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They're at it again.
The Ragnvindr heiress and the Alberich kid, arguing right at the center of Mondstadt's market district where everyone can see. During the busiest hours of your day, too, when you’re supposed to be lining up your pockets with spare coins from customers looking for knick-nacks to bring home.
But instead, what you get is a pair of empty pockets and a line of customers getting their ears filled with the latest gossip; an unwanted front row seat to a repetitive, cyclical drama between two well-known nobles.
“Why are you angry at me?” asks the heiress, both hands on her hips as she puffs out her chest; her red hair looking unruly on its ends.
The Alberich kid, tense in his posture and teeth almost gritted in a snarl, angrily replies, “I’m not angry with you!”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The theatrics between the two is so flawless that you almost forget that both are members of the Knights, highly appraised within the Order despite being squires in training. You’ve heard stories of their accomplishment in the field from veteran knights who visit your shop: Ragnvindr being a master of the sword and the claymore, seemingly effortless in her control over the Vision granted to her by the War Goddess of Natlan; while Alberich shows signs of becoming a promising tactician, a wise strategist, unique in his ability to carry and parry with the sword.
If these individuals are so accomplished, you think, why do they always bring their fights in public ? And right in front of your shop, no less?
Ragnvindr sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t get what I did wrong. It was just a measly fall. And I turned up fine, didn’t I?”
“You mean a fall from a cliff? Yeah, sure, if you were a cat,” Alberich says, sarcasm laced in his voice. “And last time I checked you only have one life.”
Though you have to admit, as annoyed as you are right now, that you do find their bickering to be funny, at first. A pair of nobles squabbling like commonfolk children is a rare sight to see — and an entertaining one, too, no matter what the fight is all about. In some ways, their bickering makes you feel relieved, somewhat humbled even, because it just goes to show that nobles act like the common folk, sometimes.
But now?
“Can we just forget it? I don’t see the point of making a big deal about this,” Ragnvindr huffs out.
Alberich scowls at her. "I would. Gladly. If that wasn’t such a bold display of recklessness."
You just want to do your business in peace.
In front of you, a pair of ladies giggle at each other, clearly amused from the squabbling a few steps behind them. They came to your shop to buy a hair accessory for their granddaughter’s upcoming birthday. But, like the others, they have been standing idly in front of your stall for an hour now, listening to the gossip and entertainmen t.
The lady with grayish blonde curls and an easy smile glances over her shoulder and leans towards her partner, whispering: “They’re both so obvious, aren’t they?”
Her partner glances over her shoulder then rolls her eyes. She picks a hairpin from the assortment on display, and you resist the urge to say Finally! “Oh, shush, you. They’re trying their best.”
The lady scoffs, pointing her chin up in the air. “They both have a long way ahead of them if they want her father’s permission in marriage.”
“Marriage, already?” The other lady says, handing you her chosen hairpin for payment. “Can’t they date first?”
No, they should first learn to deal with personal affairs in private, you want to say . But who wants to listen to a vendor anyway?
They leave your stall just in time for you to witness the frustration on Alberich’s face, his foot stomping on the ground, as he shouts, “Gods, you’re so stubborn!”
It doesn’t ease his frustration when Ragnvindr only responds with a blow of a breath, fanning a strand of hair from her face. “And you’re so annoying.”
You can see the point where Alberich just wants to say his thoughts out loud, but changes his mind in the last second, closing his mouth as soon as he opens it. And after a long pause, possibly to calm himself down, he speaks again. “ Is this the only way you’re able to respond to legitimate concerns? With personal jabs?”
Ragnvindr crosses her arms in obvious frustration. “ You started it! And if we’re speaking about concerns at work,” she then turns her head away. “Maybe you should stop being such a worrywart and actually focus on the missions, for once.”
You know that Alberich doesn’t take too kindly to those words. He never does, you notice, when it’s a personal jab to his abilities. Or when he’s riled up like this, which, for some reason, only Ragnvindr is capable of doing. Alberich shakes his head, almost like in disbelief, and glances at the sky, as if he is shooting out a prayer. Goosebumps are running across your skin.
“Look at the pot who’s calling the kettle black,” he starts, voice now louder, more honest. It feels like whatever filter that’s been holding back his thoughts is now gone, thrown away into the deep end. “Let me remind you who has to help you when reaching for things, yeah? You? You have to use a stool.”
Ragnvindr lets out an audible gasp. The blush on her cheeks looks as red as her hair that they’re almost indistinguishable from each other. You can tell she is trying to look intimidating, but fails, when she says in a shaky voice, "You — You take that back!"
But Alberich never will, he never does. And you know he isn’t even done yet after watching this same scene unfold so many times. You can already guess what comes next: the crux of the argument, the melting point of it all. The final nail to cement Alberich’s win over this battle of words, but also to his coffin.
"I pray to Lord Barbatos that you grow an inch this year because certainly, your heels don’t need anymore."
And then there's silence. Neither of them talks; while the vendors and the customers await or the next words with bated breaths. Even the winds that flow through Mondstadt in a whistling tune come to a halt, as if Lord Barbatos is listening, now stupefied. You hear a scandalized gasp, and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s from you. You're stunned.
But nothing probably beats what Ragnvindr is feeling now, as she’s petrified on her feet, mouth agape in a mix of astonishment and indignation. She looks even redder now if that had been any more possible, and you’re starting to doubt that she’s even breathing. In her shock, Alberich starts to look a bit apologetic, but still chooses to stand his ground; towering a foot taller over her like the lanky teenager that he is, nostrils flared and single eye focused, anticipating what she’s about to do next. You’re anticipating, too.
