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You don't even know how you ended up in this scenario. Supposedly, you were tough, one of the Knights of Favonious. Part of Varka's crew. You were supposed to be a beacon of light for Mondstadt, a hero.
And yet, here you are, bleeding out under the cover of a forest a quarter of a mile away from your campground. You stare up at the rays of sun poking through the trees. All you were asked to do was clear out a Hillichurl camp. Simple, really. Just wipe them out and return. Done in less than an hour. How long have you been laying on the grass, again? You should have expected this. Despite how magnificent your lover, Varka, claimed you were, deep down you always knew you'd never live up to the rest of the guard. Right now, it's more evident than ever. You're not good enough. You're too weak to even do a simple task without getting catastrophically injured.
Will anyone even notice how long you've been gone? You've been away longer than you should've.
As the adrenaline wears off, you notice a sharp, raw pain in your legs and abdomen growing. You vaguely remember getting slashed by the axe of a mitachurl, tumbling to the ground and surely breaking something in your legs. The pain is almost unbearable at this point, now that your mind is focused on it. You consider calling out for help. Maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to catch the attention of one of your fellow knights. But, maybe, they'll hear how weak you are, and just leave you for dead. You're not worth the ever-dwindling supplies, anyway.
You close your eyes and listen to the sound of your colleagues steps around you. Clearly, Varka's sent out a search team just for you. You're not really worth those resources. Your depressive spiral is broken by the sound of heavy boots against the dirt near you. You hear Varka, surprisingly worried, call out your name. Despite your self-deprecation, you still want to be saved. You try your best to make a noise, but only a faint, strangled sound comes out.
Still, the next time you open your eyes, you see Varka sprinting toward you.
"Oh, love, what happened? How did this..." Varka trailed off. He's not usually like this. His usually humorous and easygoing demeanor has faded, replaced with all worry.
You try to tell him that you're okay, but you're still unable to talk. You let out another mangled groan. Varka shakes his head and pulls you close to him., something he probably shouldn't be doing due to the injuries. However, you don't care. All you can care about now is the feeling of Varka's warmth against your skin. It's a comforting touch, almost making you forget about your pain.
"We should probably get you some medical supplies, huh? Maybe a drink to soothe the pain," Varka jokes, though there's a lot less humor in it than usual. You nod and let yourself be lifted into his arms. Varka is surpisingly gentle as he swiftly makes his way back to the camp. Every time you groan in pain throughout the journey, Varka whispers comforting words in your ears, telling you that it'll all be okay, and you're almost there, and how you just need to hang on for a little bit longer. You try to believe him, but the pain gets worse with every step he takes. You can feel your consciousness slipping, the world around you getting blurry. Despite it being summer, and despite you being covered in sweat, you're freezing. When did it get so cold? You wonder how much blood you've lost. You imagine your blood trailing down your lover's arms, dripping onto the soft grass beneath you both.
"Make sure you keep those eyes open, okay?" Varka says. You hadn't even noticed they'd closed. You can barely open your eyes. Can barely see Varka's messy blond hair, how it always falls so perfectly on his face. You're barely able to make out his icy blue eyes, only now noticing how stunning they are. When you're sure you're about to die, you start to notice how beautiful the world around you is. You just wish you could talk, to tell Varka you love him one last time, and how sorry you are for being this weak.
You make another attempt to speak, but no words come out again. Varka gently shushes you, wanting you to conserve your strength to try and stay alive.
You hear the sounds of soldiers running up to you. They seem to be asking you questions, but their words feel fuzzy. At the sight of you barely responding, you're rushed to the medical tent and gently placed on a cot.
You've always hated doctors. The thought of entrusting someone with your life freaked you out more than anything. You vaguely remember telling Varka about this fear after getting a minor injury during a mission. Back then, he would patch up your small injuries himself. He would tell you grand stories of his adventures before you joined him whilst he disinfected a cut. Today's wounds, however, are so extreme that Varka can only stand beside you as the trained professionals do their work. Varka's hand makes its way to yours. You grip it tightly, or at least, you think it's tightly. It's probably the lightest grip you've ever had on Varka's hand due to your injuries.
People are talking around you. You wish you could make out their words. You wonder how bad it is, but can't bring yourself to look at the damage.
You almost scream as you feel rubbing alcohol being pressed into the wound on your abdomen. Your grip on Varka becomes impossibly tight. As the medics work, your nails dig into Varka's hand so hard they almost draw blood. Varka reaches down and moves a strand of hair out of your face, transitioning into him gently playing with the strands in an attempt to soothe you. You see his mouth moving and that comforting smile on his face. You think he tells you that it's going to be okay. It's hard to believe him.
Varka kneels beside your laying form, kissing your forehead and gently rubbing your arm. It's a nice distraction from the agony that is occurring. You move your head to look at Varka. His face is oddly comforting. It's nice to see someone familiar during this time.
Your eyes naturally close again, and you hear Varka start to speak to you in a panicked voice that is masked by an attempt at humor. You don't make out what he says to you as the consciousness slips from your body.
You don't know how long it is before you wake up. As you open your eyes, you're in a surprising lack of pain. You glance to your right and see Varka asleep on a chair beside your cot. You assume he's barely left that spot, just waiting for you to arise again. It sounds like something he'd do.
"Having a nice nap?" You barely cough out. The sound of your voice seems to wake him up immediately. He's at your side in an instant, hands already finding yours.
"You doing alright?" Varka asks, making sure to gauge your facial expression before you respond. When you nod, that stupid grin of his appears on his face. He announces that he's going to get you your favorite drink and that after, he will "never leave your side ever again." You scoff at the absurdity of it. You know he's busy and that there's no way he can realistically tend to all his duties with you attached to his hip. The idea of that is still nice, though.
When Varka returns, he's holding a large pitcher and a stack of paperwork. He pours you a glass and begins chipping away at the heap. While you're laying in bed, your mind drifts back to what happened. You return to wondering about your place within the Knights of Favonious and if you really deserved it. There had to be someone better, you figured. You know deep down that somewhere, there's a person who wouldn't even get a scratch from what you had been asked to do.
You don't plan to tell Varka your feelings of inferiority, but somehow, he seems to know anyway. He sets the paper he was working on down and turns to you.
"What's on your mind?" Varka asks. You attempt to shake your head and tell him it's nothing, but he sees through that instantly. After a beat of silence, you faintly reply with "Are you sure I belong here? I'm not really that strong..."
Varka shuts you up with the shake of his head. "No...No. Sweetheart, you belong here more than anyone. Getting injured is part of the job, just like that paperwork. You're one of the bravest people I know, and I can't believe how far you've come."
You glance down, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You barely cried before you met him, but nowadays Varka always seems to say just the thing to let you get your feelings out. Varka reaches forward and wipes a tear before it falls. He moves even closer, now practically in your cot. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, mindful of not moving your injuries too much. He embrace is strong and soothing.
You let Varka whisper both praise and sweet nothings into your ears as you drift back into a comfortable sleep.