Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rosaria hadn’t realized how beautiful Dragonspine was until she found herself spending her exile there.

Although, it wasn’t exile in the most exact definition of the word. After all, she’d chosen to come here. She’d chosen to leave. But the silence from Mondstadt in the weeks since she’d quit had been just as frosty as the layers of ice by which she was now surrounded.

After her declaration that night had shattered the comfortable routine of the convent, Sister Victoria had been speechless and Sister Barbara distressed. Rosaria packed her few belongings in calm silence. She stayed in a hotel after that, sleeping for hours with the curtains drawn and leaving only to purchase meals, which she ate ravenously in the dark of her unfamiliar room. It was on the fourth day of this numb, hedonistic frenzy that she received a letter.

When she found the envelope on the carpet in front of the door to her room, her first thought was that it was some kind of official statement from the Church. Her second thought was that it was from Kaeya—but if he’d wanted to speak to her, he would have shown up in-person. She bent to retrieve it, a plate of Sweet Madame cooling in her other hand. The paper was soft and high-quality, and she didn’t recognize the seal. She tore it open in the shadows of her room. Written in a fancy script was the following:

Albedo. Rosaria knew of him. He was new in town, but there were rumors that Varka was considering appointing him as the Knights of Favonius’s Chief Alchemist. They had never spoken, but she did remember a particularly irritating job, safeguarding a shipment of toxic chemicals from bandits eager to use them for explosives. She was oddly pleased that Albedo knew to give her credit—even if it meant Kaeya had been trading away a few of her secrets.

Rosaria had a complex history with mountains, but with her Mora dwindling, she decided she had nothing to lose. So, she wrote him back.

It was two weeks later now, and she regretted nothing.

Dragonspine was brutal and it was lovely. She’d never thought the two could coexist, but she found them here, hand-in-hand in the snowbanks and cliffsides. Everyone had heard the tales of travelers determined to conquer it, only for their bodies to be found in the spring thaw, frozen by the side of the main path. The mountain claimed lives with a hunger found nowhere else in Mondstadt. Rosaria had been born in the peaks of the Stormbearer Mountains, but Dragonspine’s cliffs were far higher. Still, she’d never thought much of it, not until she arrived at Albedo’s research station and witnessed the first snowfall of the season.

Rosaria hadn’t cried since she was a little girl, and she didn’t then. But for all Dragonspine’s harsh planes of rock and the jagged caves that riddled its heart, the snow that drifted from the sky was soft. It landed on the ground as gently as a caress.

That morning, she changed. Kneeling on the frost-dusted ground, bordered by ancient ruins and glaciers, something inside Rosaria melted.

She’d stayed here ever since, entirely alone. She spent her days walking the circuits of the mountain paths, observing the stillness of the wintry landscape. The sight of her habit twisted her heart in ways she couldn’t articulate, even to herself. Among Albedo’s supplies, she found a simple outfit and a thick woolen cloak, and she wore it despite having no need to hide from the cold. She kept her crown and claw rings hidden in a drawer. At night, she checked to make sure none of the mysterious alchemical equipment had broken, and then she slept on the floor without lighting a fire. The cold may not have hurt her, but she felt it anyway, and she wanted to feel all of it. It was silent here. Not lonely, though. Rosaria wasn’t sure she had the capacity to feel that way.

She never turned her face towards Mondstadt. Somewhere, far from her, the city froze and she let it.

If the rest of her life resembled this, she would know peace. She may have even gotten that chance, had Kaeya not shown up two weeks later.

He was in the cave when she woke up. The sound of rustling paper was what alerted her that there was someone there, and before she even opened her eyes her hand had found her switchblade and brandished it towards the intruder. Instead of the hilichurl or Treasure Hoarder she was expecting, she saw him, sitting cross-legged on the floor and flipping through one of Albedo’s sketchbooks. He didn’t seem shocked or concerned to be at the mercy of her knife; he merely raised his eyebrows and waved a ‘good morning’.

“Kaeya,” she snapped. Her voice was rough from disuse. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting. Is that something you’ll allow, Miss Deserter?”

Rosaria didn’t answer him right away. After a moment, she flicked her switchblade closed and slid it back into its hidden pocket. She sat up, raising a knee to press her forehead against as she pulled her fingers through her wine-bright hair. “Not if you’re going to call me that.”

