Chapter Text
"Well everyone, please enjoy this victory feast. I hope it's a chance to relax your minds and rekindle your spirits, so that we may face what lies ahead with renewed vigor.”
A soft sigh escaped Mavuika's lips as the joyous applause of the crowd died down and the Natlanese dispersed to celebrate the battle won against the Abyss. She had done her best to give the warriors new hope after the tragic and hard battle. For the most part, she seemed to have succeeded... Fortunately. As long as Natlan's people believed in their Archon, so did she. At least as well as she could.
The sweet taste of wine spread on her tongue, but it was not nearly enough to make up for the bitterness of the many losses. Chuychu, Vichama, and all the other countless lives she couldn't save filled Mavuika with regret and doubt. If only she had been quicker.
Chasca hadn't shown up for the party, the redhead had noticed straight away. She definitely couldn't blame her. The Archon hardly felt in a celebratory mood herself, but if she had had to watch her little sister die... Biting her lower lip, she tried to keep her emotions in check. Now was not the time for that. Especially not when the Traveler was approaching her. After all, she had something important to discuss with them; the hopefully final blow against the Abyss.
Her leather-clad fingers drummed gently against the glass. While the battle itself didn’t make her particularly nervous, the fact that she would soon find out whether her 500-year plan would bear fruit did. And although she wouldn't be there to reap those rewards, she fervently hoped that she could bring peace to her people. It simply had to work.
Mavuika concealed her nervousness skillfully during her conversation with the Traveler, managing to maintain her professional demeanor for the most part. Even though she appreciated their company, she was relieved when they said goodbye after a glass of fruit juice and started a conversation with Ororon and the Captain.
Even though she was very grateful for the help, it still felt a little strange to welcome Fatui into her own ranks. And someone as high-ranking as the Captain even more so. It didn't unsettle her at all. Especially now that she knew the Harbinger was as limited in using his full power as she was, it just took some getting used to. But these were not times when she could be picky about whose help she accepted. Looking at the outcome of the battle, Mavuika didn't even want to imagine how it would have ended without the Fatui's help...
She took a big sip of her drink. Given the situation, she could definitely use it: Maybe it would help her relax a little, after all. If even Paimon said she looked tired, it was probably really bad. Using Ronova’s power was no easy feat; her body wouldn’t have lasted much longer. It was strange to feel so weak after such a burst of energy. But somehow she had also missed it—the thrill of a fight that truly pushed her to her limits. When she used the power of Gnosis, that was rarely the case.
Before Mavuika knew it, she was sipping on the next glass, desperate to erase the gruesome images of her fallen comrades from her mind. A burden that came with being the Archon of War. Oh, how much easier everything would be if Natlan was the Nation of Peace. If it was known for delicious tatacos instead of endless war against the Abyss. The thought made her stomach churn. Had she eaten anything today? Mavuika had been so busy going over and executing her battle plan that she couldn't remember.
"Hey Mavuika, how's the victory celebration treating you?"
With the agility of a wildcat, Xilonen hopped onto the bar stool next to her and casually propped her elbows on the bar. Only now did Mavuika notice that some of the younger warriors had already left. Was it already that late? The blonde-haired blacksmith was already yawning too.
“Not bad, I suppose. We’ve earned it. You all fought well out there; you should be proud of yourselves. I meant it when I said this victory was only possible because of every single one of you. So thank you, Xilonen. Especially for taking care of the Traveler’s ancient name,” the Archon replied with a smile on her lips. Nevertheless, the seriousness in her voice was hard to miss.
"No need to get so profound, Mavuika. After all, it’s our country we’ve been protecting," Xilonen smiled back encouragingly, "I think you've had a drink or two too many. You always get so philosophical when you're drunk"
-"Oh no, don't worry, I only had two."
Or was it three? Or four?
"I just wanted thank you for your commitment. Especially as I know I've asked a lot of you..."
... and this might be one of the last opportunities to do so. But Mavuika deliberately left that part out. Partly because she knew her friends might try to stop her from carrying out her plan, and partly because she didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she would also be leaving behind everything beautiful in her life.
