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Venti knows that the prince’s eyes never leave them; from the beginning in the heart of Whispering Woods to the Lumine’s arrival at Mond to their final facedown with Dvalin. That is why he wasn’t surprised when he met a familiar figure under the tree, only slightly taken aback when Aether appears to be waiting for him.
He had wanted to see him, of course. It’s just that, for some reason, in all those times when the Abyss Prince's eyes are on them, he wished that it was on him instead.
Venti hoped it was on him.
But he knows that upon Lumine’s appearance to Teyvat, she would be the center of everything, the eye of the storm that will begin to drive his plans forward.
All those nice and giddy feelings are gone when Aether holds out his hand, to which he accepts with half a mind working and the prince begins to dress his wounds-
He swears Aether’s doing it on purpose.
“Does it hurt?” He asks with a gentleness Venti hadn’t heard in a while.
“Nnn.” His moan of pain is muffled within Aether’s scarf, momentarily distracted with the sudden moment of kindness. Even though Aether showed up to tend to his wounds, Venti didn’t think he would show that side of him again.
After the ordeal with Signora, he’s met with a crackle of white blinding his eyes. He’s sitting in a white subspace, an area completely white that stretches for miles on end. He would like to think that this was the effect of having his gnosis taken, but that's hardly the case.
No celestial secretaries or higher-ups came to scold him, there was no response from Celestia at all. Instead, this was the part of him that he’d kept hidden, the last layer of him that was not submerged within a myriad of chaos.
Gold fills the corner of his vision, then comes a wave of midnight blue blanketing the background of the bright star.
Ah, to think that would be what his mind trails to when he gets knocked out; the insatiable part of him that believed he deserves to run free and explore the universe, along with the golden star that he conjured up to travel alongside with him.
A fleeting dream, sure, but this feels like his life flashing before him more than anything-hold up, was getting your gnosis taken the equivalent of dying? That’s a funny idea, even though he knows he isn’t dying, at least not yet.
He had woken up first. Actually, he never got knocked out fully, just enough to teeter on the edge of consciousness, since he never made an effort to increase the durability of his human form. So when he finally mustered the strength to get up and get to Windrise, it happened to be at the same time the Deaconess and Acting Grandmaster came from the Cathedral, shock was much of an understatement on their part.
He waved it off, despite looking like a hunched over senior citizen who forgot his cane, clutching his stomach that was hurting like he ate something bad, but he ducked away quick enough for Barbara to only linger behind with to mull over his unconvincing words of reassurance. But Jean seemed to understand his reasoning for leaving to the Symbol of Mondstadt’s hero, stopping Barbara from chasing after him, so they can tend to Lumine and Paimon instead.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Aether’s voice brings him back to the surface of reality, and he tightens his arms around his waist, in too much pain to say anything else.
He hears some bottles clinking from the side, so he peeks out with one eye to take a look. Small bottles of anemo infused concoctions are all he can discern from the appearance, nothing of interest, really.
Aether says something else, sassing him for something about watching himself instead of running willy nilly into danger while Venti’s zoned in on the lull of his voice he had missed so much, the firm touches of his hands bandaging the wounds that he thinks should be given a gentler treatment-
“Gods, you’re getting more like Morax every day,” Venti groans, making Aether press harder onto his cuts to make him pay for the offense, some of which he accidentally made during his clumsy way to Windrise. Well, he welcomes the pain, only when Aether gives it to him.
“Fine. Riddle me this. How are you going to fare without your gnosis alone, then? Such a sudden shift in your power can give you awful fits of pain because you don’t take care of yourself at all. The fact that you gave most of your blessings and power to Dvain will just worsen it.”
(Silently, Venti wishes for his next few days to be bedridden, with the prince by his side, nursing him back to health. It’s the least he can do!)
“It’s not like they took my heart away.” He says instead, his face still buried in Aether’s chest, the prince’s scarf warmed up from his breaths. “I’ll manage somehow.”
“Tsk.” He hears Aether make a noise of disapproval.
To appease his worries Venti adds for no reason because Aether already knows about it, “I mean, the tree can heal me plenty, yet you showed up, of all times…”
Aether stares at him, incredulous as he shoots glances at the tree and at him. “Of course I came.”
The air shifts, from something casual and even a little playful to something he can’t put his finger on. Venti can only sigh, a little tired of everything. He gives him a glance that can only be seen as critical of his actions.