“Sorry.” He closed the notebook and placed it back on the shelf. "That's an interesting new outfit, by the way." Rosaria watched his eyes dart from the dusty contraptions on the desk to the pinned-up research notes before finally resting on her. “It’s just—no one’s heard from you. It wasn’t until I spoke to Albedo’s assistant yesterday that I even knew where you were.”

She hadn’t considered he might not know. She had been so sure that he simply didn’t want to speak to her. “You looked for me?”

“Of course I did, Rosaria.”

“You could’ve written first.”

He only shrugged. “Do they deliver mail up here?”

“I don’t mean here. Back when I was staying in Mondstadt.”

“I told you, I didn’t know where you were.”

“The whole Church knew. You could’ve asked someone. For Barbatos’s sake, even Albedo knew!”

“No one told me you quit!”

They were on their feet now, facing each other. Rosaria wasn’t sure when that had happened. She was only now remembering how long it had been since she’d been this near to another person; even before she left, most of her skin contact came from fighting strangers. They were so close, she could almost feel the chill of Kaeya’s body.

“I didn’t know you quit,” he repeated, more controlled this time. “By the time I found out about it, you were gone, and I’ve been searching for answers ever since.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kaeya,” she said. “Half of Mondstadt knew within the hour, and following rumors is your job.”

“I was busy dealing with the aftermath of the Knights’ entrance exam. I didn’t have time to go anywhere except Headquarters. And yes, I heard things over the next few days, but Rosaria—” he reached for her shoulder, then drew back without touching her. “I don’t listen to the rumors about you.”

Rosaria’s breath caught; she took a step back. Something in his voice had been unlike any other emotion he’d ever directed towards her. The majority of their relationship had been one of emotional trade and transaction; rarely did it trespass into areas well-occupied by other people’s friendships. She remembered those moments vaguely; when they were seventeen and refused to speak with each other for a month over something petty, when they were nineteen and he got a girl who’d tormented her thrown out of the Adventurer’s Guild. Right now, he was furious with her. And yet she was beginning to feel that she’d sorely underestimated the extent of their connection.

Kaeya seemed to realize he’d said more than he wanted to. He turned away and reached into the pack at his hip. From it, he withdrew a bottle of shining red liquid. “I brought wine.”

“Oh, thank Barbatos.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re here.” He began searching for cups.

Rosaria reached under Albedo’s desk and pulled out the set of glass beakers she’d discovered on the second day. Kaeya took one from her and began to fill it with wine. “We can talk about it later.”

“No. I’ll listen to anything you say, but Rosaria, I need you to tell me anything.”

“It’s complicated. I’d rather discuss how you managed to get Varka to give you vacation time.”

“Oh, he didn’t. I quit too.”

“What?” The beaker shattered in Rosaria’s hand. She stared, uncomprehending, at the shower of shards now spread in front of her feet.

Kaeya made no move to help her; he knew better. “I thought that was implied?”

“It very much wasn’t!” Rosaria snapped as she bent and swept the glass into another one of the beakers. It had cut her when it broke; a bead of blood traced her palm before dropping serenely onto the crystalline pile, staining it red. “What the hell is wrong with you, Kaeya?”

His smirk, the one she knew so well, had returned. She felt a little dizzy. “What, you’re the only one allowed to make drastic, life-changing decisions?”

Instead of answering, Rosaria scowled. She pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and started towards the cave’s entrance. “Where are you going?” Kaeya asked.

“I’m taking a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. I need to clear my head.”

“Rosaria,” he said, gentle as falling snow. She wished, fervently, that he had just let her stay in exile alone. “You know we need to talk about this.”

He reached for her shoulder, and she shrugged him off. “You can stay the night, but I want you to be gone tomorrow.”

Whatever he said next, she didn’t hear it over the howling gale she stepped into. Everything made sense out here, amidst the mountain’s unforgiving ice and sheer drops to certain death. Sometimes, on her walks, the wind whispered that this was where she was meant to be all along.

Kaeya stayed out of her way until that night, but she should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to make him leave.

She lay face-up, listening to him settle down on the other side of the cave. Despite his infuriating insistence on staying, he hadn’t said a word to her since earlier. At least he was respecting her boundaries.

It was a bad idea. She should wait until morning to say anything. Better yet, she should keep her mouth shut until he got frustrated and left her there. But perhaps her will had grown soft without exercise. “I don’t want you here, Kaeya.”

Rosaria didn’t look at him, but she heard him shift over to face her. Listening. She pressed forward. “Mondstadt needs you. You said yourself that there’s a shortage of good Knights. You can’t just… leave them stranded like this.”

