Archive of Our Own

5

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The crunching of snow and howling of wind didn’t seem to apeace the angry spirit behind Albedo, while they walk through beautiful snow blanketed lands at night. As he takes a discreet look back, taking a turn around the corner of mountainous rocks towards his workshop in Dragonspine, he feels the ghostly press of fangs on his back. She wasn’t even looking at him. Albedo sighs. The short walk from the treasure hoarder camp where he “saw” Rosaria “by chance” so far had been uneventful. Neither of them bothered to talk after calling out each other, dodging questions, redirecting them, trying to convince the other, and then the growing wind forcing both to go to shelter.    

Perhaps she’s upset because she got injured? Or because I saw her and I forced her to come with me.  

Albedo was never good at social situations, but like always, his mind was caught on a new subject to explore, and some hypotheses to test. The thought of discovering and unearthing something from this person’s current thoughts.... He decides that tonight’s research agenda would be focused on this prickly, sharp cold nun. 

Well , he thinks, catching sight of her leg and hidden arm, after her injuries are dealt with. 

The wind howls a bit louder as the familiar light of Albedo’s workshop comes close from afar, he instinctively tries to pull his coat closer around himself, only to realize he gave it to her. He looks back again and breaks the silence for the first time between the rustling winds. “The workshop is almost near, let’s hurry before it gets stronger.”

---

Albedo touches the doorframe with his Geo energy, and gold intricacies light up the wood into a four-petalled flower. It disperses into elemental particles from the door, catching the woman’s attention into the air. Even more light particles fill her sight as small floral designs manifest onto the rest of the walls and disperse into the air, giving a glow around them in the white night until it shortly disappears. She takes a breath and closes her eyes, a sense of comfort and reminiscence. Albedo opens the door. 

The workshop had no special heating source, but his joints definitely felt more loose after he stepped in. Albedo sets down the items he collected on a spare table in the corner, powering the lights with Geo energy once again in the night. They were finally in a safe and equipped warm place. The Kreideprinz was no doctor, but he immediately gets to work. 

“Please quickly change into wa—” He hears the quiet click of a door, and sees the room to his far right locked, and his coat jacket hanging on one of the chairs. The quiet, elusive nun still seems to be faster. Albedo nods to the air, and sets off to prepare what he needs, relieved that Rosaria’s injuries didn’t seem to give her much trouble, despite having to walk through the cold night of the snowy mountain. Though, the occasional quiet gasps and the shifting and crunching of snow earlier didn’t escape him. He immediately heats a basin of water, careful not to make it too hot. He opens a cabinet in one of the open rooms where all the medical and safety supplies were located, Church and Knight’s issued of course, courtesy of two siblings who also insisted that he have basic knowledge and training. The alchemist collects all items in his arms and exits, passing by the heating water and placing them on the coffee table in the general area. He goes further in the workshop into his lab, undoing the seal he places every time he goes away from Dragonspine for some time. A quick scan of the room shows no difference than when he left it. He opens chests and containers, lightly dusting off the alchemy table, bringing out devices and glass bottles. Before he could start gathering the flower corollas, he hears a faint jostle in the other room. Albedo quickly maneuvers his way and investigates from the hallway. Rosaria was now changed into looser, casual clothes than her usual ones, gripping the edge of the couch with her left arm holding her right in a towel as she tries to breathe away the pain.

Albedo frowns. He keeps his silence but moves faster and urgently. 

- - -

Rosaria silently sits in the corner of the couch, surrounded by papers, ores and specimens, her right arm wrapped in a towel. She didn’t seem to be happy, but the change of clothes gave her a different sense of comfort even against the uncomfortable feeling and pricks of pain. Those treasure hoarders and bandits got her good, she scowls in memory of those potioneers and her carelessness. An exploding pyro cocktail landing at the side of her position, and when she tried to maneuver herself out of the way of a flying hammer, she was met with a mix of hydro and cryo bottles. The rush of ice she summoned in front of her managed to cover her at the last second but left the arm she used exposed.  

Albedo returns to his patient with a basin of warm water, extra towels and a tub of burn ointment. He places the basin on the small table beside the couch, and Rosaria starts to place her arm in it, slowly. 

With her stockings and bootheels out of the way, Albedo could now see the extent of the burns. It wasn’t as bad as he feared, her clothes reducing the damage on her, but it affected a long stretch of her leg, almost her whole calf and near the knee.  

He kneels in front of her and starts to twists the cap of the ointment.

Pak! 

Albedo looks up to a glaring Rosaria with her hand on his wrist. He remains half-surprised but unfazed.  

“You only have one arm.” He states, his eyes darting to where her left forearm and elbow was submerged in warm water. 

“I can do it efficiently myself.”

“Your angle and positioning will make it hard for you to do so.” 

“I can help myself, Albedo, and you know I heal fast.”

“Just because you heal fast doesn’t mean you can do a half-assed treatment of it.”

