Chapter Text
They never spoke of that night.
Never to others, never to themselves. Not even when the Traveler had agreed to assist Lyney on a personal matter involving a mentor from days past. They were cordial, their interactions quick and to the point. Though, perhaps after the case of Cesar, the two of them might even bordering on acquaintances again. Yet the clock’s hands inch forever forward.
Father would be sending Lyney and his siblings to the Fortress of Meropide any day now, and he had no doubt that the Traveler would be there too. After her chat with Lady Furina and Iudex Neuvillette, Father was absolutely certain the Traveler would become involved once again. Lyney trusted her. They had the same goal. Maybe they could team up.
Of course, upon entering the Fortress, Lyney’s plans to recruit the Traveler went off without a hitch. Maybe the blonde was finally warming up to Lyney again, or maybe he saw the logic in their partnership, however temporary it may be. It didn’t matter to Lyney so much. As long as he wasn’t at the other end of the Traveler’s icy hostility, he was content to let the pieces remain where they fell.
That was, until Wriothesley decided to mess everything up.
Lyney let his emotions get the better of him. He knew that. And yet, if he were given the opportunity to do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing. The way Wriothesley played with his emotions and fierce loyalty was a kind of manipulation that was learned, not innate. That insufferable man knew exactly what he was doing. And his stupid plan worked perfectly.
Everything had turned out alright in the end, but their good fortune did nothing to soothe Lyney’s soul. He hadn’t let either of his siblings out of his sight since that day… But still. Every night his dreams were plagued with gruesome images of what could’ve been, leaving him exhausted no matter how many hours he slept.
One night, it was too much to bear.
He’d been sleeping less anyway. Less time asleep meant less time at the mercy of his subconscious, and less time away from his siblings. But it also meant more time to think. Inmates could not leave their sleeping quarters after curfew. So, in his stubbornness, Lyney was forced to lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Night after night, hour after hour. Counting the drops of water that fell from the pipes. Over and over, Lyney reassured himself that it would all be okay. Their sentences would be over soon. They could return to the surface, return to their lives.
But not tonight.
No, tonight, Lyney was too exhausted to do anything but lay there. Too stubborn to sleep, too tired to stay awake. He thought about trying to convince the night-shift guards to let him take a midnight stroll, but he thought better of it. He didn’t want to accidentally add to his sentence.
Eventually, Lyney settled for sitting at the entrance to their sleeping quarters, knees pulled up to his chest to act as a makeshift pillow for his chin. The cold pipes made for an uncomfortable seat, but Lyney didn’t particularly mind. Perhaps the benefits brought by the change in scenery would outweigh the drawbacks of physical discomfort.
Hours passed. Or maybe just minutes. Lyney hoped it had been hours. His mind focused solely on the soft plink of water against rusted metal, over and over and over again. It didn’t wander. It didn’t dream. Lyney was okay with that.
It was easy for Lyney to tell when the sound shifted. It was still undoubtedly metallic, but heavier, somehow. More akin to footsteps rather than drip from the pipes. Lyney tried to pull his brain out of the fog. Footsteps were coming his way. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just sitting at the edge of the room wasn’t against the rules, but still his heart fluttered with anxiety. The footsteps grew heavier, closer, louder. Lyney felt his guard raise as the footsteps finally revealed their creator.
Out of all the people in the Fortress of Meropide who could’ve been wandering around after hours, the Traveler rounded the corner.
Which, admittedly, shouldn’t be too surprising. The Traveler had a knack for being in the most interesting of places at the most interesting of times. It would be in-character for him to appear in places he shouldn’t be.
Except, the Traveler had been released from the Fortress five days ago.
Why was he here now? Had he actually committed a crime this time, and was here without a mission from Iudex Neuvillette? Or, perhaps he was here by order of the Chief Justice again? In any case, the Fortress of Meropide was not somewhere anyone would want to be in the middle of the night. And yet here he was. The Traveler’s face fell when he met eyes with Lyney. He wasn’t sure why.