Then before anyone knows it, Alberich is now bent towards her, his face trapped right in her bosom; his hands flailing around him as she keeps him in place. You hear the Alberich’s loud but muffled screams from her chest all while Ragnvindr keeps shouting from the top of her lungs, “Take it back! Take it back!” And the surprised stare of the crowd turns quickly to one of concern.
It takes you some time before you’re able to convince Ragnvindr to let go of the boy. And when she finally does release him, she storms off, probably to go somewhere to cool down, her frazzled hair trailing behind her. Alberich looks red-faced and shocked when he is freed, and your first thought is that it might probably be due to the attempted suffocation. But the redness does not recede even when he sits down at Good Hunter’s to take a breath. And when you turn to look at him, you see this interesting expression on his face — awe and horror and confusion rolled into one — before he plants his hands on his face.
You let them both be.
xxx
But just as you think that it’s all over, Alberich approaches your stall.
It’s actually closing time for your stall, just like every other stall in this district, but you let Alberich stand there anyway — the least that you can do for what happened today. But you’re not sure what he is here for until he picks an item from the assortments on display: a blue ribbon with a red gem at the center, elegant in its simplicity. And now you realize what he’s intending to do.
“How much?” the kid asks, briefly making eye contact with you.
You shake your head and tell him it’s free. An after-hour discount, you explain, since you’re supposed to close shop at this hour of the day. It’s a poor excuse and completely unfounded, but he accepts it anyway, giving you a sheepish smile as you hand him his purchase. You want to bid him good luck but you hold your tongue.
And though you know you’ll be walking home in the dark after this, you still choose to linger for a bit while longer, watching over Alberich as he walks straight ahead to where Ragnvindr is standing idly by. She appears calmer now although she looks a little red. When she sees Alberich, she tenses up.
Alberich is tense, too, when he approaches her. “I got you a new ribbon,” the Alberich kid says as he hands over the paper bag to Ragnvindr. “To replace the one that you lost today.”
“Oh,” Ragnvindr says, sounding genuinely surprised. She opens the seal and brings out the ribbon from the paper bag with careful fingers. You can see the exact moment when her red eyes light up . “It’s beautiful.”
Alberich smiles in obvious relief. “I’m glad you like it. I know you always liked the color blue so I got this one for you,” Then he pauses, takes a deep breath, and looks at her in the eyes. She looks at him right back.
“I — “ he starts but is suddenly cut off when Ragnvindr shakes her head.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize,” she says, bringing the gift close to her chest. “You were right. I was reckless and I didn’t know what I was thinking. If you hadn’t pulled me in time, I would probably have broken bones right now. And the things I said about you were completely out of line and untrue. I was just...angry.”
“I was angry, too,” Alberich admits, stepping a foot closer. “I also said some things that were completely out of the line —” Ragnvindr snorts at that. “— but I was worried. I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you charging into battle all alone,” then he glances at the red gem hanging by her waist. “Even if the gods are by your side.”
“I know. I’ll be more careful in the future, I promise.”
“ You better. Cause I don’t think my heart can take it seeing you do something as dangerous as that ever again,” Alberich lets out a chuckle. “So,” he drawls out, earning a raised eyebrow from Ragnvindr. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
Ragvindr glares at him, unimpressed . “It should be the other way around, idiot. I’m the one apologizing here.”
“Well, keep calling me that and I might not do that,” Alberich says, his eye twinkling in mirth. His smile grows even wider as he asks, “Can I have a hug then?”
Ragnvindr rolls her eyes in exasperation but opens her arms anyway. “Come here.”
Alberich doesn’t wait and surges forward, hauling her right into his arms and bringing her close to his chest. Her feet dangle from the ground as he does so, which causes her to give out a yelp and chastise him from being so rough. But even then, Alberich looks like he’s enjoying himself, blissful even, like a lost man who’s finally found his way home.
They’re at it again, years later.
The Ragnvindr heiress and the Alberich kid — oh, wait, they’re not anymore, are they? They’re fully grown adults now, one a knight and the other in a different calling, conjoined together under the same last name, a combination of two mouthful words that you can’t be bothered to pronounce. But even with these changes, some painful to see, you feel strangely relieved that these two have somewhat retained their childish nature, deep inside.
“Are you still angry at me?” Sir Kaeya asks. He’s not some lanky teenager anymore, now the Cavalry Captain, the Quartermaster. Mondstadt’s pride and beloved. A Ragnvindr.
Mistress Diluc sighs. She has grown past her temperamental nature and fully blossomed into the mature and elegant Head of the Dawn Winery, one of the most influential businesses in all of Teyvat. Now, an Alberich. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Sir Kaeya scratches his head and flashes a sheepish grin. “That’s like setting me up to sleep on the couch, or something.”
Mistress Diluc taps a finger next to her lips. “I’ll give you a clue — it’s about that clearing operation near the Winery and how you almost got knocked off a cliff by a Mitachurl.”
“Aw, come on. That was just one time. And I managed to evade it, didn’t I?”
In front of you, a customer audibly swoons, glancing at the couple over her shoulder. The hairpin from her hair reminds you of the lovely elderly couple that used to visit your stall. “Ah, to be young and in love,” she whispers to herself.
They’ve come very far, those two, and they deserve every bit of love and happiness that they have in their lives right now.
When things escalate and the Captain is buried in those pair of bosoms, you don’t try to stop them, not anymore. Not when Mistress Diluc holds Kaeya like some sort of treasure, the way she held his gift from several years ago, the same sworn-out blue ribbon that’s tying her hair right now and all the years past since her return. Not when Sir Kaeya’s laughter is obvious despite his muffled voice; the redness of the tip of his ears comes from a different reason entirely.
You shake your head and silently laugh to yourself. As much as you hate to admit it now, you’ve always found their bickering to be quite funny.