Before Rosaria could react to his statement, he gives an offer. “I’ll let you put the cooling ointment, only.” She passes a second of contemplation before lightly snatching the small circular tub from Albedo. He quickly disappears from her line of sight to retrieve more items. 

When he comes back with special bandages and the injury was now covered in the ointment, tries not to think about the length of her injury, instead being grateful that she was being cooperative and concentrates on wrapping it properly. 

While he quickly combines crushed mist flower corollas and crystal cores for her potion to regulate temperature, Rosaria still nurses her arm in the warm basin of water, shifting and lightly moving her now bandaged leg. She takes a moment, the ghost leather touches on her skin, Albedo’s back on her far side; and treads the silence. 

“I thought you were in Mondstadt.”

“And I thought you were in Liyue.” 

“My question first.”

Outside was quiet within the workshop. Only the mixing and waiting filled the space. Albedo concedes. 

“I was informed of a new plant that only glows at night in Dragonspine, so I took a few samples and made an in-depth sketch. I also took a few starsilver ores to restock. Then I saw you on the way back.” 

“You mean you caught sight of a fight while heading back, saw me, and sketched the battle until it was over and I called you out.”

He just shrugs, “Some things are only discovered through moving action and dynamic poses when you sketch them.”

Her mouth twitches, whether in amusement or disdain, or both, neither of them knows. 

“Now you.”

“Caught some information while going around in Liyue after the quest we did, got something about the beginnings of a collaboration between two groups. Set up in Dragonspine as base of operations, middle ground between two places. I headed back right away to investigate, the Traveller and the others stayed and continued in Liyue.”   

Albedo hums. “Heard anything else interesting while over there?”

Rosaria’s left hand twitched, and she opened her mouth. Her lips touch as she closes them, and answers Albedo, pursing them and looking into the distance.

“Nothing much, just heard a lot about the Geo Archon.” 

It was quiet once more for a while, until Albedo walked back to her with a potion in his hands. Rosaria vaguely remembers similar items flying towards her face. “This will help your body regulate temperature and go back to normal, and to balance out internal factors for your injuries.” She eyes it warily, just as she does with anything. The liquid was almost clear with a soft tinge of blue— or was it purple? She takes the potion, feeling the cool glass and drinks it. She lets it pass through her mouth and throat, as Albedo closely watches her reaction. It had a warm temperature, but the aftertaste was cool, and deduces that Albedo must’ve added mint and some other stuff to this potion. She gives a slow exhale, and hands the glass bottle back.  

As Albedo gently gets it from her, Rosaria loudly grunts uncomfortably. “What is….?” She tries to glare at the cunning alchemist, but the sudden cloudiness and pounding of her heart makes it hard to do so. She gasps as her mind swirls and the pounding continues, suddenly feeling clammy. Albedo now stands in front of her with a towel on one arm and more bandages on the other. “Side effects of the potion, don’t worry, it won’t take long.” Stating it as a matter of factly. He sets aside the basin and puts her wet arm in a towel. She hisses through her teeth, “....And you only told me this now?” Albedo flicks his eyes towards her, intentionally locking them for a moment, before starting to wrap her arm in the special heat bandages. 

“Who knows.”

“You got a death wish or something, huh?” She groans out the last word, her mind still swirling, hand clutching the cushion. He continues slowly rolling the bandage. “Just desperate measures to counter a fussy patient, Sister Rosaria.” Rosaria clicks her tongue, having been bested by the alchemist, but leaves it at that. She closes her eyes and continues breathing as the rest of the side effects go away, just like he said.

She doesn’t know how long it took when Rosaria hears Albedo moving around and walking away, presumably setting aside the items he used. A warm, snug feeling now on her arm. She peels her eyes open. 

Rosaria warily and suspiciously eyes his work. “How sure are you about the safety of those plants?”

“Go, take the bed.”  

When the sound of heels on wood doesn’t continue, he carries on with his words, still occupied with preliminary processing of the ores he got from earlier and putting them in boxes. “You’re injured, better for you to take the bed, I'll be on the couch.” 

There was a brief moment of silence, Albedo wondering if Rosaria would argue back. Then the soft clacking resumes, surprised at how easily she folded. 

The blue-eyed alchemist takes his time, gentle and meticulous in his work, while keeping an eye on the new specimen of plants. He finishes processing the ores, and moves them into two boxes, one to bring back to Mondstadt, and another to restock in the workshop. As he firmly closes each box, a quiet plop of items happen on his side. Albedo twists around to see a glimpse of a shadow turning round the corner, and back to see folded clothes on the table beside his work. He stares down into the table, and shifts in his position. 

Hmm, my clothes do feel a little damp from the snow.

- - -

It doesn't smell of winter snow and crystal flowers. 

She lies down in old, unused sheets, yet softer than the ones in their living spaces for the Church. With how frequent he comes to the workshop, Rosaria assumes she’d at least find a strain of his existence in this room. 