“I prefer this to us bickering all the time—like over your sunglasses,” the blonde teased, prompting a shared laugh as they reminisced a little. They talked about the last time they had visited the hot springs together, about Xilonen's last DJ gig, and the time they went surfing with Mualani.
And even if the conversation was carefree at heart, Mavuika couldn’t shake a little melancholy. She would miss them, her friends. But no sacrifice was too great for her to keep them safe. She loved this country and all the people in it.
After a while, Xilonen took her leave, having promised Mualani she’d escort Kachina back to the Children-of-Echoes. The girl had already exhausted herself enough in battle and her terrible experience in the Night Kingdom was still too fresh — the fight had certainly shaken her up more than any other warrior. But she was brave and powerful, Mavuika had learned that about her. It was another reason why she clung to Natlan's traditions; Kachina’s fight against Mualani in the Pilgrimage had given her the confidence she needed to become a remarkable fighter. As long as Natlan's traditions inspired people and brought out the best of them, there was no way Mavuika would sacrifice all that. No matter how little the Captain thought of her plan.
At that moment, she heard heavy footsteps approaching the bar. Speak, or rather think, of the devil... Even though she trusted the Harbinger to a certain extent, she was still a little wary. With people like him, you never knew. Even though Natlan was mostly focused on its own problems, Mavuika was not oblivious to the damage the Fatui had caused in other nations.
Still, she couldn’t deny she had enjoyed their fight—even if it had come at the worst possible time. He was a man of honor; she could see it in his combat style. For Mavuika, fighting was like a dance, in which you could gain a deep insight into your opponent's soul. And what she had seen in Capitano had impressed her deeply, but also left her somewhat conflicted.
His actions showed that he had a deep connection to Natlan, but she was almost certain he had motives beyond the nation’s welfare. Though if only half of what he said was true, she almost pitied him. She hardly wanted to imagine what it must feel like to see one’s own body gradually decaying until all that was left was a corrupted corpse, chained to life only by a curse. It was more than-
"Is everything all right, Archon?" the barkeeper asked as she noticed how the leader's orange-red eyes remained focused on the Captain. Archons... had she been staring? "Oh, yes. Sorry. I was just thinking about my battle strategy," Mavuika smoothly talked her way out before picking up the refilled glass, "Thank you."
Perhaps she shouldn't have ordered this drink: While her eyes were now fixed solely on her glass, she felt a gaze pierce through her like an icicle.
The first Fatui Harbinger had, of course, noticed how the flaming eyes of the Archon were fixed on him. He had expected nothing less; their alliance was only temporary and a good warrior was always vigilant. Nevertheless, he realized there had been no belligerence in her gaze. What was her intention?
Perhaps she was thinking the same thing. The Captain himself didn't know exactly why he was still here. Most of the Fatui who had attended the victory celebration had already disappeared after the Archon's speech and the ranks had thinned out considerably. Even Ororon had left the Weary Inn together with his drunken elder. And yet he was still here. Perhaps he had missed it a little; Natlan’s people. The celebrations. The customs. All the more he was pained by the uncertainty of whether this nation would survive.
He thought the pyro warrior was a capable leader, no question about it. Her determination and strength during today's battle had impressed him deeply. He liked the way she ruled; not by fear and intangibility, like gods. Natlan's people followed the Archon because she was human, just like them. She was an inspiration and managed to give everyone a sense of belonging. Even Capitano couldn't help but be taken with her.
Nevertheless, he thought her attitude towards Natlan's future was a little too optimistic. Perhaps even a little naïve. To attempt the final assault in the Night Kingdom all alone was a great challenge, even for a fighter of her caliber.
He would do everything in his power to prevent the people of this country from suffering the same fate that had befallen him and his homeland. He would not fail again to protect what was important to him.
His grip on the glass of fruit juice resting on the counter in front of him tightened a little. Just like the Archon, he still had a score to settle and it would take everything he had.
Before he knew it, the plan he was pursuing alongside Natlan's rescue took over his thoughts. As did the doubts and worries that went hand in hand with it. Positive thinking was definitely not one of the Captain's strengths. His experiences showed him it was better to assume the worst and be prepared for all possible circumstances. And even if it did benefit him in the end, he wished he could at least enjoy this celebration a little more: To savor this one carefree moment. He at least hoped that the...
