Work Text:
To be a part of someone’s universe, you only need to believe.
───────
Noelle’s only wish is to serve.
It doesn’t matter who or where—all she has ever wanted is to be there for someone. Even so, there really isn’t anybody who wants her around. There’s Bennett, who’s too kind not to take notice of her, but their conversations hardly travel beyond his attempts to persuade her into joining as a member of the Adventurer’s Guild. On other occasions, there’s Kaeya, who has nicknamed her the “errand runner”, which she isn’t quite fond of but can’t exactly deny. Mondstadt isn’t too big a city within its high cobblestone walls, but Noelle finds that it isn’t too difficult to get lost in the crowd.
Noelle is left mostly on her own, so she’s always searching for new ways to occupy herself. She doesn’t like having nothing to do, so before she lets herself get bored, she mops the floors down in the Favonius Headquarters, or reorganises Jean’s papers when she’s busy keeping Mondstadt’s affairs in order. Of all places, however, Noelle enjoys biding her time in the library most.
Noelle isn’t an avid reader. What she knows about novels is limited to the passing conversations she has heard between the children on the streets—girls gushing over the story of a little princess making a name for herself in her kingdom and boys dreaming about a universe where they can ride dragons and conquer lands, just as they do in books. She doesn’t go for the company of novels, rather the atmosphere. Everything feels possible in the four, wooden walls of the library—the history of Teyvat tucked into neatly-organised shelves and the hopes and dreams of every writer brimming in their words.
The library is also the only place she sees Fischl, the girl who moved in to Mondstadt some time ago. Fischl looks intimidating from afar. She has an air of regality and carries herself with a kind of formality that makes everyone wonder if she was born into the right era. She also wears an eyepatch, which only serves to raise more questions.
Though, if Noelle has learned anything during her time with Fischl—it’s that she’s far from intimidating during conversation. Fischl’s actually really sweet, and quickly becomes the one person that Noelle loves to be around. When Noelle first approached her to ask about the book she’s reading, she expected to be ignored or turned away as everyone else does, but Fischl had looked up at her with stars gleaming in her eyes and Noelle had been taken in a way that stopped her heart in her chest. From then on, Noelle kept coming back to her with newer reasons to talk, even if Fischl would have talked to her regardless of the conversation. Fischl didn’t know, but doing so much as acknowledging Noelle’s existence was one of the little things that made her chest feel all warm and fluttery.
Visits to the Favonius Library becomes a part of her daily routine before long. There, she expects to find Fischl reading in her usual corner, surrounded in a bubble of euphoria she built out of dreams. There’s a way that the corners of her eyes crease when she reads her favourite fairytale, and Noelle thinks she could stare at her all day and still be happy. As always, she carries a silver tray with her signature Lighter than Air pancakes, a generous dollop of whipped cream sandwiched between berries and a mint leaf as Fischl most likes it. She also brings a cup of Early Grey, which Fischl recently discovered she likes after Noelle’s recommendation.
Today isn’t like other days, though. When she walks into the library, she finds Fischl hugging her knees, staring at the wooden planks before her with a void washing over her eyes. Noelle pauses, not knowing understand what to do until she notices a single tear drop trail down Fischl’s cheek. Her heart squeezes in her chest and worry takes over her mind, damning every ounce of rationality in her body. Noelle’s following actions are as follows:
She slams the tray against the wooden table (although it’s barely loud enough for impact). She sits in front of Fischl. She gives Fischl a hug.
There may have been an ounce of thought behind the first two actions. By the third, Noelle follows her instinct. She isn’t sure how long it has been since she has hugged anyone herself so as she leans her chest against Fischl’s, their hearts touching through the skin and thin fabric of their dresses, she can only wonder if she’s holding her too tightly, too softly, if she’s too close or if she should lean closer. Noelle pulls away soon after, scared that she has crossed a boundary when Fischl doesn’t even flinch. She inches backwards only a little and turns her head away, the corners of her ears flushed. Fischl pins her gaze to the floor, absent-minded.
“They kept telling me it was fine,” she mutters, fidgeting with the frilled seams of her dress. She draws her hand up her chest, only stopping when it reaches over her heart. She squeezes the fabric, clenching her jaw in an attempt to fight back more tears. “They always told me anyone I wanted to be—that I would be a princess, and I would have my Oz, and everything would be as I wanted it to be. But now, it’s not real. They’re telling me it’s not real.”