She only smells herself, the wine at the tavern, and the blood she willingly covers herself. She can't even smell the ointment Albedo gave her anymore underneath the suffocating everything about her. It's so strange, the alchemist wields Geo, an element of stability, existence, and concreteness, yet right now, in his bed that he owns, in the place where he spends his time in, Rosaria feels like she’s currently trying to grasp at ever changing winds for any sign of his existence. 

She hates this bed. 

More importantly, she hates the thoughts that have been creeping in her head, since overhearing the conversation she wasn’t supposed to grasp between the traveller and the former Geo Archon. Not that she cared about his status or identity, but she cared more about his story . She cared more about what happened, and what could happen in the future. It's always the same image, the same crawling feeling, the same blood, the same face. While hidden behind the large roots of the tree, they called it corruption and “erosion”. Albedo was no god nor elemental being nor archon, but it doesn’t mean his situation was any different. He better fucking keep that promise of his. 

Her hand twitches into a grip. Another image passes through her mind.

She hates this, and she hates this bed.

Rosaria closes her eyes. 

Stabbing Albedo can wait ‘til tomorrow.  

1

“Archons, you’re an embarrassment.”

“Uwah, Diluc is a big meanieee~ Dishh iss why kids don’t like youu.”

“Eula, I’m dropping him .”

“Master Diluc—” 

“Do it and watch him pass out!” Laughter erupts in the tavern as a regular red-haired patron shouts from the second floor. 

“Don’t worry Sir Kaeya, I’ll handle the morning reports to Master Jean for you.” 

“Nooooo…”

“Let’s just go, I'll open the door.” 

“Thank you. Alright, c’mon captain, let’s get you back before Gunnhildr sees you.”

After they wave from the second floor balcony, bidding goodbye to the three on their way out, the blue-eyed alchemist takes a sip. The ambiance of the tavern getting softer, the coolness of his drink through his throat, the charcoal stick held by his gloved hand, and the curious yet blank look of his remaining companion of the night. 

He exhales. 

“You’ve now got me alone and cornered. Will you interrogate me and drag my body out into the forest later?” 

Crimson cat eyes sharply flick to him, placing her hand down next to a cup, her claws making a soft sound against the tavern table. 

“Looks like Kaeya has been rubbing off on you. Playing your words like that. It's useless on me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Unlike him, I don’t use my words like that.” 

She gives a snort, taking a few gulps of her 7th drink before bringing it back down. Albedo continues sketching his drink, but still keeping his attention on her. With a lazy expression, she relaxes on the chair, examining her claws and flexing her hand. “I already have my quota of work done, I’m not looking to add overtime.” “Is that so?” He holds his sketchpad beside his drink, nodding to himself, a subject well-drawn and observed, before setting his items aside, taking small sips of his beverage. 

Rosaria’s eyes flick to him. “You didn’t strike me as someone who drinks.” He gives a sigh, his second drink of the night down his throat but the sigh was nothing refreshing. “On nights like these, the other captains,” Albedo subtly nudges his head towards the door where the two exited, “are very…. bent on their determination to get me to join them.” She gives an amused grunt at his statement, gesturing to his drink that Kaeya pushed him to get earlier after his first one. “Still,” Albedo continues, settling on the back of the chair, “I'm quite impressed by your ability to consume such amounts of alcohol without being inebriated. Although,” he gives a shrug, a small, small mischievous expression on him, “much could be said of a certain bard downstairs.” She gives a short dry laugh, “You could say that.” Her metal claws now hold her drink, shining with thin warning as she raises an eyebrow, not forgetting his first statement, gauging how he would react. “Planning to study and experiment on someone again?” He calmly shakes his head. “Oh no, no. Much like you, I am busy with work. The order the Acting Grandmaster recently gave us takes priority, my time to experiment on my own is already reduced.” Rosaria now had her drink before her lips, covering her mouth but the eyebrow was still there, her stare never wavering. Albedo smoothly raises his own drink, locking light turquoise with deep red, neither backing down nor hiding.

“But I wouldn’t lie, you are one of the most interesting people here in Mondstadt.” 

“Is that so?” She copies his words earlier. “But so are you.”

They both drink, sipping chosen amounts of alcohol into their mouths. 

I want to know who you are and what you are, and I will tear you piece by piece to get my answer.

But they both drop it for now, choosing to spend their night how they want to and in peace. 

They stay silent, listening to some patrons shuffling out of the tavern, the moving of furniture, alcohol-laced conversations and the last few minutes of music. Charles was now behind the counter, taking over and preparing for closing while Diluc is out on his own patrol after hauling Kaeya out with Eula, though they suspect that the Dawn Winery master only wanted to spend some short moments with the Spindrift Knight. 