“It’s hypocritical of you to do so-” Venti says, stretching his arms downward.
He decides to test the prince, to see how much he’d grown. “-especially when you’re in cahoots with the harbinger who took my connection to Celestia. I see you watching me earlier.”
Aether does not freeze at his accusations anymore, nor does he express any sort of reaction that can be seen as weak, the perfect mask of a prince, nurtured through hundreds of years of conflict.
He does not know how to feel about it, riddled with guilt as he already is, having played a part in helping Aether with that mask, yet they’re here, so what happens, happens.
Instead, the blond only watches him with a steady, warm gaze, nothing that screams of feeling antagonized, nothing that looks at him like he’s the enemy-
Venti makes no effort to move when Aether leans in, his lips perfectly soft, melding against his, just as he remembered.
Even as the memories of the past come to the front of his mind, he can’t push Aether away; back when that miserable, antagonistic gaze was directed at him, it cracked a part of him he didn’t know he wanted it whole. He can’t bear to push him away, not when his chest is fluttering with a newfound life that he hasn’t felt since they last parted.
(Aether had noticeably mellowed out over the years, what with his demeanor and all, he had to note. Maybe it’s just the prince mask he’s donning, maybe not.)
He chases the youthful feeling down with fervor, unwilling to let go. Venti squeaks when Aether’s hand fumbles at his back knowingly-yet it’s as if Aether’s unsure how to hold him anymore.
Still, the prince drinks his noises in and holds him close, tenderly pressing his body against his.
The bard returns the embrace, remembering the exact way Aether likes it. He slings his arms above the prince’s shoulders, one of Venti’s hands covers his nape, bringing Aether closer to him.
Warm and slotted perfectly in between his arms and body, Venti continues to let Aether repeatedly smother him with wet, open mouthed kisses. He lets Aether lap at his mouth, opening him up as he goes deeper to suck at his tongue. His neck is soon nicked with small marks blooming into a nice shade of red against his now flushed skin.
Such a familiar gesture of intimacy, but he feels out of his depth.
It speaks volumes of the time they’d spent apart, Venti notes, taking in the new and old details of Aether to memory as they move, but their muscle memory still remembers everything.
Out of breath and wordless, he feels the back of his nose starting to sting the moment they parted. Sensing that turmoil, Aether does not try to part with him completely. So he lets their shoulders rest against each other with their hands still intertwined.
“In the end, I had no role in the Fatui's goals,” Aether finally tells him. “Rather, I merely helped them speed up the process, you know that already though?”
“I was just testing you.” Venti puffs his cheeks. “I just didn’t think the Fatuis would come this early to claim-nevermind.”
In hindsight, he knew it was about time. The Fatui diplomats pressuring Mond to give in as Dvalin terrorized the city, making matters worse, occupying the entire Goth Grand Hotel like it was nobody’s business...
Venti was just pushing it away, thinking the day wouldn’t come for him yet. Even though Dvalin left for the skies after they saved him and gave away his power and blessings to him. He still didn’t want to face it.
Chuckling, Aether continues. “Tell me, you wouldn’t want the Tsaritsa to knock on your door and give you a run for your gnosis personally, won’t you?”
“Yeesh,” Venti sniffs, sticks out his tongue at the thought of an old friend turned enemy beating the crap out of him. Aether smiles at him in response, a warm thing he finds himself missing the most. “Such a crass comparison. I get what you’re saying, but now I’m suddenly broke and gnosis-less.”
A pause, long enough to hear nearby birds squawk at each other for a while.
“Then why not come with me? To the Abyss?” There it is, the invitation he has expected to hear. A few hundred years ago, when he’s too hung up over his emotions and unexpected infatuation, he might be jumping in joy. Now, though the fire in him has long been tamed, he still feels the same; he feels the rush of anticipation coursing through him like he’d just gotten here post-fight, his fingers twitching with a life of their own just to grab a handful of that blond hair the moment they make eye contact-
Aether actually yelps when he jumps him, good, he thinks, watching the prince thrash underneath him. The cracks of his mask become more visible, at least to him, anyway. Venti watches his eyes blow wide open as he descends low to meet his gaze closely.
He helplessly bucks his hips when Venti finally stops kissing him with the frenetic energy of a hungry lion only to grind down at him, watching his pupils dilate and shadow over with lust-
“My sister is coming,” he gasps brokenly, making Venti want to torture him even more. Whether it was his sibling senses tingling or the fact that he’s in full control of the Anemo element, unsurprisingly, he’s right.
