Crimson Tides (Tartaglia x Reader)

Chapter Three

The sun had barely risen, casting a muted light over the camp as you stepped out of your tent. The rain had stopped, leaving the air crisp and damp, with the smell of wet earth lingering. Tartaglia was already waiting, leaning casually against a tree at the edge of the camp, his eyes sharp and alert despite the early hour.

Ready for your first lesson?" he asked, pushing off from the tree and walking towards you. There was that familiar grin again, the one that made your heart skip a beat despite the unease that always followed it.

You nodded, trying to push away the nervousness in your gut. You had agreed to this, after all. If you were going to understand your powers, if you were going to control them, you needed help. And who better than Tartaglia—a warrior renowned for his strength and skill? Still, the thought of training with him, of showing him just how little control you had, made your hands tremble slightly. He begins walking towards the empty field right in front of the camp.

"Let's see what you can do." He crosses his arms, staring at you. You hesitated.

"And what if I can't control it?"

Tartaglia's expression softened slightly. "That's why we're here, right? Don't worry—I won't let anything happen to you." He stepped back, giving you some space. "Just focus on your power. Don't try to force it. Let it come naturally."

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment to center yourself. When you opened them, you felt the familiar warmth of your power stirring within you, like a fire smoldering just beneath the surface. Slowly, you raised your hand, willing the flames to come forth.

At first, nothing happened. The fire remained dormant, as if resisting your call. But then, with a sudden surge, a small flame sparked to life in your palm. It flickered unsteadily, but it was there. You felt a brief moment of triumph before the flame began to grow, expanding beyond your control.

"Tag-" you started, panic rising as the flames began to lick at your fingers, threatening to consume your hand. The fire surrounds you, waiting for you to become ash. But before you could say more, Tartaglia was there, his hand closing over yours. The heat of the fire was intense, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he guided your hand downwards, towards the ground.

"Focus," he said, his voice calm and steady. "You control the fire,"

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on his words, on the feeling of his hand over yours. Slowly, the flames began to subside, shrinking back until they were nothing more than a faint glow in your palm. You exhaled a shaky breath, your heart still pounding in your chest.

"Your power is like a river. You need to build banks to guide it, to keep it from overflowing. Right now, it's wild, untamed. You need to find a way to direct it, to focus it." You frowned, trying to make sense of his analogy. Hydro seemed to be a lot easier to control.

"And how do I do that?"

"By understanding it," he replied. "Fear is natural, but it's also a chain. It binds you, keeps you from realizing your true potential. The Abyss is part of you—rejecting it means rejecting a piece of yourself. But if you accept it, learn to harness it, you could become stronger than you've ever imagined" Tartaglia was oddly reassuring.

"Why do you want to help me?" It's been a burning question for you since he asked you to join his team.

A rare softness touched Tartaglia's features, his hand finding its way to your shoulder. The gesture was simple, but the warmth of his touch was comforting, grounding you in the here and now.

"Maybe because I see a bit of myself in you. Or maybe... I just want to see what you're capable of." As Tartaglia's words hung in the air, you found yourself searching his eyes, trying to decipher the true meaning behind them. There was an intensity there, but also a depth that you hadn't expected. He was more than just a warrior—there was something else driving him, something that resonated with your own struggles.