Rosaria’s eyes slowly wander over to Albedo’s materials, and briefly on his hands as a thought comes to her mind, backed by recollections of him keen-eyed and focused. As well as own memories that never happened. “Got a few pages left to draw on?” Albedo blinks at the sudden question before glancing at his sketchbook. “I believe so, why?” The woman before him just gestures her hand, boredom on her face. “Ever drawn without a subject in mind?” Ah, he thinks. Not boredom, but a veil of curiosity under it, no matter what Albedo thinks of her…. interesting question. He makes a respectful face, “I find that hard to do, I sketch to study and observe, as well as to put something fleeting into memory. To do that without setting your mind on the subject would be…. counterproductive to say, for my objectives.” Rosaria just makes a humming sound as she shrugs, “Why not try it? Surely your skills would still be enough to make something good.” She gives a small yawn. “Like how some actions that require skill, after doing it for so long you don’t have to think about it anymore.” Albedo nods, going through her words in his mind, as he summons out his Geo-infused charcoal stick, “Is that how it is for you?” “Sometimes, for small fry and small matters.” The alchemist nods again as he settles in his seat, his sketchpad on his other hand. “I suppose this would make as a good exercise and experiment for me.” 

He stretches his arm and wrist, closing his eyes to clear his mind and let his hand move. It takes him a while before he could finally start moving his hand without a subject in mind. Once he gets the hang of it, he opens his eyes to check what he was drawing and continues, staring plainly into the air and occasionally glancing down. He continues sketching, a slightly abstract form of a somewhat familiar face making itself known. As Charles calls out closing time, only then does he realize he had been staring towards Rosaria, who had been observing the way he draws, finishing the last of her glass. Albedo blinks, looking down on his sketch. “Seems like you actually managed to sketch something, huh.” He almost breaks his charcoal as he recognizes what he drew.     

As he packs his things, and bids farewell to the elusive nun who disappears into the shadows of the cold season, his mind stays on his sketch. How this mysterious and sharp woman unconsciously reminded him of his master, Rhinedottir, he was hoping to find out. He leaves Angel’s Share with a smile.

2 

One month. 

It had been one month since then. 

Their meetings have now been farther and fewer in between. Purposefully and unpurposefully. By man and by fate. 

The Traveller had returned back to Liyue for a long visit. The Acting Grandmaster had asked Rosaria to continue her job and stay vigilant, now that the Honorary Knight wasn’t present again. Not that Mondstadt’s Purveyor of Justice herself was lacking, but she wouldn’t deny it. Her workload becomes a tad lighter when the Traveller was around, but of course, not her workload in regards to the outlander themselves. Rosaria wouldn’t also deny that Church rites and preparations were recently becoming more of a hindrance than her regular night work.

Windblume was coming up in a month, and things were bound to get even busier as it nears. Windblume. The festival of love, flowers and happiness. When Mondstadt comes to life with roaring brightness. She will investigate and dispose of any threats to that warm brightness just to keep it the way it is. She did it before and would not hesitate to do it again. Even if said threat was a beloved citizen. 

A loud high pitched voice brings her focus back from where she was on the plaza, a young girl pulling her brother from the headquarters and dragging him with her. She overhears the words, “busy,” “lunch,” “fish,” “play,” and “big brother” as they go down the stairs into the town square. She grips her arms and grits her teeth. ….Even if it was a beloved citizen. 

Albedo was swamped with work he wasn’t familiar with. Before, when Master Jean gave him the idea and project, he was swamped with research and testing. Catching wind of the Traveller’s new sword, the Master of the Knights ordered Albedo with a new project: a new line of enhanced weapons that could exceed the current standard given Favonius Weapons, and cater more to non-Vision wielding Knights. Weapons imbued with power and alchemy. This was one major work that had the alchemy team stumped, and poured each day into research, hypothesis making, resource gathering, communication with local blacksmiths and small scale trials on simple items. Albedo couldn’t say no to Jean when she gave the proposal, for the chance of exploration and discovery of knowledge and application was greater than their current limits.   

Now, the physical workload was getting more to him than the mental work. Large-scale testing with different enhancements for each type of weapon, getting fellow Knights to try them out, record results and suggestions, then analysis. Rinse and repeat. The blacksmiths were also churning out prototypes that could hold and channel the enhancements as much as they could. 

On stumped, uneventful days, when Albedo’s mind wanders more strongly from all the time he kept it focused on their timed project, he goes to his next more important project. After that night in Angel’s Share, Albedo disappeared and locked himself busy, leaving the alchemy team without a ferryman on those days. Three days later, he resurfaced with strange satisfaction and confidence, and resumed on the weapon work with the rest of the team.

He’d go out on the roof of their headquarters, or take a walk on the wall of the city during sundown and night, cradling two devices of his own making in his hands. One tracking Cryo Visions within the city, and another, a sensor on each gate of Mondstadt.

Other times he’d find himself in front of his sketchpad, his hand moving without so much instruction from his mind. Just trying to replicate his memory of her features onto the canvas, each sketch getting more detailed than the last, but he wasn’t confident about the accuracy. Lesser times, he’d find her in Angel’s Share, or on the rooftops, or on the walls, either smoking or sharpening her knives. He’d stay there and sketch as much as he could, refreshing his memory of each feature, even just from a far. These were the times when he could see Rhinedottir in her, for some reason. Not when he’s dragging his charcoal stick over the canvas with no basis but his memory, but when she’s there, when Albedo commits to every feature, every action she does, every movement. He continues to wonder why, but keeps small unconscious conjectures to himself. 