“Traveler?” Lyney whispered. Hastily, he stood up and smoothed his clothes, though he was nowhere near presentable. Then he took a few steps forward, the chill of the metal biting into his bare feet, and stopped just a few paces away from the blonde. “I thought you’d been released from the Fortress.”
The Traveler nodded once. “I have. Wriothesley said I could come visit whenever I wanted to.”
“And you wanted to visit in the middle of the night?”
“It’s quiet down here,” he shrugged, “Besides, I still have unfinished business.”
Lyney raised his eyebrows. “You do?”
“Lynette told me you haven’t been sleeping well.”
She…did? Lyney thought he’d been hiding his exhaustion fairly well… But Lynette would definitely see right through him. He should’ve known. “Oh,” he said, if only to acknowledge the Traveler’s statement.
Metal clanked softly under the Traveler’s boots. “You look terrible, Lyney.”
He let a small laugh escape from his chest. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” Without warning, the Traveler took one of Lyney’s hands into both of his own, but the magician barely processed the connection. Was this all a dream? It still felt wrong for the Traveler to be this cordial with Lyney, even after all that had happened in the Fortress. There’s no way this was real.
Gently, the Traveler guided Lyney back to the ground where he’d been sitting only moments ago, hands still clasped around Lyney’s. Silence stretched between them. The Traveler’s breath hitched like he was about to speak several times, but the words always died in his throat. Lyney’s mind was still running behind, he didn’t trust it to come up with a conversational topic. Besides, the Traveler wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something to say. Lyney was content to let him figure out the right order for his thoughts.
“I never thanked you,” the Traveler said finally, his golden eyes fixed on the other end of the tunnel.
“There’s no need,” scoffed Lyney, “I was just doing my part of the investigation, same as you. If anything, I should be thanking you for saving my siblings.”
The Traveler giggled softly. “You have. Several times. But, that’s not what I was talking about.”
Lyney tilted his head to one side, decidedly away from the Traveler. A wordless invitation.
“That night. Before all of this…”
Oh. Lyney had nearly forgotten. That night felt like months ago, when it had really only been a few weeks. “Just seeing you recovered was more than enough as thanks. Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“No, they wouldn’t have. Plenty of people would’ve taken that moment of weakness as an opportunity.”
Lyney attempted to interject another word of protest, but his words were quickly cut off by the Traveler. “I was cruel to you. And to Freminet, as well.” He quickly glanced into the sleeping quarters, though it was impossible to see Lyney’s siblings from where they were sitting. “You both had good intentions. You were just trying to help. I see that now, and I’m sorry. I guess I was just…”
“Resentful? Betrayed?” Lyney tried.
“Exhausted,” he said. “Conflict after conflict in nation after nation… Sometimes my exhaustion gets the better of me. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of that.”
Lyney shook his head. “No. Your mistrust was warranted. I lied to you. I hurt you.”
“I might have overreacted a little back then. You never really hurt me, Lyney. Actually, you helped me. I wanted to tell you that.”
“Traveler, I—“
“Aether.”
Lyney faltered. “Huh?”
“My name is Aether.”
“Aether…” Lyney turned the word around in his head a few times. The name felt like it originated from every country in Teyvat and yet none of them at the same time, completely unique even among the stars. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he never considered asking the Traveler if he wanted to be called anything other than the Traveler. Everyone called him that. Still, it was more a title than anything else. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“I thought you should know. You did save my life, after all.”
“Yeah…” Lyney let his words fade. What else was there to say? He hated the way he was acting in front of Aether, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the mask back on.
“Have you cried yet, Lyney?” said Aether.
The question shocked Lyney from his spiral, his eyes finally finding the courage to meet with Aether’s. Much unlike that night, Aether’s expression was warm and soft, and yet completely devoid of pity. Lyney appreciated that. “What?” he asked, still recovering from the abruptness of the question.
