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If you had to ask her, Xilonen would say a vacation was best spent on her armchair next to the window, cozied up in a patch of sunlight with a glass of cold pressed quenepa berry juice next to her. Perhaps the second best vacation would be on a beach, or in the forests near the Scions, sleeping the day away in beautiful locations, reading light novels and playing music on her headphones.
Trekking up the worn sandstone steps to Ochkanatlan’s peak did not even make the top ten. Yet, that’s exactly what Xilonen was spending her day doing. She had left Nepecha with the Flower Feather Clan, not wanting to bring the young girl on the treacherous journey. This was something she had to do alone.
In her backpack, she had brought a blanket for herself and some gifts for him, the sole reason for her visit. It was rather hard to miss him, what with the large glacier around him, ever-frozen, never-melting, even under the heat of the Natlan sun. The metaphor was fitting, Xilonen had thought to herself before leaving.
Xilonen, unlike the man upon the throne, was mortal, and was affected by the sun just like anyone else, perhaps moreso.
At least the shade cast by the permafrost was a welcome respite from the heat. Xilonen laid the blanket on the ground, next to the throne, and sat down.
“Hi,” she said quietly, laughing to herself. She knew that he wasn’t really dead, but he wasn’t really alive either, so it was a toss up if he would actually hear her. Still, Xilonen thought it important to vocalize her thoughts. If she wasn’t going to say anything, she should’ve stayed in the workshop.
“Nice view, huh?” Archons, this is so awkward. Even her conversations with the Nod Kraian robot had been more stimulating. Xilonen sighed. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t come here just to hang out. Even when you were alive, we didn’t have that kind of friendship. I don’t think we were even really friends.
“Thank you for saving me, by the way. I know you would’ve done it for anyone from Natlan, but I think that in the moment, there was some amount of understanding. You knew, didn’t you? Long before I did.”
Xilonen rubs her face, looking up at the sky. The sun beamed down on her, tomorrow, she’d have visible tan lines on the edges of her shorts.
“It takes one to know one, doesn’t it? How could either of us look her in the face without falling for her? The blazing sun can bring the strongest warriors to their knees, and neither of us are exceptions.
“I’m also not going to pretend you saved me for her, saving anyone from Natlan would’ve had the same impact on her heart. But I think that you recognized how much I had basked in the sun’s shining light, ever craving more.
“So thank you,” Xilonen whispered. She wiped her eyes, leaning up against the cool armrest of the stone chair beside her.
“She still misses you. Sometimes I have to help her home from the bar. She tries so hard to be strong for everyone, but when I leave, I can hear her cry. I know she has so many other people to miss, her parents, her sister, all her old friends, but I think your loss hit her hardest. You were the last bastion of her old life, her old home.
“Sometimes I wonder how it is for her, waking up five hundred years in the future. At least she adapted to the new technology.” Xilonen laughed. “Maybe I should’ve made you a Flame-strider. Cryo-strider? Snow-strider? The name is a work in progress.”
He doesn’t answer her. Xilonen knows that had he been able to talk, he probably wouldn’t have had a preference. He was very easy-going when it came to “mundane” matters like that, his cool demeanor a stark contrast to her playful and adventurous attitude.
“So,” Xilonen pauses, gathering her courage. How intimidating, speaking to a dead man. “I want to ask for your blessing.”
No reply, as expected. The sunlight reflected off the ice dances around her, shades of pale blue. She looks up at the man on the throne. If she squinted, and really focused, she could probably make out his face. But Xilonen doesn’t bother. That is not how he wished to be remembered, as a decaying remnant of a long-dead kingdom.
He was a hero, undeserving of the Fatui’s treacherous reputation. Xilonen had seen her paintings. It would be a lie to say that he was anything short of handsome. Long, dark, silky hair coupled with his strong jaw gave him an almost androgynous appearance. In her paintings, he would often be seen outside of battle, looking over his troops or placed in an empty wilderness.
It made sense, her way of coping with his death. He died outside of battle, but she didn’t want to remember him that way.
But Xilonen would always think of him as the captain upon the throne.
“She loved you a lot,” Xilonen whispered. “She doesn’t show it, but I think she was saddened that you two never had a chance to really reconnect.
“Can I be honest? I don’t think it would’ve worked out. Ignoring the obvious issue of you needed her gnosis as much as you wanted her heart, you both represent something to the other.
“Five hundred years is a long time, especially when you met in war. If you two had a chance, a real chance, you would’ve fallen into the well worn footsteps of two warriors. I think you knew that too. I think you wanted to spare her from that fate.
“But I am not you. I may be a hero of Natlan, but I’m a blacksmith, not a warrior. I just-”
Xilonen stops to watch a qucuasaur fly across the sky, blotting out the light for a few moments.
“-I just want to give her the future she deserves. I want to show her that she doesn’t have to live the rest of her life chasing after ghosts. She spent so long planning for the future of Natlan, I want her to finally get to live in it.
“So, Capitano, may I finish what you started? May I love her the way you wished you could? I-”
Xilonen looks up. She’s crying. When did I start crying? She blinks furiously, trying to clear her eyes.
“I’ll love Mavuika enough for the both of us,” She says quietly. “She’ll never spend another day questioning her place in the world.”
She stands, placing a hand on the shoulder of the man beside her. In silence, the two of them watch the sky. He cannot give her an answer in any way that a living person should, but Xilonen knows. They both love Mavuika and they both want her to have what she deserves.