He didn’t mind if Rosaria noticed him every time, what was there for her to discover anyway? That he liked sketching? Old news. Albedo knows she thinks the same, not bothering to hide herself or to shoo him away whenever he’s near, inside and outside of Mondstadt. What was there for Albedo to discover too anyway? New ways of interrogating and disposing of enemies probaby, or how to disappear from persistent nuns and other people, perhaps. His constant stay in headquarters for work might have given Rosaria a bit of trouble, but knowing her, she had her ways.

With them making progress on the weapons, he couldn’t afford disappearing for long periods of time from the Knights. Much to his disappointment, following Mondstadt’s elusive nun on her night runs as often as he can. Or visiting the snowy mountain and his workshop.   

The next time Albedo set out, the investigation team was set out towards the edge of the borders of Mondstadt, near a long abandoned village, where rumors and stories from his subordinates tickled his ears. A long and old story, myth, or legend, however you believe it to be. A village ransacked by bandits, a small village of special people who were fundamentally the same with others, except abilities and actions only possible, only caused by their special blood and their ability to consume blood. Everyone there was said to have been killed, no one and nothing to verify nor deny. He orders a break of activities, and sets out to the village by himself. There was nothing but ruin and old wood, as expected. Albedo lets himself be drawn to the remaining life in the area, contemplating beauty in the midst of wreck, isolation, and time. A few bushes of roses and stalks of mist flowers softly swaying in the wind. He turns around to go back, wondering if he had been gone for too long.

Two months. 

It was Windblume, a festival they had no plan to participate in, but enjoyed in their own ways. 

Rosaria was asked to stay within the city for added defense, which she understood and complied with. However that meant avoiding Sister Victoria and the others, picking up after lost and naive souls, and directing overly excited people on what not to do. Still, Windblume meant that Mondstadt was at one of its brightest, warmest, and most beautiful times. She gives her thanks to the people as flowers fly upwards on where she was on the rooftops.

The weapons were looking to be successful, and left them with the blacksmiths to do their craft. They all took a break on the project for them to enjoy the festivities, and Albedo left to visit Dragonspine. He wandered around, armed with his sword, and his sketchpad. He went to check on his workshop, noting everything is as when he left it, and took an inventory check. His eyes caught sight of the bottle that previously contained Durin’s life essence, before his body absorbed it. It had been quite a while since he tested out his new powers…. 

His eyes stray towards the window on his right, towards Wyrmrest Valley. For a moment, he feels excitement. 

He continues wandering around, taking the long way until he reaches the valley. He takes his time walking towards the dark, red cavern, a familiar hum of warmth through his body. The cavern seems to glow even more with familiarity and welcome, calm energy stirring in the place. Albedo stops in front of the heart, dull power and sensation quietly rising within him, and raises his hand towards it. His fingertips breaches into the glowing mass of strange texture and powers, and pushes his hand in until his wrist. He breathes, and the dull energy within him brightens. Durin is awake.          

His senses are heightened to the distant heavy footsteps in the back, but only passes through his mind subconsciously. He hears menacing voices behind him, but doesn’t comprehend the words. Albedo keeps breathing, taming and controlling the rising power in him, filtering out the heavy, dark matter from entering his body. There was a loud and sharp echo of a bullet hitting the cavern walls, Albedo releases his hand from the glowing heart, and opens his eyes. 

“What in the name of--?”

He turns around and regards the enemies, his back suddenly feeling heavy, and yet he was light and brimming with energy. Fatui, 5 of them, but why do they look like that? Albedo rolls his shoulder, readying himself until he stops, realizing the heaviness of his back and the faces of the enemies. The wings had manifested, and far larger than any of the times he experimented with his power. The Kreideprinz gives a light huff, his enemies readying themselves.

Experiment number 5, first testing. 

He takes a step into a jump. 

Begin.

At the end of the ordeal, when Albedo pants into the warm room yet frigid air, when the remnants of violence get blown away by the wind, he considers the testing as a success. The horn on his head fading away, and the wings on his back shrinking, before slowly doing the same. Warm power within him rests and sleeps, content.

He looks down on a red glowing sharp object near his foot. It was tough, shaped like a large fang, with an unusual texture to it, if he had to guess, it was a dragontooth. As to why it was glowing red, Albedo didn’t need to wonder. His mind drifts back to the camp at the foot of the mountain, where Orban usually works. As he steps out of the cavern with samples in his pocket, he hopes the weaponsmith still has that blueprint he mentioned before to him.

3 

For Rosaria, it starts with a brewing rumor. 

For Albedo, it happens when the mechanical orb in his pocket starts pulsing with Geo. 

It ends with a surprised assassin nun holding someone’s arm to her bloodied mouth, and a panting perplexed alchemist with glowing veined wings on his back.

