.
Signora could only respond to Childe with a weak nod, unable to bring herself to look at him. She often found herself forgetting that he was still a mortal, and that he’d be affected by mundane things such as a lack of sleep. He would always look so unlike himself in these late hours - the thrill in his eyes that came from the prospect of a fierce battle dimmed, visible dark circles forming under his eyes that gazed at her as though she was a wounded animal.
At first she hated it. Stop looking at me like that, I don’t need your pity, she wanted to say so desperately, unable to find it in herself to scream at him in her fragile state. How could she, when he looked at her like that and craved so desperately to help her?
Childe shifted his position, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her in a way that was comfortable for both of them. His fingers tangled into the pale silk threads of her hair, his head resting on top of hers as he pulled her closer. The motions felt practiced at this point, with how many nights they’d done this.
“You’re allowed to fall apart a little, Rosa.” Childe spoke quietly. She stiffened in his embrace as the forgotten name slipped past his lips. Oh how beautiful it sounded when spoken by the warm lull of his voice. The name would bring back memories of a time where she wasn’t so burdened with titles. She wasn’t the Fair Lady, the Crimson Witch or Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers, but Rosalyne . His utterance of her name reminded her that despite it all, she was human, she was still a person.
It was futile to ever hope that she could create another life for herself, she knew this very well. If it were up to her she would shed all of the burdens and titles that rested on her shoulders, run away somewhere where nobody could find her, and bring Childe along with her. How did it get to this point, to a point where she found herself thinking that she would be very content living out a lifetime in his comforting embrace?
“You don’t have to do this.” Signora tells him this often, and always receives the same answer in response.
“I know. But I’ll be here for you until the day I no longer can.”
They both knew there would be a day where they would part. Neither of them would ever speak of it in fear of the implications. For now, all they could do was savour what little time they had left together.
“Don’t leave me.” She whispered in a brief moment of pure weakness, hoping that maybe he didn’t hear it.
“Never. I wouldn’t ever dream of it.” Came the soft reply.
Navigating the darkness of her thoughts would never be easy, but with Childe came a small ember that would make it ever so slightly brighter.