“I’ve begun to wonder,” Venti starts with a joking tone. “Lumine’s journey would be over the moment you reunite with her, wouldn’t it?”
“I won’t let that happen,” Aether says, as firm as he can get when he looks so unbelievably flushed when Venti only barely touched him. His mask is almost cracked completely, and strangely, he feels great satisfaction in that-to render him completely under his control, to take off that mask with an ease that no one else could, no, would be able to take out.
“She just left Mond’s gates,” Venti adds as he hesitantly leaves to sit on the grass, taking in more information the wind tells him. She’s still a few minutes away from arriving at the mouth of Windrise’s large plains.
Venti summons a whirl of anemo, it’s cool on his hand, he applies the whirling ball to his neck. It dissipates like how a hydro orb would pop, except it doesn’t splash, it washes over him like odorless fumes, bursting onto his skin and spreading out into the air as the teal color turns dull and goes back to the wind. His fingers drag from under his chin to the base of his collarbones, letting it wash over him with relief as the marks that are still visible on his neck get glossed over; a simple illusion spell to get through the last of the social interactions for the day.
Aether gulps at the suggestive sight, swiftly looking away with a silent curse.
The pair of travelers will be arriving at the plains of Windrise soon, and only the shade of the tree can obscure the two sitting under it.
Still, to be safe, Aether stands, preparing to leave anyways.
“I’ll see you in a bit…” Aether pulls his gloves down his wrists tighter, hesitant as he looks at him, curious and almost pleading. “If...if you’re willing.”
“Of course,” Venti hears himself saying without hesitation. “I’m always willing.” Anything for you goes unsaid, permeating all of his intentions.
Just like that, Aether’s back is turned to him, but no longer is that a sign of goodbye. Still, Venti feels a slight pang of terror when he sees his back, even though he knows better. The prince is gone in the blink of an eye; the next time he sees him is when he sees Aether perched on the top of a cliff across from him, the last thing he sees is blond against the backdrop of a clear blue sky.
He sucks in a breath, feeling the power of the tree purifying the rest of his internal injuries as he sees the traveling pair approach the tree.
.
Lying through his teeth that he knows no Prince of the Abyss is...new.
No one ever casually asks about the existence of the Order lest they attract dirty looks and maybe a life of bad luck.
To say that Aether has hidden his existence pretty well is an understatement.
(He’s giddy to be the select few to be in on a groundbreaking secret.
Even the secret of gnosis, to which he discloses to Lumine, pales in comparison. It tells a lot about him and what he truly prioritizes in levels of importance.)
.
Starsnatch Cliff is often a rendezvous for lovers and dates. Tonight, however, doesn’t seem to be the case-the ones who frequently gather around this area do not show, and he feels a strange but familiar aura running amok the grassy uphill reaching to the cliff.
He must have kicked them all out, Venti thinks in amusement.
When he reaches the very top of the cliff, he sees him sitting there. Even with his back to him, his cape billowing softly in the wind, he looks so serene and at peace, despite long knowing of his affiliation with the Abyss.
His boots are settled beside him, his legs swinging over the cliff. Mirroring his actions, Venti shucks off his own pairs as well.
If there was a beach right below the cliff, where the waves crest against the jagged rock, it’d make a mesmerizing scene.
Aether’s as golden as ever, and with the sun setting, the warm tones of his hair and golden accessories are only accentuated, his black clothing serving to only cater his eyes further to the prince’s bright colors.
When Venti approaches him, gaining his attention, his breath almost stops. He can never forget his almost doe eyes that only looked at him, gold and timeless as they are, seeing through countless things he cannot even imagine.
He sees the teal color of Anemo flicker to life on his clothing, no longer the neutral white that adorns his features.
“Oh, you’re playing dirty,” is the first thing he says with a hearty laugh.
“Anything to recruit you to my heretical cult of rebels,” Aether jokes, patting the grass next to him and Venti happily takes the seat.
The wind blows as it pleases at a height like Starsnatch Cliff, blowing strongly like how the flourishing Cecilia liked it.
There’s a satisfying mundaneness to them just sitting here, barefoot, watching the beach across from them. The tides of the ocean’s waves sluggishly rush over the beach.