“Have you cried yet?” Aether repeated.
“No,” he admitted, “Why would I need to? Everything turned out fine in the end.”
“Still, the grief you experienced in the moment doesn’t fade so easily. Lynette said that you haven’t let her or Freminet out of your sight since the incident.”
Lyney looked at his hands. “What else did she tell you?”
“Enough for me to be concerned, but what she said isn’t important right now,” Aether sighed, “You can’t keep these emotions bottled up forever.”
Silence settled over the pair like a blanket. Though the scenery in front of them was just metal pipes, Lyney couldn’t help but see the view from the Defendant stand at the Opera Epiclese, his Archon laying out every one of his secrets before the entire Court of Fontaine. This felt like an interrogation. Even his nightmares sounded better than this.
But then the air shifted, Aether’s breaths quickened and the glow from his chest piece dimmed ever so slightly. “Back when my sister and I were…separated,” he began, golden eyes fixed on the ceiling, “I cried for days. I didn’t know what to do. I wandered the forests of northern Mondstadt for weeks. I don’t think a day went by where I didn’t cry over her.”
The reality slammed into Lyney like a ton of bricks. He’d heard something about the Traveler having a twin, but he’d brushed them off as mere rumors. Perhaps it was true. If it was… Their situations were far more similar than Lyney had originally thought. Horrific memories must have surfaced for Aether, just as much as they had surfaced for Lyney.
“Of course, once I fished Paimon out of that lake and she started to teach me the language, I eventually stopped crying every night.” He paused, letting the drip of water from the pipes fill the silence. “But sometimes… Sometimes it gets really bad. Sometimes I have a dream about her, and I have to take the day off just to grieve again. Sometimes I see something that reminds me of her, and I cry myself to sleep that night.
“My point is,” Aether’s eyes fell to meet Lyney’s once again, “Wriothesley played with your emotions and held your siblings over your head. It brought back bad memories, right? Just like how some situations remind me of my sister.”
Aether reached for Lyney’s hand. He let the Traveler take it. “It’s okay to cry.”
Lyney inhaled shakily. “Why are you being so nice to us?” he asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?” Aether pulled back ever so slightly, his eyebrows shooting upwards, but he didn’t let go of Lyney’s hand.
“When Freminet pulled you out of the water that day, you told me to prove that I cared about you,” his vision began to blur against his will, Lyney blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, “And now you’re here, comforting me. What changed?”
Maybe the impending tears in Lyney’s eyes were making him hallucinate, but he swore he saw Aether’s face flush at the question. The blonde’s eyes were glued to his boots.
“Freminet found me when I needed help, and you came running to make sure I was okay. Now you’re the one who needs help. Can’t I return the favor?”
It was a convincing reason, but not convincing enough for Lyney. “Why are you really here, Aether?”
All in the world was silent. One heartbeat. Two. Then, Aether straightened, inhaled, and spoke.
“Because I care about you.”
Oh.
When did it change? All of that resentment and hurt… When did it disappear? It was like Lyney was at the receiving end of one of his best magic tricks, wondering what the magician did to pull it off. At last, the dam holding back Lyney’s tears broke, and he cried openly. He tried to keep his breathing even, at the very least, but that endeavor proved fruitless as well. The walls echoed with his sobs. But, they weren’t born from sadness. Lyney couldn’t describe his emotions. Happiness? Relief? Pent up anxiety? He didn’t know. He just cried.
That’s when strong arms pressed themselves around Lyney’s shoulders, and before he knew it, the Traveler had drawn Lyney into an embrace. It was mostly on instinct, but Lyney wrapped his own arms around Aether in return, and sobbed into his shoulder.
Maybe he did need a good cry. Because when he had sufficiently drained his body of any and all tears, Lyney slumped against Aether, eyelids drooping. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Aether may have answered, but Lyney didn’t hear it. His exhaustion caught up to him quickly, and sleep took hold of his mind, dreams finally peaceful.