The Favonius alchemists were tidying up the laboratory late in the night, reports and papers to be set aside, glassware, instruments and weapons to be cleaned and stored. As Albedo holds books, papers and reports to be further analyzed the next day, his pocket glows from within his coat. Alarmingly so. Sucrose, who was just about to turn around with clean glass in her arms, takes a double take. “Mister Albedo?” With his back to her, Sucrose moves around close to ask, but when she saw the look on the chief alchemist’s eyes, she suddenly feared asking. “N- nothing Sucrose,” Albedo quickly frees a hand and reaches into his pocket, and the light dims with a soft clasp. He drops the books down on the nearest table. 

“I just need to take a quick trip to the workshop.” 

“T— to Dragonspine?!” 

His assistant alchemist gawks, almost fumbling with the glass items. “This late at night?” He ignores her in favor of going to his desk and picking up  personal items. His hand quickly swipes down to the inner leg of his desk. He presses onto a switch, and a small hidden square device hidden in the hinges of the door and the windows softly start to glow. Just to be sure. “Please continue cleaning up without me but don’t take too long.” Albedo quickly reaches the door with a flustered and blubbering Sucrose behind him. “You may go back to your quarters right after. I’ll see you and the rest tomorrow.” Before he closes the door, he gets an afterthought. “Or if not, you may find me at camp if you need me.” He feels bad for leaving his assistant like that, but he knows Sucrose nonetheless got his instructions when he hears an “O- ok! See you tomorrow….?” He begins rushing out of the headquarters, careful not to alarm the remaining people outside, and hopes to the archons nothing will happen. 

He almost collapses into the lush green fields of Windrise from sudden exertion of power, and inwardly curses how far the mountain was. I’m not going to make it. Immediately, he thinks of counter plans if he doesn’t reach the workshop, or worse, if whoever it is that broke into his workshop—

The mechanical orb pulses and glows again, violently so. 

He grits his teeth.

They’ve broken into the seal that holds my experiment. 

His eyes raise towards the mountain.

Durin’s life power.

He needn’t spare another thought to comprehend the dangers of the situation.

As he catches his breath, he evaluates the road. Following the regular path would take too much time, same goes for going around the cliffs and probably encountering some enemies even if he had a cart or a horse. Climbing said cliffs, even with his isotoma to help him, would also take too much time. His isotoma could only elevate him so much, and cliffs around weren’t the most friendly to climb. Mondstadt was a jagged, jarring piece of landscape, and the road towards the snowy mountain was exactly that. Archons! He lightly growls under his breath. The security mechanisms were supposed to be enough to counter any ambitious low-life scum. He installed them days after he and Orban started working on the spear, and the number of items related to Durin were increasing in his workshop. They were powered by his own capabilities and attached to the mechanical orb and when the entry alarms go off, the Geo energy powering both releases into the orb. The two mechanisms were supposed to stall the actions of whoever was entering, and give time for Albedo to catch up. But the second mechanism, the seal to this particular experiment, was supposed to be the most secure out of his lab, and the best seal that Albedo could make. He looks over to the city, breath evening out and scanning the walled city of his current home. With the distance and his top speed, it must have taken him between one minute and a half to two minutes from the second he left the lab to where he is right now. Meaning…

Two minutes between both seals? 

He scoffs.

Fatui. 

The need to get there immediately grows even more.

Like a soft reminder, a gentle guidance, he feels the wind blow and ruffle his curls. He looks towards the direction of the wind and sees Venessa’s tree. The flowing of his coat reminds him of the crystals he keeps in his pockets, and sucks in a breath, moving towards the large tree.

Worth a try.   

High up in the mountain, the moon manages to shine through thick fog and mist in Dragonspine, and red eyes shine down. Rosaria had managed to catch wind of a group of treasure hoarders planning to steal something valuable and dangerous in the mountain. By the time she caught up to a cottage she recognizes as Albedo’s workshop, they had only begun to make their escape holding something that looked like containers, chests and a mysterious looking spear. 

Of course, they didn’t escape.

She hoists up a body by its arm, heaviness nothing to her by her enhanced abilities under the moonlight, one that she intentionally allowed herself to use today. She craves, which is something that doesn’t usually happen, but who is she to stop herself from indulging while on overtime? There was a large open cut on the forearm of this bandit, and so she takes a mouthful of blood. Her veins pump in contentedness, and she wonders when was the last time she had blood.  

Rosaria hears a distant sound coming from above, like the flapping of wings, and suddenly something lands behind her. She whips around. 

A panting Albedo with dark glowing wings on his back, and dark pink cracks running across the side of his face. She almost drops the body in shock, and Albedo himself looked like he was close to collapsing on the snow. Whether from exertion or the scene in front of him, or both, she wasn’t sure.   

Before anything else, Rosaria tosses the body she was holding aside like a twig and swaps her mortification with anger.

“Kreideprinz.” 

Albedo looks into softly glowing red eyes on a murderous expression. 