He’d like to say it’s old mortals’ logic, or by extension, Morax’s terribly long winded soliloquies of the past and his hobbies that can basically sum up the life of a retiree when he hasn’t even stepped down yet, but he wasn't about to jinx it-
Still, Aether appears to feel the same. Or perhaps, he’s just glad to see the sunset after spending so much time with his people underground, planning their next step of attack.
Tranquil the moment was to feel the wind brush by his face, the warmth beside him when he needs it.
Venti finds himself speaking up first. “I’m still mad at you for delaying Dvalin’s recovery,” he says, then in a quiet voice, reluctantly admitting, “Even though you were right.”
Aether’s smile is not a triumphant one, but he can see the victory lit in his gaze. “Let the curse fester to its fullest, and cut it off at the root.”
“For if you act too hastily, your efforts will all be moot,” Venti interrupts, finishing the sentence for him, eliciting a somber laugh from the both of them. “Either way, Dvalin would not have had a great time. So I’m glad it’s over with, and he’s no longer bound to his duty.”
He misses the dragon already, who was probably sky high in the clouds, flying freely in a way that he hadn’t been able to for so long.
Venti looks at his palms. If he looks deep enough, he can start to feel cracks from underneath. It makes him stifle a sigh that comes across as a shudder on his part.
“When are you leaving?” Venti inquires, his lips threatening to spill over with so many things to say.
“In a few days,” Aether replies, unaware of the conflict that crosses his face. “If anything, I’ll try to drop by for Ludi Harpastum.”
“Ludi, huh,” Venti says, still focused on his hands. “What, still sulking that you didn’t get picked as Windblume Star the last time you attended?”
Aether grumbles. “Not the reason that I’m skipping...I told you to forget about that...Barbatos?” he asks, noticing Venti spacing out again, calling his name for once, the name on his tongue is a treat to be relished.
“I dreamt of you today,” Venti blurts. “Right after I got my gnosis taken. I dreamt of traveling with you.”
“Oh,” gasps Aether. It’s small, but it’s something. “You remember that goal.” His smile is blinding. “I didn’t forget either.”
Some time dated centuries ago, when the world was still healing from the sea of flames that engulfed Mondstadt, they had sat on this same cliff amidst a sea of Cecilias, wishing upon the stars for a day they could travel together.
(Cecilias may have dwindled and flourished throughout various periods, but they never experienced any type of disaster that would endanger them.
Only by uprooting them would they surrender.)
There was this one night where they’d try things that his people currently believed in, such as believing Starsnatch cliff was a place of good luck. As funny and odd as it seemed, this place remained a constant for lovebirds to flock to for a secret meeting; not so secret anymore after everyone knew about it, but they all knew better than to trash the party by declaring it out loud.
Despite its shifty origin that only Venti knows, Starsnatch Cliff remains a constant, a place that garnered much attention from his people more than necessary.
Venti smiles at the memory, turning to the future, something he rarely does. Maybe it’s because he’s lived through more yesterdays than tomorrows at this point. “I wonder if I’ll be able to live through everything that comes so I can travel.”
“You can.” Aether’s hand gently trails along the side of his face, making Venti lean into his cold knuckles, feeling the back of his eyelids droop in order to fully focus on his touches. “If you’d let me.”
“Mm,” he agrees quietly, turning the prince’s hand so his palms are covering his cheek. Rougher than he remembers them to be, they are still so warm and welcoming.
The air grows almost static as the words whoosh through his ears. “I want to get to know you again.”
Venti nips the inside of the blond’s palm, eyeing him teasingly. “And if I choose to go against your plans?”
“I’d let you, just like my sister interrupting mine,” Aether laughs, eyeing him with a knowing look. “But you have no reason to, don’t you?”
He bites his lips. He doesn’t.
“I’ve never stopped loving Mondstadt. But the moment I stop playing, having to step off the podium with my lyre...I...grow weary of the world around me.”
Aether patiently watches him search for words to say.
“I just want to rest,” his voice cracks. Venti feels the prince’s hand clasp his shoulders gently. The back of his hair rises as unbridled emotions burst from his chest, finally free from the restraints he had put during his time as an archon.
“After this is all over, we can rest, together.” Aether whispers, his voice as pained as him, a reassuring, gentle promise. He knows better than to lie, and yet-
He feels his throat go dry.
“You won’t abandon me?” The voice is pathetically small, it makes his limbs and body numb all over. Aether shakes his head, it doesn’t do anything to fill the hole he dug for himself, making him feel so small and vulnerable.
It opened up a multitude of old memories, revealing to him the only one that time has left him wearing away through the years, but never coming to claim his soul.