His laugh was like sunshine, warmly discordant in the frostbitten darkness. “Oh, but you can?”

“I’m a nun, not a Knight. What I did wasn’t sanctioned or wanted,” Rosaria said. “If Varka or Sister Victoria ever found out, I’d be placed under lockdown, if not thrown out of the convent entirely.”

“Don’t say you quit because of the risk. No one in their right mind would ever believe that.”

“Well, what do you want me to say? My reasons can’t be explained in neat summaries.”

“Try,” he snapped. “Or do you just not care about Mondstadt anymore?”

This idea made her angry enough to flip over and face him. His eye was flinty, his mouth set in a determined line. Rosaria hissed, “I have never stopped. But Mondstadt has enough people taking care of it.” She didn’t voice the rest, which was: Who is there to take care of me, if I’ve pledged my body to another cause?

“It’s different for us, though,” Kaeya insisted. “I thought you understood that. Jean, Amber, even Diluc—they were born and raised here. They’re committed to it beyond any other ideology, but they still don’t understand Mondstadt like you and I do.”

How long had it been since she’d first seen the buildings towering into the sky? The windmill, the Church, the taverns and apartments? It was the people that she really paid attention to, even back then. Something deep inside Rosaria solidified when she walked the streets. There was melody winding its way through Mondstadt, below the tone-deaf tunes of bards and the liveliness of its citizens. It was free and lovely and it was so, so fragile. She’d never had the words to express the compulsion she’d felt in that moment.

She kept count; she knew rationally that it had been five years since she’d first heard it. But it felt like much, much longer—lifetimes ago. Weariness had always dragged her down into its depths. The little girl she’d been still lived in the back of her head; sometimes, she whispered to her.

Rosaria reached into the darkness. “I’m so tired, Kaeya.”

Wordlessly, Kaeya stretched his hand towards her, but they were too far apart to connect. Their fingertips brushed nothing except empty air. “Then sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

When she woke up, he wasn’t lying next to her.

She blinked the morning into existence, observing the curves of empty space where his body had been. They’d been so far apart. It seemed strange now, in the light of day.

Then she sat up, scanning the whole cave. Her heart dropped, though she couldn’t say whether it was from triumph or disappointment—had he really left without telling her? She supposed it would be fair payback.

A noise from outside drew her attention, and slowly she stretched and stood. She stepped out into the snow, tilting her head to hear better. She followed the sound along the side of the mountain, all the way to a small clearing.

Kaeya fought with his back to her, seeming not to notice her presence. Several pale-blue slimes bounced around his feet, occasionally rushing forward to bump into his legs. Cryo slimes could do little damage against Cryo wielders like them, but Kaeya couldn’t use his Vision to fight back. Rosaria smiled, watching him try to slash at them.

With one final flourish, Kaeya cut through the last slime. It evaporated in a puff of mist. He glanced over his shoulder, scowling when he saw her. “Thanks for the help.”

“You seemed to have it covered.” Rosaria strode forward and took his sword from him, slashing the air experimentally. The blade glimmered silver-blue in the weak sunlight. It felt clunky and slow in her hands; this was why she’d always preferred polearms. She handed it back to him.

“Are you sure you’re not just afraid to reveal how rusty you’ve gotten?” Kaeya said. His tone was light, teasing. So, neither of them was going to address last night’s awkwardness. Fine by Rosaria. “How long has it been since you’ve had a proper fight? Slimes don’t count.”

Rosaria flexed her fingers, imagining the solid weight of her weapon against them. “A little over two weeks.”

“Hm,” he said. His sword disappeared from his hand; he’d sheathed it into an immaterial plane. He curled his fists. “Seems to me like you’re slipping.”

“You remember the last time we sparred, I’m sure.”

He winced. “Last spring. How could I forget? I think I still have that scar. But you didn’t win that time—you haven’t since we were eighteen.”

When Kaeya’s knight training had gotten more rigorous, and Rosaria’s first-hand experience just couldn’t keep up anymore. She remembered sitting on a rooftop under the lazy midsummer sun, watching the glints of swords and claymores as the young knights practiced their new techniques on each other. It hadn’t fazed her. She was a formidable fighter despite her unrefined techniques, and sparring with Kaeya was a challenge she rarely got. “Well, perhaps I should try again.”

Kaeya grinned. She could see frost spreading across his knuckles, ready to send a blast of ice crystals towards her. Before he could, though, she leaned in closer and said, “There’s more slimes where those came from. Surely you won’t mind helping me clear them out?”