Where had the Archon gone?
Mavuika had left the bar before anything worse could happen. In her drunken recklessness, she had been on the verge of asking the Captain the question that had been lingering on her mind for some time... but she had realized she had probably drunk far too much. She now closed the door leading to the Weary Inn and staggered toward her quarters. Truly, this was the worst time to forge connections, no matter how intrigued she was.
She had barely reached the upper ranks of the arena when she heard muffled voices and laughter, making her pause. Her keen eyes immediately fixed on the scene unfolding below her: several Fatui soldiers had apparently distanced themselves from the celebration and were now enjoying their victory outdoors. Let them do as they wished; Mavuika had no intention of forcing them to join Natlan’s festivities. She was willing to ignore them and move on until she realized the warriors had taken notice of her.
The Pyro Archon’s senses were dulled by alcohol, but the Fatui’s derisive remarks rang clear as day. Her gaze bore down on them like two burning comets, waiting only for the moment of impact.
Three of the six fighters leaned casually against the stones of the wall, while the others stood or crouched next to them. Their masks shimmered almost menacingly in the orange-red light of the torches. They had noticed their former enemy immediately, as well as the unusual state she was in. The swaying steps, the tired look... very different from what they knew and expected from an Archon. Even Mavuika's powerful aura couldn’t conceal how this war had worn her down.
"Well, what do we have here?" one of them sneered, his voice distorted by the mask. Mavuika immediately identified him as one of the Fatui who had accompanied Capitano during their first confrontation. "Guess the great Archon of War doesn't seem so invincible anymore... Look, she can barely walk straight."
The laughter of the other men filled the night’s silence, but Mavuika was in no mood for jokes: "Do you have something to say?"
Her voice sounded as commanding and regal as ever, though she knew she shouldn't fight today. Even if it would cost her just a spark of her strength, she needed every bit of it for her upcoming fight. So she hoped her intimidation would suffice.
Indeed, some of the Fatui looked startled when the Archon addressed them directly, but a dark-clad Assassin had the courage to reply mockingly, "We're just wondering if that's the Pyro Throne's true strength, because the way you look right now, you wouldn't stand a chance against our Captain."
"I doubt she could even take on one of us.”
The redhead turned away with a roll of her eyes. All bark, no bite. "I have no interest in destroying the captain's guard dogs," she replied coldly and took a few purposeful steps towards her target, careful to appear as sober as possible.
"Oh really? From where we’re standing, the Captain would make a much better ruler for this land than you. An Archon who drowns her sorrows in alcohol while there are still wars to be won… no wonder your people are dying off one by one.”
She froze mid-step. A painful fire ignited in her chest, and she knew only one way to extinguish it. She quickly grabbed a nearby wooden staff, that had previously been used for training, and jumped into the arena’s pit. Sand swirled around her, obscuring the slight stumble as she landed. She would make them regret every single word.
"You have no idea who you’re dealing with," she snarled. "But if you want a fight so badly, give it your all. You’ll need it.”
Ready as ever, Mavuika stared her opponents down, waiting for their first attack. She noticed the soldier's hesitation. They probably didn't expect the Archon to actually engage in battle with them. But finally, one of them made the first move. The muscular Fatui raised his hammer and swung it toward her. Mavuika had plenty of time to duck aside and evade the strike. The hammer struck the ground with a loud bang, causing it to shake. But the Archon of War remained unfazed. She used the opportunity to ram the tip of her staff into the pit of her attacker's stomach, causing him to reflexively release his hammer. He staggered backwards a little, but Mavuika showed no mercy. A high kick struck the Fatui's masked face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Good. She was one step closer to reclaiming control.
Before she was able to react, the assassin's blade was hurtling towards her. She was unable to dodge in time, so she had only one option: she blocked the blow with her staff, which splintered under the force. Mavuika was quick, however, and used this moment to swing the left part of her staff at the assassin's temple. Unexpectedly he managed to block the attack with his arm. Anticipating that he would immediately strike back, Mavuika dodged to the side and swung a blow, which collided with the assassin's chin in a few seconds and he fell to the sand.