Then, she looks up at Noelle with shaky eyes, as though she’s begging for some kind of assurance that the fantasy she has written on every wall of her mind isn’t all make-believe. Noelle’s eyes widen when she sees Fischl this way, her summer hair fraying at the ends and covering her eyes, cheeks flushed red, red, like the setting sun and tears streaming down her face. This isn’t the first time Noelle has seen someone cry. In all her time at the Favonius Headquarters, she has seen many succumb to the stress of daily life. Even then, nothing could have prepared her for the ache that would cave into her chest at the sight of Fischl’s carefully-constructed universe falling apart.
Fischl, embarrassed, buries her face in her hands. She shakes her head, “They’re tearing it apart—”
“—we can build it back together—” Noelle fights, standing in front of her princess’ dreams like the knight she always yearned to be. She places a hand on Fischl’s shoulder, squeezing it, hoping that even the smallest ounce of the immense faith she has in Fischl will convince her that all hope isn’t lost yet.
“—I can’t be who I want to be—”
“—You’re Fischl, and you’ll always be Fischl—”
“I’ve already forgotten what it’s like to be Amy,” Fischl says, defeated, as she lets her hands fall against her lap. She leans her head back against the bookshelf, hardly able to catch her breath between her sobbing. She stares up at the white ceiling light, no longer bothering to wipe the tears out of her eyes. Noelle stares at her, studying her face, wishing she was any more capable at making Fischl happier. Noelle has never felt the desire to give someone the world more than this moment and truly, it’s a tragic feeling. She imagines she would have sculpted the moon with her own hands if it would give Fischl all that she deserves.
“There was once a little girl, Amy,” Fischl speaks up again, eventually breaking the silence between them. She raises her hand and begins drawing in the air. “She loved to read fairytales. Of them all, she had a favourite. Flowers for Princess Fischl. Amy loved Fischl. Fischl was everything she wanted to be, so it’s who she would grow to become,” Fischl draws the vague silhouette of a crown in the air. “And everybody supported her. They told her that she was Fischl, and that Fischl’s who she’s meant to be. But growing up took a lot from Amy. Even her identity.”
“You shouldn’t have to choose,” Noelle says. “You can be the author of your story and the girl your parents want you to be.”
“What if I can’t?” Fischl stutters, her voice softening into silence.
“You can’t change who you are,” Noelle smiles wistfully. “But you’ll always be Princess Fischl at heart, and to me.”
Fischl pauses at this. She leans forward, and Noelle’s just close enough for Fischl to rest her forehead against her shoulder. They sit in silence for a while. They don't need to talk for them to read each other’s minds. Fischl is scared of getting too close. Even so, she has to. Outside her own little kingdom, there was nothing that she knew from beyond. It’s a place only she would go to, a breaking, but still existent home that would only be hers. There’s a time when she’ll have to open her eyes, even if she’s happier with her eyes closed. Because outside the grandeur of her palace and the comfort of her imagination, there’s a reality that’s harsh, and cold and will break her apart if she falters. It’s painful to trust, because her bed of roses has grown thorns and it’ll be too late to get up once she has sunk in too deep.
But why?
Fischl wonders. Of all she could do wrong, the worst it seems that Fischl has done, is to be herself.
Noelle will never understand what Fischl feels. She’s somewhat of an empty husk put next to Fischl, with no real goal but to serve. She’s not a soldier, or a knight, only but a maid who strives to protect. She doesn’t know what to say, or have any words of comfort to offer, because it’s impossible to see Fischl’s world through her own eyes.
Fischl and Noelle, they’ve always been good at heart. Their only similarity is that they’ll never be good enough for anyone but themselves.
“I live to serve you,” Noelle says meekly. “It’s what the Prinzessin deserves.”
When Fischl lifts her head from Noelle’s shoulder and they meet eyes, their universe shrinks very quickly into one with a capacity of two. Fischl stares into the gemstones of Noelle’s eyes, cheeks stained with tears but also much redder than they were before. Her gaze falls and for a second, her breath catches. She looks up again, her heart roaring in her ears and thrumming at the tips of the fingers she places against Noelle’s cheeks. She realises then that what she’s feeling is more than joy and something else that she’s yet to comprehend.
“It’s not very royal of you to cry, princess,” Noelle says with a soft laugh, one that sounds to Fischl like the wind during spring, a choir of birds and a prayer. Noelle leans her face into Fischl’s hand, reaching her own to wipe Fischl’s tears.
“Very well then. I’ll do as I must,” Fischl smiles, and this time, it’s brighter than Noelle has ever seen it. Her teeth peek through the gaps of her lips and the sunlight streaming in through the windows makes her face shine like an aurora, placing a crown on the beauty that always made Noelle’s heart stutter. Noelle feels lighter than air, as if she’s toeing the line between dream and reality with a girl who wears beauty like it’s skin.
And thus begins the making of a fairytale—for the Princess would have her dearest maid and the maid would now have the Princess she wholeheartedly wants to serve.