As his expression shifted to annoyance, it was Rosaria’s turn to smirk. No wonder Kaeya was such a headache sometimes; causing infuriation was delightful.

It only took an hour to find the nest, and then they started fighting. They had always worked well together, whether it was side-by-side or against each other. Despite the tension that had risen between them yesterday, this battle seemed no different. Rosaria hated even to think it, but she had missed this synchrony, the rapid, steady pace with which they dispatched enemy after enemy. Even if these enemies were only slimes.

She’d never gone so long without fighting. Perhaps, like Kaeya, she’d underestimated the meaning it held to her.

Though her Vision’s only use in this battle was passive protection against the cold, it still hummed against her skin. Her memories surfaced most often when she was surrounded by noise, by commotion, by violence. On Dragonspine, Rosaria had allowed herself to choose silence and inaction. It had stilled her, but she hadn’t forgotten—she was just seeing how long she could evade. There were some things she could never forget.

Rosaria remembered most events in clinical detail, but she’d never been able to recall exactly how old she was when she was first taken into the darkness and the cold.

She didn’t think of the night her village had burned as often as she thought of the years following it. When she did, it was only in glimpses: light harsher than that of the candles she was accustomed to glowing against the starless night, screams and cries from every direction, panic building as she couldn’t find her parents. She remembered being caught by a strong pair of arms, held tightly as an unfamiliar deep voice murmured “It’s done, little one. But you can come with us, if you like.”

Though she wasn’t born among them, it didn’t seem unnatural that she lived with thieves and murderers. Her life before then was fleeting and indistinct; it was as though that night of firelight and screaming had carved her heart into a different shape.

How does it feel to have your life taken away? To become nothing more than a weapon, wielded by immoral hands? For food and warmth and approval to be things you must fight for to receive? Rosaria couldn’t tell you. The cold numbed her, and so she felt next to nothing as her childhood slipped by in shades of red.

It was surprising to find, just before the start of her fifteenth year, that she really was willing to do anything to survive.

Loyalty was a meaningless concept to young Rosaria. Betrayal, however, was something she knew well. She’d watched her family give traitors the harshest punishment, even those they had known for years. Her age would grant her no mercy. She knew what would happen if she ran, but she wouldn’t stay to face starvation. The bandits had taught her to trust herself and no one else. Perhaps it was only natural that she took the weapon they’d created into her own hands.

The wind howled a brutal song that night as it tore across the wasteland meadows. Rosaria struggled against it, head bowed, trudging through the snow farther and farther away from her family’s camp. She didn’t know where she would go—all she would find at her old village would be skeletal ruins, and all she knew about the distant city of Mondstadt was that they were so rich they hardly even noticed when their shipments were stolen. Surely they would close their gates to a thief like her.

How he found her, Rosaria would never know. No hope soared when his hand clamped down on her arm; he may have been the one to bring her to the camp, but no bandit followed the rules more strictly than he did. “Rosaria,” he rumbled. She wrenched her wrist away from his grasp—despite the situation, he smiled slightly in approval, and blinding anger nearly made her weep. “You know this was a mistake.”

“I will die back there,” she hissed, because soft words and pleading would get her nowhere. “I had no choice.”

The old bandit’s laugh echoed across the snow-piled landscape. “Well, now you’ve chosen to die here instead.”

Rosaria backed away. She was shorter than him, and smaller, too; she was cunning and good with strategy, but he had decades of experience. Worst of all, she was unarmed. He would track her if she ran; she would never be safe. But it seemed to be all she could do.

That is, until he pulled a knife from his pocket and tossed it to her with a grin.

She caught in time and held it up. It was a switchblade that gleamed silver under the moonlight. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as he said, “You’re still young, but you’re old enough to step up. Those Knights of Favonius are getting too bold. Soon enough, it’ll be all we can do just to avoid them. You could really help us out as a full-fledged bandit… if you can prove yourself.”

“If I leave now, the others will never know. I’ll go to Liyue, or Sumeru, or—somewhere, anywhere far away, and you’ll never have to worry about me again.”

He laughed again, harshly. “You think they want you in those places, girl? You’ve got no use but fighting and hard labor. They’ll arrest you before you can blink and then you’ll spend the rest of your life working in prison, and that’ll make you wish you were still here with us.” The old bandit nodded towards the switchblade she held. “It’s victory or execution.”

“Father,” Rosaria whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this.”