“You made me work overtime.” 

“Yes,” he pants, eyes still wide at Rosaria, “I can see that.”

As Albedo slowly catches his breath, so do his wings shrink and start to fade, leaving the lines to faintly glow across his face. “I didn’t expect them to break through the seals that quickly, I’m sorry.”

Her growl was more vicious that it normally would. “Tch, you better be.” And I wouldn’t have to be exposed.

He quickly saunters over to the large container on the ground, walking over and avoiding the bodies, checking and opening it for any damage or changes. The alchemist focuses on the state of his almost stolen important items, while the quiet assassin starts to gather the bodies. Neither wanting to address the elephant in the room, nor process their thoughts. Albedo speaks up, clasping the container sealed shut. “I believe these hoarders and bandits are aided by stronger enemies, most likely Fatui. Have you encountered any of them?” Rosaria, blood gone from her mouth, and glowing crimson back into dark pink, stands at attention, and stares at the trees. “No, not yet.” Albedo stills at her tone, and looks up to heavy footsteps and menacing laughs. 

“I knew it was worth having those low-life hoarders go ahead, their low-life lives ending up paving the way for us.” Albedo grits his teeth. They’ve finally shown themselves.

“You’ve got no other choice now, alchemist. Give us that spear and container, and you might just live to see another sunrise.” He looks over to Rosaria who inches closer to him, her own spear and knives ready. He tries to summon any leftover power enough to fend them off, but nothing. He scans the area and spots the unfinished spear.

“Sister Rosaria,” a plan starts blooming in Albedo’s mind as the rest of the Fatui reveal themselves from the shadows around them. “this might be a bit presumptuous of me to say but—”

“What?”

“Use the spear.”

Her head snaps towards Albedo, incredulity and suspicion clear in her eyes before she notices his pose. “And, please hold them out for a moment.” He slowly positions himself, snow and soil crunching at a worm’s hearing, ready to run back into the workshop with the container hidden behind his back, but starts rotating his other wrist into a stretch. Rosaria quickly discards her own polearm into the air, and snatches the creepy looking spear from the ground. She almost scoffs. This thing’s not even finished and refined yet. The proficient assassin twirls her new spear into the air and catches it into a stance. Clouds part once more into a glow of crimson and wine. 

“Don’t blame me if this breaks.” 

“Unfortunately.”

He waves a hand and she dashes with a jump.

“Moment of birth.” “Shiver!”

Albedo bursts into his workshop, momentarily ignoring the ruins and evidences of a break-in with a heavy heart, and runs to the back, to where the second seal was. The sight of the chaos inside seems to match its sound outside. As he tries to dash around fallen items, he just hopes not everything was stolen. He skids and almost falls around the door frame, the remnants of his broken seal weakly glowing in the dark area. Durin’s life essence within him was still calm and controlled, much to the relief of his concerns, but drawing out such power and energy to use and control his form needed a catalyst to sustain it. Albedo berates himself for spending the quartz too quickly, and his own energy was seeping out fast. A few experiments and practices really wasn’t enough for his new power. He stumbles on a chest, cradling the container holding Durin’s life power and latches open the chest of scarlet quartz. He’s only done this a few times before, and he hopes the outcome will still be the same. He grabs a few cuts in his hand and opens the container, sticking his hand into the glowing red mass of light, hoping once more to revitalize the quartz. Immediately he feels the power within him lick and grow reacting to the light, cool warmth tracing lines over his body. He waits a few moments before he feels the quartz absorb the energy. Albedo removes his hand, shuts the container and the light dims, a brighter, pulsing red now in his fist. Successful revitalization and transfer once more. He hears shuffling and movement outside.

“There he is! Get the container!”

Albedo stands, bright crimson shading his face in the dark from the window, a proper depiction of what he was about to be. The alchemist takes a deep, still breath once more, remembering the winds from Venessa’s tree. He crushes the quartz in his hand, and Durin roars from within. 

Rosaria throws her knives towards the Pyroslinger in the back, landing sure hits as she teleports behind another, dodging a heavy attack from an Electrohammer. In fairness to Albedo, she could see and feel why he told her to use the spear, despite it being unfinished. As she slashes her opponent from behind with cryo, her speed and brute force enhanced by the moon and the blood long gone in her mouth pumping her veins, a frost icicle coalesced from above falls, a cry of pain and staggering before her. The warmth it gave through the shaft was oddly comforting and empowering. Even unfinished, it was a proficient weapon, sharp and seemingly infused with a mysterious power as the tip glows against the stain of battle. Better it breaking in her hands than used by these scumbags, but…. “Tch.” She packs punches with the Vanguard in front of her before knocking them by the blunt of the spear. What in Favonius is Albedo taking so long! Moments ago, she briefly heard the hint of a scuffle coming from the workshop just before a pyro bullet whizzed past her face earlier. The moon seems to shine on her even more, her blood rushes, the sight of a target to eliminate, and she starts to crave. Her eyes flash at the sight of its own color splattered on the white ground. She cuts the nearest enemy and savors it from her knife. It’s not wine, but it's enough of a compensation for overtime, for now. Rosaria dashes once more with a swing at the Electrohammer and jumps, gathering ice blue into a frost lance into the ground and immediately pivots as she lands, summoning her original, deep blue spear, and smashing it into the hidden agent behind her. Before she could make another swing, a figure flies past her and crashes into another enemy. Albedo was finally out, his wings were back and they seemed bigger than they were before. He finally joins her. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Had my own and a workshop to battle for.”

