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Your quiet strength was one of Il Capitano’s favourite traits about you.
You had alluded to your past before working at Zapolyarny Palace only on occasion, though you’d divulged more as the two of you had grown closer. You’d had to drop out of the Akademiya to tend to your ailing mother back home; and once she had inevitably passed, you’d been forced to work out of necessity, with no job too unglamorous to take up. Any plans to walk up the proverbial career path had been gone in an instant, so unkind was life.
Capitano knew this all too well, and listened to your tale with great care and empathy, holding you to his chest in his quarters as you seemed to relish in the perpetual coolness of his withered frame. Though he rarely stripped himself down in your presence, you had no issue snuggling up into the many layers of fabric that adorned him, playing idly with a button or clasp of his tunic like a comfort. He assumed, at the time, that the distant and severed way you recounted your trials meant that you did not want sympathy; that you had shouldered the burdens and tolerated them well enough.
That did not stop Capitano from smoothing his palm down the crown of your head to the small of your back as you spoke. It just meant that he attributed your detached recollections as another indicator of your resolve.
It was that same resolve that Capitano assumed you possessed each time he was called away for Fatui work - missions only a Harbinger (and a high-ranking Harbinger such as himself) could attend to. Perhaps he believed that, because you’d been alone for so long - both in and outside the palace walls - you were used to the loneliness his absence brought about. Yet each time he kissed the furrow of your brow before he took his leave, sometimes for weeks at a time, Capitano swore he could sense the taut jitter of your body; could sense the shift in the atmosphere between you.
It was difficult for a man such as himself - who had stripped himself of softer emotions over the last five centuries, other than sheer determination and the anger that fueled it - to properly notice such subtle changes in your demeanor, never mind interpret them appropriately. Perhaps you were concerned about him, even if you knew his rank - First of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers - much as any other. Perhaps your mind was occupied with work or the fatigue that resulted from its long nights…
Still, Capitano never opted to push you. He was never in the mood for anyone to pity him or press for him to speak on his deeper emotions, and did not want to subject you to the same treatment. And so he left for his missions (with you on his mind all the while), and basked in your glistening smile and your arms flung around him upon his return.
Today, that routine went askew.
It started out like any other mission; Capitano prepared his things in his chambers, with you watching his every move from your place stretched out on his bed. He spoke occasionally - small talk about your plans for the week outside of work, making sure that you knew to use his remittance forms to be reimbursed if you wished to go out to dine or watch a show - and all appeared well when Capitano kissed you goodbye with a bashful peck on the lips.
It was only a few steps through the corridor that he realized he’d forgotten the oil and cloth he used to clean his sword each night - a necessary diligence that was almost relaxing in lieu of the sleep that eluded him. Marching back and not bothering to knock on his own door, Capitano strode in unbothered…until he took note of your face buried into his pillow, your arms clinging to one of his shirts, the way your shoulders shook and heaved with each of your breaths -
You sprung up, a look of horror and humiliation on your tear-stained cheeks. Hastily you wiped them with your palm, clearing your throat, smoothing your clothes, looking everywhere but at Capitano. “Th-Thrain,” you mumbled at last. “I…”
“You’re upset,” he said lamely, hurrying to your side, oil and cloth quickly forgotten alongside his promise not to pester you with questions about your emotions. “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”
“Forgive me if I don't exactly believe you.”
“It’s okay,” you said, ignoring his comment. “I’m okay. I just…” When Capitano did not push further, merely waiting for you to finish, you sighed and added - barely above a whisper, “...I worry about you when you’re gone. And I-I miss you.” The last phrase spilled out all at once, like one big word, and it took Capitano a moment to parse through each.
You worry about him.
You miss him.
“______,” he murmured into your hair, pulling you flush against him. “You know that I do everything in my power to return to your side unscathed.”
“I know.”
“And you know that even the fraction of my strength that remains from all those years ago easily matches that of the gods themselves.”
“I know that, too.”
“Then you needn’t worry about me,” Capitano concluded, hoping that would be the end of it. But you shrugged and sniffled and shook your head, frowning.
“It’s not just that…it’s that I care about you, and that means I’m always going to worry.” You managed a small smile at that, turning up to gaze at him. “Do you not worry about me when you’re gone?”
Capitano was fleetingly grateful you could not see what remained of his face under his helmet, nor the blush that he felt burning his cheeks. Of course, he worried about you. Of course, he would trust few others to tend to your protection the way he could. Of course -
Of course you’d feel the same.
You buried your face back into his overcoat and hummed. “I wish I could come with you, sometimes,” you said.
“I know. But the safest place for you presently is here in the palace.”
“I know,” you echoed, and Capitano heard the hint of amusement in your words. “Just…please come back soon, alright?”
And with the greatest strength of will he could muster, Capitano pulled away, placed your palm to his heart, and locked his eyes on yours. “I will,” he promised, a fierce oath to not just return in one piece, but to listen more closely to that quiet resolve of yours he loved so dearly.