The bandit only shrugged. “No point in arguing. This is what happens to deserters; you need to learn it sometime or other. Now, don’t you want freedom?”

He lunged forward, and Rosaria had no choice but to fight.

The duel lasted nearly half an hour, and by its end, more thieves had come looking. They gathered around them in a silent circle. When it was over, and the snow was soaked in scarlet, the only sound left was the wind. A storm gathered overhead, and an icy blue Vision glittered in Rosaria’s palm.

Being a full-fledged bandit turned out not to matter that much. She experienced only a few months of equal treatment before the Knights of Favonius came calling. Her family would not go quietly, and so Rosaria witnessed another night in which the place she lived was torn apart and stained with blood. She didn’t fight. She didn’t move a muscle to protect anyone. She only sat in her tent and waited until a silhouette appeared at the entrance: a large man who reminded her vaguely of her false father.

Dismay was clear on the man’s face as he knelt next to her. “You’re just a kid,” he said over the cacophony of combat outside, and “What’s your name, sweetheart?” and “Did they hurt you?” and “Let’s get you out of here.” She found out much later that his name was Varka.

Rosaria didn’t know where these Knights were taking her, if they would treat her any better than her criminal family or if a jail cell was all that awaited her at the end of the road. She couldn’t bring herself to care very much. If that was the case, she’d just run again. She’d learned some tricks for the next time.

When they reached the shining city, none of the Knights seemed to know what to do with her. Finally, Varka escorted her through the bright, lively, strange streets, stopping in front of the entrance of a colossal building which he called the Church. “Ask for Sister Victoria,” he told her. He tried to pat her on the head in reassurance, but she stepped out of his reach. “The nuns will take care of you. And I bet time in the sunshine will do you some good.”

Instead, she began her new life of moonlight.

Nobody knew every side of her story. Varka knew she was stolen from a destroyed village, but she let him believe she was innocent. Sister Victoria knew she had been a thief, but she assumed she had simply been a wayward orphan pickpocket. Kaeya knew that she had no family, and that she had been raised and trained to fight in cruelty, but she kept many of the details from him. And to the population of Mondstadt, she was simply the eccentric nun who’d shown up out of nowhere. Most people even forgot there was ever a time when the unnerving Sister Rosaria didn’t ghost the alleys and rooftops of the city.

And now she was back on a snow-covered mountain, as though nothing had ever changed.

“You know, I might go back to Mondstadt just for a proper drink.”

“I’m not surprised that you already miss Death After Noon,” Rosaria answered, pulling out a cloth and beginning to polish her switchblade. Beside her, Kaeya leaned back, letting his head sink into the snow.

“I don’t understand how you don’t. I would be tempted within the first hour.”

Exercise would do that to a person. And since the two of them had just scaled the cliffside nearest to the cave and were now sitting, legs dangling, at the summit of one of Dragonspine’s peaks, Rosaria supposed she couldn’t blame him. Still, she watched him out of the corner of her eye and said, “Perhaps I don’t want to subject myself to the Church’s scorn.”

“Oh, please. If you cared about the scorn of anyone, you’d have quit long before now.”

Rosaria tilted her head back. Her smile always had a serrated edge; it was comfortable that way. “True.”

Kaeya glanced at her. Before them, the sun was sinking into the hills of the lowlands. They could see for miles and miles, every rolling green hill and jutting cliff of Mondstadt's valleys. When they looked down at the dizzying drop below them, the rocky slopes of Dragonspine's base blended upwards into its snowy sides. They were only about halfway up the mountain, and yet Rosaria felt as though she'd never been so high in her life. She never wanted to leave.

His brown skin glowed amber in its light. Rosaria was the purveyor of justice (or at least, she used to be), so she could say with certainty that it wasn’t fair, how he looked right now. “I mean it, though. Do you really not miss anything about Mondstadt?”

She held his ice-grey gaze for only a moment before breaking away. Her grip on the knife tightened; with reluctance, she flipped it shut and tucked it back into its hidden pocket. “If you’re still trying to get me to go back with you, this approach won’t work.”

“Then what will? Shall I beg?”

"If you like."

Kaeya laughed and turned his face back towards the world that was laid before them. “Everything’s so complicated with you.”

Then his gaze sharpened, and he pointed towards the horizon. “Look.”

Miles away, streetlamps were lit, and candles were placed in windows to share their orange glow with the entire night. They hadn’t noticed it before, hidden behind a hill as it was, but now that darkness fell, the shape of the city was made visible. Even the points of the Cathedral were distantly defined against the sky. It seemed miniscule from here. Rosaria could have plucked all of Mondstadt from the ground and placed it in her pocket for safekeeping.