He’s a spirit born from the wind who trickled through the eras, watching the rise and fall of many, the steady growth and prosperity of his people, but never truly part of anything because time never waits for him; perhaps this was similar to what Aether felt before-traveling from world to world must have grown tiring at some point, and with your only kin taken away, it was like the entire world around you had collapsed.
Well, they can suck that. If Aether can do it, so can Venti, and he gets to decide what he’s part of from now on.
“You won’t leave me behind?” He shakes again, this time bringing him close, wiping away the gap between them again.
“Never.”
His words ring to him as absolute and final. Like a heavyweight that finally reaches the bottom of what felt like an endless chasm, Venti collapses onto the prince, a full body shudder leaving him.
He finally lets himself fall, knowing full well Aether is there to catch him.
“You’ve saved me from certain death so many times when I first woke up.” Aether strokes his back gently, his voice cracking a little. “So let me finally return the favor, Barbatos.”
Venti can’t hear him over the noise of his sobs that needed to be released centuries ago.
In front of them, the brilliant orange sun sets. Aether watches the colors of twilight begin to spread, permeating the coming night with its large families of stars he knows like the back of his hand, glittering white in the purple and pink inked sky.
Twilight, he stares at the sky, speechless of how beautiful it was...
Aether thinks of twilight as he looks at Venti, curled into his lap. Magenta would suit him just as nicely as teal, though he wished that color didn’t come at the price of corruption.
Venti wakes up on his side to silk sheets and the sensation of someone combing through his hair. He purrs into the feeling, opening his eyes to see a star struck blond watching him with a large dopey smile strung on his face.
“Ow,” Venti let out a hiss as he tries to move. It’s not just...the aftermath of last night, but his chest stings.
He instinctively curls into himself as Aether helps him try to sit up.
“It’s starting.” Some flecks of his anemo tattoo dim out, replacing his skin with a purple tint. If he knew any less, it would make a nice color change, to be honest.
“Ah!” Venti shouts as Aether dives down to kiss it, and immediately, the purple tint turns a touch lighter, eventually fading away.
His shock delves into a series of high pitched laughs as Aether’s mouth blows raspberries on his stomach after marking the spots where the purple begins to fester.
It’s supposed to be a sad moment, drab and depressing even, but an idea pings into his mind that he cannot ignore.
“Aether,” Venti stifles a shameless moan when the blond does more than just nip at his purple marks.
“Hm?” His voice reverberates against his skin. It’s nice-not just the vibration of his voice, of course, but he’s playing as if today will be another normal day for them. Nonchalance at its finest.
“Can you call me Venti?”
“Relinquishing your archon title already?”
“Kind of. But you always call me Barbatos, so it made me wonder how Venti would sound,” he explains, ruffling his soft golden locks to an even messier state.
Venti wriggles his eyebrow suggestively. “You could try, I don’t know, say my name every time these purple things pop up…”
And Aether does it with no complaint, no questions asked. “Venti, Venti,” Aether kisses his stomach each time he utters his name, spoiling him as he wanted.
There was only one small part of his tattoo that glowed purple, but he kept doing it anyway because Venti liked it.
Venti wordlessly lets him continue, breath occasionally hitching when Aether reaches a particularly sensitive spot, laughing when he goes off track.
It’s only the two of them in this small world.
What a wonderful morning this was.
Letting parts of Aether’s power fuse, no, purify, with his body won’t solve the underlying issue, the perpetrator, time, is finally beginning to wear him down, but it pushes the inevitable away until Aether’s finished with what he needs to get done.
(He briefly blinks to the thought of Morax’s erosion, wondering when his time will come.)
He does not know when he’ll start forgetting even the things that matter or accidentally twist his view of the world. Maybe he’s already forgotten something important, like how he panicked some time back after forgetting the stars Aether told him of. Tiny bits of these that don’t usually matter suddenly inflate in faux importance to occupy his weary mind.
Until then, he’ll continue roaming the streets of his nation, delivering songs of joy and laughter to his people, because they also curb the effects a little. Mond may not need him anymore, able to stand on her feet, but Venti needs them now.
His role is already done when he handed over the gnosis, now free to a life of joy and song. Singing and bothering Aether seemed like the perfect way to spend the rest of his days.
Aether constantly makes him forget the one thing he worries about. Venti relishes the joy of being seen.
He tells him loud and clear: I’m here.