At that moment, the warrior thought she saw another figure in the stands. More Fatui? But there was no time to ponder, as a sharp pain shot through her calf. The assassin's blade had pierced her leg. A scream of pain and blazing determination echoed through the arena as Mavuika turned to face the dark-clad Fatui. She was ready to deal her final blow, but he seemed to be unconscious already. And as much as the Archon hated him for his deceitful actions and thoughtless words, she decided to leave him be. Even in battle, there were rules. Even if her opponents didn't follow them, Mavuika would.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she knew that the fight was far from over. So she turned around swiftly and saw a man with Anemo energy-infused boxing gloves coming towards her. A grin appeared on her face and she let the broken staff fall into the dust. It had been a long time since she’d fought with her fists alone. So Mavuika got into position.
Despite the blade still lodged in her calf, the fight lasted for several minutes until the Archon sent the last man crashing into the sand as well, claiming her victory.
"Anyone else?" she called out confidently, trying to hide the fact that she was out of breath. Her glance at the remaining Fatui warriors revealed they had no intention of challenging her. Their faces showed a mix of astonishment, admiration, but also a spark of fear. Perfect. She had made her point.
"I thought so..." Mavuika huffed as the once so cocky men tried to leave the arena with their wounded comrades. But they froze as another figure entered the battlefield.
Mavuika only saw the shadow with its long, black cloak before her vision became increasingly blurred and the pain in her leg became more and more present. Damn it.
She braced herself against the stone wall of the arena before allowing herself to sink into the warm sand. Blood dripped from her wound onto the ground. When she raised her gaze again, she saw the Fatui soldiers leaving the arena, but their Captain was coming straight for her. Great.
"Apologies for beating up your men. I’d still appreciate it if we could postpone this conflict to another day," she said with a mix of resolve and strained humor.
Mavuika tried to appear steadfast and diplomatic, but the last words, distorted by pain, revealed that the fight had definitely taken its toll on her. However, she felt a little more sober again, that was at least somewhat good.
"Don't be a fool, they acted like idiots and started this fight, so they'll suffer the consequences," instead of stopping as Mavuika had expected, Capitano kept walking forward, until he was standing right in front of her, "They should have known better than to challenge you. One should never take advantage of an opponent's weakened state..." He crouched down until his mask was almost at eye level with Mavuika's face. She could only guess what hid behind it, but she was sure that, in that moment, the Captain lowered his eyes in disappointment. He tapped his finger in the blood that stuck to the sand: "...And especially not by using dirty tricks. I'm sorry. I should have intervened sooner."
A smile spread across Mavuika's face. She hadn't expected the ice-cold Captain to apologize to her in an almost friendly manner. It was a change she very much welcomed. And somehow it confirmed her thought that there was more to him than he let on.
”Ah, don't worry. It was negligent of me to accept this fight, even though I was certain of victory. I got distracted. But I'll heal from that."
But Capitano continued to worry. After all, he was responsible for his forces. Hurting the leader of their allies was a serious offense, and they would face punishment for their deeds soon enough. For now, however, helping the Archon was his priority. In addition to his sense of responsibility, he also felt a twinge in his chest at the sight of the injured woman. When he looked closer, he noticed her exhaustion—both physical and mental. Without hesitation, he reached into an inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a dark cloth to gently dab at the wound.
Confused, Mavuika flinched at the first touch, her eyes burning holes into the deep black that hid beneath the iron helmet: "What is this supposed to be?"
She asked sharply and astonished. Her words immediately made Capitano pause. Had he done something wrong? Did she feel threatened? He had to admit, such interactions were unfamiliar territory for him. It had been a long time since he had personally tended to a comrade's injuries. But she was no ordinary ally; she was the Archon of War. He should have asked for permission first.