Into the silence, Rosaria breathed, "The last time I tried to quit something, I almost died. I mean... they tried to kill me."

Kaeya, who had seemed as enraptured by the faraway city as she, looked towards her sharply. “You never told me that.”

“I've never told anyone. I didn't want to give Varka or Sister Victoria a reason to think I'm more traumatized than they already thought."

"Well, I promise no one's going to try to kill you if you come back to Mondstadt."

"Obviously I know that," she replied, harsher than she meant to. After a moment, she added, "You know, I didn't choose to be nun. To worship a god who's done nothing for me."

"Was 'hermit on a mountain' always your dream job, then?"

"I used to want to be a Knight. Varka wouldn't let me take the entrance exam."

"What? Why not? You're more skilled than nine-tenths of the applicants we receive."

“I think it had something to do with my training—or, well, my lack of it. Polearms and knives aren’t standard Knight weapons. But I suppose I should be glad. I can’t imagine having to actually listen when my superiors tell me to do something.”

Kaeya didn’t laugh, as she’d thought he might. “It’s not too late. I could talk to Varka.”

Blood. Snow. Screaming. Rosaria’s hands curled into fists, even though her Vision lay dormant and had since arriving on Dragonspine. She would never know how to explain to anyone else the images that flashed through her at the sound of Varka’s name, or how even the idea of joining the Knights struck her with dizziness. That was the real reason Varka hadn’t let her take the entrance exam. She hadn’t been able to sit through the preliminary interview without snapping at him and storming off. Later, he’d acted disappointed—said he couldn’t understand why she’d sabotaged herself. Rosaria didn’t know how to explain that she didn’t either.

She thought of what that last Treasure Hoarder had told her, two weeks ago. "Wrong side, sister." He didn’t know her, didn’t even know she was a nun, but still, that phrase had snagged in her mind. If her false father had been right with his dying words, and no nation would ever want her, then how was she to know if she was choosing the right cause?

"You must love this, Kaeya. I've already given you two of my secrets tonight."

Kaeya gave her an odd look. "I don't see this as trading secrets. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to use any of this against you; you're not hiding it because it's salacious or damaging, you just don't tell people because it's none of their business."

Oh. She supposed he was right. When had she started to believe that every conversation was only for practicality's sake?

"It would be fairer if I told you something in return, though," Kaeya said softly. "So, here's one of my secrets. I admire you—your dedication, your ferocity, but most of your honesty. Everyone who looks at you knows exactly who you are, and you don't care. Everyone has something that holds them back from being themself. I hide so much of myself that sometimes I don't remember which parts actually belong to me. But you... you don't hide at all. That's why I can't understand this. What are you hiding from now?"

The sun had set while they spoke, above the world together. For the first time, Rosaria wasn't grateful for the moonlight; all she could see of Kaeya was the outline of his face and the glint of his pale eyes. She wanted the sunset back, along with his amber skin and glittering smile—she wanted to see him, in the ways no one else ever did.

She didn’t need him to tell her about herself; she didn’t need anyone. The gentleness with which he was treating her now was more bewildering than anything else. But for the first time since he’d shown up in the cave, she understood what he had sacrificed to come here. It was more than just a temporary inconvenience. He was revealing his soul to her in glimpses, in actions, in words. His only salvation from Mondstadt's judgment was his carefree persona, and he was forsaking it just to comfort her.

She did not owe him an explanation. But at that moment, she wanted to give it to him.

“Last night, you said the other Knights don’t understand things the way we do,” she began. “You’re right. Our perception of Mondstadt is similar, as is our devotion to it. It’s just that sometime in the past month or so, that devotion has become—tarnished, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“Exhaustion? Disillusionment? Anger? I’ve never regretted the time I’ve spent serving Mondstadt. I knew when I chose this path that I would never receive accolades, or even support, from the ones I’m working for. But day after day of berating, of harassment… it’s grating. I was worn too thin to keep going like that.”

“So you needed a break,” Kaeya said, nodding along.

“Mondstadt doesn’t want me,” Rosaria said, flatly. “That’s the truth, and I’ve never minded it. It was just time for me to accept it and leave.”

She didn’t expect him to laugh.

“That’s why you quit? You finally gave into their scorn?”

