Work Text:
The wedding is…
Nonexistant. A fairy tale. Once upon a time, in a far away land.
But the ring still sits on Tartaglia’s glove. He doesn’t remember who slid it on his finger. He doesn’t know for whom he wears it.
Maybe it’s for the girl in Moreposek, the one he had a crush on as a child?
A drunken night in Nasha Town could also explain it. The laws are loose at the border; impromptu marriages happen all the time.
Or perhaps that man in Inazuma, the one that wanted to marry as research for his novel.
None of those theories carry the weight of reality. The girl's been gone for years, and Tartaglia tries to keep a clear head on the border. And the Inazuman…
Something akin to memory comes to the front of Tartaglia’s mind. Blue eyes. A black kimono. Red paint on porcelain lips. A steel ring, just a few shades lighter than black, slipped onto his finger. The same ring he wears every day.
It blends in with the rest of his jewelry. Whoever gave it to Tartaglia knew him well.
Or maybe it’s just another trinket from some forgotten adventure. A shiny thing to tinker with until it bores him. It’ll be gone, one of these days, sold to some swindler or gifted to a sibling or thrown into the icy rivers of Snehznaya. The emptiness he feels at its removal will surely be a fleeting thing, gone by the time the currents carry it away.
And yet the idea haunts him. The very thought that he would be separated from the one thing that ties him to some unknown paramour wrenches at his heart. Preys at his mind. Every time he removes that damned ring, he is consumed by dreams so wistful they hurt.
A pub in Nod Krai, floating among cotton-candy clouds.
A man from Inazuma holding a blade to his throat.
Sparring. Sarcasm. Kisses exchanged in the heat of battle, the taste of blood passing from one tongue to another.
Electro runs through his veins as someone teases him. As someone straddles him. As someone whispers words of love into his ear, quiet enough to hide beneath the rain drumming on the roof. Relationships between Harbingers are forbidden, after all.
When he wakes, it is with lightning on his lips.