"The wound needs to be cleaned and bandaged quickly to ensure a swift recovery. May I?" the masked man explained, nodding his head at the spot where the blood stained the black fabric of Mavuika's jumpsuit. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a helpless pup. I can take care of myself," the redhead sternly dismissed him. She now felt uncomfortable even taking on this fight. She had let her emotions guide her and had taken an unnecessary risk, especially given her upcoming plans. She appreciated his willingness to help, but she refused to let the Captain clean up the mess she had created. She already owed him for supporting her in the fight against the Abyss.
Capitano stopped at her command. He wondered whether it was simply her pride guiding her decision or if there was something more. In her eyes, he thought he saw a flicker of fear. But surely not fear of him. What, then?
In any case, the Fatui could understand her reasoning. If their roles were reversed, he might have reacted the same way. He, too, disliked being seen as weak. Yet the idea of calling the Pyro Archon weak was far from his mind—he had experienced her strength firsthand.
However, her insistence on independence, her refusal to accept help, revealed her vulnerability. She feared losing the Captain's respect if she appeared fragile before him. He knew that feeling all too well.
So he looked at her firmly, his mask giving him an extra air of authority that was in no way inferior to that of Haborym.
"I understand that, Archon. But there is no honor in refusing help when it is offered. Especially not when tomorrow might bring your most important battle yet. I want to save this nation just as much as you do," Capitano argued in a calm but firm voice. He could see the red-orange eyes of his opponent soften. The raging inferno within them now felt more like a comforting campfire. "And no one fights alone."
The Natlanian proverb caught Mavuika off guard, releasing a warm feeling in her chest. She could not argue against it; accepting help from a Fatui was one thing, but accepting the aid of a warrior and ally of Natlan was entirely different. So she nodded, albeit somewhat hesitantly. While she could still take down an entire Fatui camp in her current state, she had to admit she stood little chance against the First Harbinger himself. However, she did not believe that he had ill intentions. If he wanted to harm her, he could have done so already.
"All right..." she relented, wincing in pain as another trickle of blood ran down her leg. "We should leave the knife in for now until we have more bandages to stop the bleeding."
Capitano nodded slightly, glad that he was able to convince her: "Then let me stabilize it."
Mavuika gritted her teeth as the Captain wrapped the black silk cloth around her leg with unexpectedly gentle touches. Normally, she would have urged him not to treat her like a fragile porcelain doll, but she had to admit that the careful graze of his cold fingers on her warm skin somehow soothed her. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps the pain, but she allowed him to continue.
The First Harbinger focused on securing the blade so it wouldn’t cause further injury during movement. From what he could tell, the assassin hadn’t hit any critical areas, but the blade was lodged deep in the muscle, likely causing significant damage. It was crucial to get her to a skilled medic as soon as possible.
Even though his undivided attention was focused on treating the wound, he noticed how Mavuika relaxed more and more. While a fragment of her pride clung to her self-reliance, she seemed to trust him more than she wanted to admit. This flattered Capitano a little.ho would have thought that here, at the site where they had fought as enemies not long ago, they now stood as allies?
Finally, the Captain raised his eyes to look directly at Natlan’s leader. She appeared entirely different from their first encounter: approachable, gentler. No longer threatening, but still powerful. Haborym was a graceful and stunning woman, and even Capitano couldn’t deny it. What fascinated him was her ability to balance beauty and strength so seamlessly. Not even the Tsaritsa herself embodied this union as flawlessly as the Pyro Archon. It was all too easy to forget that, at her core, she was human.
Though he would have liked to observe her in this light longer, Capitano couldn’t allow himself to merely stare.
“We have a medic in our camp specializing in accelerated healing techniques. If you let him treat you, your injury could fully heal by tomorrow. I suggest we head there; the camp isn’t far from here.”
Mavuika squinted her eyes, weighing his words. But another wave of pain rippled through her body, making the decision for her. Even if she would have preferred to be treated by one of her trusted allies, she had to get back on her feet as quickly as possible. And the Fatui's methods might indeed be her best chance. She agreed, albeit reluctantly.
A satisfied glint flickered in the Harbinger's eyes, hidden beneath his helmet. He didn’t respond verbally but helped her to her feet as gently as possible.
The moon cast a cool light on the two warriors who, despite their differences, were now pursuing a common goal and would soon realize that they had more in common than they thought.