“No,” she snapped. “I was tired of working for a city that despises me because I don’t attend celebrations of a god that doesn’t care about us. I was tired of getting harassed in taverns because I’m a woman who’s quiet and wears clothes she can move in. I was tired of stealing minutes of sleep because every waking hour is spent fighting for people who don’t understand what happens outside their walls. I didn’t give in or give up. I just—stopped. For years—since I arrived at the convent—my life has been tolerated, and that was fine for a while, because at least it was better than suffering. But is it so wrong for me to want more?”

He started to say something, to protest, but Rosaria cut him off. “Don’t say it isn’t true, Kaeya. The whole of Mondstadt loves you. You might understand more than anyone else, but you still can’t know what it’s like.”

“Fine,” he replied, reluctant. “I know I can’t. And I know you’re right about Mondstadt, but you’re wrong that they love me. They love what they know about me, which is very little and mostly a lie.”

Rosaria smiled bitterly. “So that’s it, then. Which of us is better off?”

They were both silent for a long, long moment, watching the dark settle on the world like a haze. The lights of Mondstadt shone throughout it all. If she focused, Rosaria could still hear its melody, a distant siren song of freedom carried by the wind.

“Are you happy here?” Kaeya asked, finally.

Rosaria tensed. She tried to respond, but her lips wouldn’t form words.

“Because if you are, then I’ll truly leave you alone. Maybe happy isn’t the right word. Satisfied?”

What was satisfaction? She thought of walking well-worn paths for hours. She thought of quiet days, unbroken snow, a complete and serene lack of duty.

But if she was being honest with herself, those were lies.

The time she’d spent on Dragonspine had been enlightening. Rosaria had never lived as freely as she had in the past two weeks, but it had only bound her more tightly to the knowledge that she was not supposed to be here. Freedom did not lie in breaking the commitments she’d made, even if no one but her knew the truth behind them.

Satisfaction was trading secrets in the amber glow of streetlamps, the constant fight against a job that would never be over. Freedom was pledging yourself to a cause that would drain all your free time, except what you could snatch under the moonlit forest canopy or at the back table of a tavern. It was paradoxical, but what was Sister Rosaria if not a contradiction?

She'd thought she was choosing a better life here. But all she was doing was running from the only place that deserved her. It wasn't easy the way life on Dragonspine was, but it meant so much more. And after all, she was Rosaria. Bandit, vigilante, Sister of the Church.

She didn't run from fights.

Perhaps Kaeya could see her decision reflected in her expression. He promised her, “If you come back to Mondstadt, you won’t have to take their scorn or prove them wrong or whatever they’re expecting you to do. Do what you want. Protect who you want to. And I know I can’t ask you to come back just for me—” he gave her a sly smile— “but I am a bonus, aren’t I?”

There was nothing Rosaria could say that would convey more than this: slipping her hand in his, finally interlacing their fingers. His skin felt as soft and cold as the snow surrounding them, and she wondered how different this would feel when she put her claw rings back on in Mondstadt.

“You,” she said to the freezing air, to the chasm beneath them, “are an inconvenience at best.”

To be quite honest, Rosaria hadn’t expected the Church to welcome her back as enthusiastically as it did. She was half-considering simply showing up to Mass and never acknowledging that she’d been gone in the first place. But that plan was waylaid by Sister Barbara, who saw her in the hall of the convent and released a shriek that left Rosaria’s ears ringing. Her body was enfolded in a hug before she could react.

“Sister Rosaria! Oh, I’ve been so worried! What in the name of Barbatos possessed you to leave the way you did?”

She must be telling the truth, if she would take Barbatos’s name in vain without even realizing. Awkwardly, Rosaria said, “I… needed a break.”

“But you’re back now? You’re returning to the convent for good?”

“Yes,” Rosaria said flatly. “I’ve realized the error of my sinful ways and have come to beg the Anemo Archon for forgiveness.”

If the child heard the insincerity in her tone, she disregarded it. “I’m so glad. You know, Sister Victoria said you were never coming back! She said you’d—‘succumbed to the unholy influences of the outside world’, I believe it was. But I knew better. You’re a good person, Sister Rosaria.”

“Right,” she said. She adjusted her crown; though it was still strange to be wearing her habit again, she had missed the comforting weight of the thorns on her brow. “Speaking of Sister Victoria—”

“Oh, I’ll tell her the news myself, no need to worry!”

She started to scamper away, but before she could think it through, Rosaria laid a hand on her arm to stop her. “Sister Barbara, wait.”

