Chapter Text
"Time is Money, and Money is Power. If I can make time stand still, just for myself, can I finally reach a state of godhood? Will I finally be able to stand for myself?"
This thought would ring within her head every hour of the day. Sunken eyes look over the candle lights, over the burning flame, and stare into the emptiness of the frozen tundra. Her feet were frozen in place as she gently holds the still burning candle, hoping to guide the soldiers' way home.
There was one soldier she was waiting for, hoping that he would come marching in with the rest of the many men and woman entering the small village.
Time seemed to pass so slowly, agonizingly so. If she would make the world stop, make time irrelevant, she could spend the rest of eternity with her lover.
The sound of crunching footsteps draws her out of her mind and focus her attention. Standing before her was an unfamiliar man dressed in a thick snow coat. Her lips crease downwards at not seeing the man she was hoping for.
"Are you, (Y/n) Garin?" the man asks, his eyes closed in a insincere smile, thin glasses glaring to cover them.
"Yes. And who are you?"
The man's smile never changes, thin and polite, one that is nothing more than a mask.
"You may refer to me as 'Pantalone,'" he says, "And I am here to bring you some... unfortunate news."
She could already connect in her mind what he was going to say. She just hoped he wouldn't. She hoped she could freeze time and make it so he never says the words she most dreaded, words she has been fearing to hear since he left her all alone.
"Your husband, Lubov Garin... died in battle in the nation of Liyue."
Why couldn't time just stand still? Why couldn't she turn the clock's hands backwards and reverse all the time in the world? How is this fair? They've only been married for a few years, and haven't even gotten to spend much of that time with each other.
"May I come in?" Pantalone says with slow tone, smile still pressing against his thin lips.
"Ah... Y-Yes..."
She opens the door wider, allowing the stranger to come inside her home.
Pantalone looks around the very small house. There were only a few rooms, most connected to one another. The seating room, kitchen, and dining area were all together while a single door and two walls separate a section, most likely the bedroom.
"You have a very cosy home, Miss Garin."
"It's Missus Garin," she whispers to herself.
"What was that?"
"Ah, nothing. Please, take a seat by the hearth."
Pantalone nods before moving inside, closing the door behind him. The house had a low roof compared to what he was used to living in, but that shouldn't be unexpected. He quickly sits himself down onto a plush armchair, feeling the matted fabric through his gloves.
"M-May I ask you something, Mister Pantalone?"
"Hmm?"
"How did you know my husband?"
"Ahh, right," he says, turning towards her and crossing a leg over the other. "I was his boss, I am one of Her Majesty's loyal followers, a Harbinger, after all."
The woman freezes in place, holding the cups of hot water in shaking hands.
"A harbinger? My lord, then why tell a simple woman yourself of someone's death? Could you have not asked someone else to do it?"
Pantalone nods his head, tossing it to the side and smiles with his mask.
"Yes, I could have done that, but you see, Lubov worked right under me, a bodyguard you could say. We grew quite close."
"I-I see," she says slowly walking over to him and offering him a cup of steaming drink.
"Thank you, my dear. Lubov spoke very highly of you, did you know? There wasn't a day where he wouldn't say something about you, whether it be him missing your or singing your praises."
"That... sounds like my husband... yes..."
"You know that he knew the risks of this occupation, correct?"
"We both discussed it for several days before deciding on a decision, yes."
"Good, because your husband asked me something, a very odd request, but one I couldn't deny a dear friend."
The woman's head tilts to the side, hair dripping over her shoulder like water through its fall.
"He asked me, if he were to ever die, that I take care of you for him."
"What?!" she whispers.
"Lubov spoke about both of your financial situations," he says motioning around the small cabin. "You spoke about how it was your only option to join the Fatui?"
The woman remained silent. Meanwhile, Pantalone smiles at her with pale lips, ones threatening to curve up into a true smile. He can't let his excitement show, not now, not when he's so close.
"It was the only way would have been able to survive... We have no money..."
"I know, sweetheart," he coos, "So that is why he asked if I could take care of you. He loved you more than anything and wanted you to live how you deserved. You did choose him over Nikoli, after all."
The woman blushes at stares at the man.
"H-He told you about that?!" she asks with visible panic.
"Yes. It's hard to find a woman nowadays that choses a man for love over the prospect of a fortune."
"Lubov and I have been friends since we were children... of course I would choose him," she mumbles, more to herself than to the man before her.
"I see... But his words still stand. He wanted you to live on and be happy, happy in a way he could never provide. So, what I'm asking is, will you allow me to adopt you into my home?"
The woman bites her lip, tears filling her eyes. The weight of the situation finally settling in the crooks of her mind.
Her husband, the man she has loved for years on end, was dead. He would always talk about wanting to be better in taking care of her, wishing for even a bit of money to spoil her with, a woman he deemed worthy of worship. Sometimes he would question why she chose him and not a man with wealth; a noble.
It was because she loved him and only him
So, it really isn't out of the question that Lubov would ask something like this to a man known to be wealthy beyond the gods themselves, especially to a man he trusts enough to sacrifice his life for.
"I will go with you, if that's what my husband wanted. But, please, give me a few day to mourn... I can't just-" she cut herself off as she begins to sob, tears dribbling down her face like drool.
Pantalone nods his head gently.
"Of course. The loss of a loved one is one of the most tragic events in someone's life. Thank you for your time, I will receive you in a week."
(Y/n) could barely let out a wobbly 'thank you' before Pantalone left.
Pressing his back against the door, he smiles, eyes opening to reveal devilish eyes. His heart is pounding with a malicious joy. Soon enough, soon enough.