The girl bobbed her pigtailed head up and down, her blue eyes wide and expectant. Oh, Rosaria realized, and any doubts she’d had since re-entering Mondstadt’s walls vanished. I remember now. These are the people I’m protecting.

Her tone was still cold as she addressed Sister Barbara, however. Someone had to remind her that she wouldn’t be idolized by the whole world. “I apologize if I impacted your recital in any way. I… I will personally ensure that the next one goes smoothly. And if anyone ever makes you feel uncomfortable, do not hesitate to tell me.”

“Thanks!” Sister Barbara chirped, all smiles, before running off to find Sister Victoria. Rosaria sighed. She didn’t make very many promises; hopefully, the child would remember this one.

Then the bells rang, six times. She’d forgotten how quickly time could be lost when one was working. As Rosaria slipped through the halls of the convent, a strange sensation settled over her—it was far from contentment and mixed with a heavy dose of annoyance, but still. Some part of her was glad to be back.

“Sister Rosaria!” Wagner called as she walked past his shop. “Good to see you back.”

She raised a hand in quick acknowledgment and continued down the street. So far, three people had called out greetings to her. She supposed she should be annoyed at the interruption, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to feel it.

She met Kaeya on one of the city’s outer walls, in a turret that was only accessible to Knights and those who could climb its rough-hewn stones. “You took your time,” he remarked, ignoring the dark look she shot him. “How did the convent react to your miraculous return yesterday?”

Rosaria shrugged, idly clicking her claw rings together. “Not as badly as I expected. Sister Victoria’s furious, of course, but she’s letting me stay.”

“Have you told Albedo you’ve abandoned his research station?”

“I ran into his assistant and told her to let him know. I don’t think he’ll mind too much.”

“Then you’re ready for tonight?”

She didn’t even get a day of readjustment before she was dragged back into the jaws of Mondstadt’s underworld. Now, though, she wouldn’t have to be alone every time. “You mean those Treasure Hoarders? I still think we should just interrogate them properly.”

“Some subtlety won’t kill you, Rosaria. Besides, I know you’re eager to work with me.”

“I’m more eager to spend some time in a tavern.”

“Well, it was your idea to spend two weeks drinking nothing but melted snow.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it. Together, they walked along Mondstadt’s west wall, watching the streets below for any sign of their targets. Rosaria hesitated; what she wanted to say trespassed into a sincerity which neither of them voiced often. Still, she felt like she needed to. “I don’t regret it, you know.”

Kaeya tilted his head, listening. She continued, “I needed to leave. Perhaps I’ll need to again, one day. So, I don’t regret it. But… this feels right. Being back.”

“Then I don’t regret searching for you.” Kaeya nodded towards the street below. “Our Treasure Hoarders.”

There they were: three thieves entering the Cat’s Tail Tavern. Kaeya and Rosaria would arrive late enough that they’d have already ordered a round; late enough that their tongues would loosen and they’d start giving information out like candy. As much as she preferred more physical methods, Rosaria had to admit Kaeya’s strategy was an ingenious one.

The two of them reached the crowded bar and slipped into the empty seats with ease. The thieves barely registered their sudden appearance, and they didn’t question Rosaria’s presence at all. According to Kaeya, these were longtime contacts of his who would accept bribes and invitations to drinking nights and then think themselves clever for keeping some facts hidden. They had no idea how much they were actually giving away. If all went well, they would be able to learn the basic plans of every Treasure Hoarder faction in the region.

And so, the rest of the night passed by. Rosaria and Kaeya worked together as fluidly as water, showing as little mercy as the cold they embraced. At one point, the pretty bartender brought them another round of Deaths After Noon and asked Kaeya if he’d like to spend a day together at Starsnatch Cliff. Rosaria didn’t react, but she couldn’t help feeling a note of satisfaction when Kaeya turned them down with a smile charming enough that they walked away feeling dazzled instead of rejected. The two of them hadn’t talked about it—not yet—but Rosaria knew that Kaeya could also feel the shift in their dynamic, even though an outsider might not have seen the ways their connection was changing. Keeping herself here, with him, was an act as fierce as the fights she’d won. Rosaria wouldn’t hide from herself any longer. She wanted to know how they would play out; she craved the tumultuous future in store for the two of them.

So what if the people she protected didn’t know they needed her? Rosaria was the daughter of thieves of moonlight. She chose her own fate. She would spare no attention to any judgment but her own.

And it was here, crowned with iron, wreathed in a melody she would live to protect, that she chose to stay.