They jump into the fray once more. 

The fight was now going smoothly, no more enemies were coming out of the shadows, and numbers were dropping. Suddenly, one of the remaining Vanguards enhances himself and starts rampaging towards Albedo as Rosaria tries to finish off a Cryogunner. Albedo tries to block the barrage of attacks with his wings, successive punches and pulls staggering him. As soon as the final sequence of attacks stops, he jumps a distance away to counterattack. His eyes glow, and light coalesces into his left ha—  

Crk! Cr—rik, crack.  

Rosaria moves just in time to see it happen before her. The sight accompanying the sound. A fissure forms on the side of his left arm, streaking from his forearm to above his elbow. On his face, where the glowing red lines were now lined with cracks across his face. 

In those short seconds, Rosaria’s being was filled with dread and horror at the sight of it. Cracks, like he was porcelain, like ceramic, like he wasn’t human. Albedo clutches his face and arm in pain and confusion, groaning out in pain. The Vanguard was coming back closer with another attack.  

“Albedo!”

His wing suddenly violently morphs, and stabs the Vanguard, forming a sharp tip that turned crystal red from its dark black base. As it moves again to throw away the Vanguard, it disperses into red light, the wings are gone, as well as the lines on Albedo’s face. But they weren’t done yet, two bodies still moving, and Rosaria taps into the last of her rushing blood and drains it to finally finish the rest.  

Dragonspine was finally quiet and at peace.

Before Rosaria can say anything, Albedo strikes first after labored breaths. An agreement on silence. 

“I’ll pay for your tab…. at Angel’s Share. For a week.” 

“Deal.”

“In exchange….”

He feels a sudden deathly red glare from the side of his head. He opens his hand towards Rosaria, and eyes her from his position on the ground.

“Give me a stick, and hand me a lighter.” 

Her face says it all as Albedo looks at her with an open hand, waiting. After a while, she pulls back her scowl but keeps the eyes, still equally expressive. For a moment, he sucks in a breath. Stars and snowflakes flowing in a breeze before him, calling out to a familiar yet equally strange feeling in his lungs, and lets it out in a fond smile. 

She could be so expressive sometimes, for a perpetually ice-cold face and manner of speaking.

She fishes from the side of her torso inside of her clothes, a pack of cigarettes, just like how Albedo hypothesized, and swiftly picks the lighter out from her thigh next to the strapped knives. Rosaria however, doesn’t give him the items right away. She opens the pack with a flick, a stick sliding out, and holds it, lighting one for herself before tossing both items to Albedo.   

As Albedo lights his own stick, injured arm holding the lighter, Rosaria eyes him in the current turn of events, holding her cigarette aside after one puff. Suspicion, agitation and, begrudgingly, concern. He tosses the pack and lighter back to Rosaria, taking a long and slow inhale. She frowns even more, tongue opting to say vastly different words than from her mind. 

“Do you even know how to?”

He gives a heavy breath out, smoke and fog mixing into the blood-soaked air. 

“Perhaps.”

4

“What are you doing out here this late?” 

If it weren’t for the unnecessary noise and movement of someone who wasn’t trying to keep hidden in the woods, she would have put a knife to their throat already. Worse, if she didn’t held back, she would have to deal with a frightened crying child before she could even start her work. Rosaria sighs, looking at the young bomb specialist before her, “Klee, you’re going to cause more trouble for the Knights if you keep staying out late.” The little girl meekly bows her head and clasps her hands behind, “I know…. I’m sorry Sister Rosaria….” She sighs again, “So are you done? We need to get you back to the Knights.” Klee lights up, knowing that this mean looking sister isn’t really one for sermons and nagging. She nods, “Klee is almost done! I just need to pick up this jar.” She picks up the glowing jar and holds it tightly around her arms. “Let's go!” The Spark Knight starts to make her way out of the Whispering Woods, the jar of fireflies in her hands and the small lamp grass along the path softly illuminate their walk. As much as Rosaria wanted to track down her targets immediately, letting their most dangerous knight with the attention span of a bee outside in the growing night only spells more possible trouble for everyone. At this rate, Rosaria might not find time to return to the tavern after work. The troubled nun momentarily slows down in her walk. Still, as she looks at Klee skipping and humming, entranced by the night life of nature, unperturbed by anything else in the world and its darkness, protecting this child’s innocence is a way of repaying for the warmth she received from the people who welcomed her. If she, who’s innocence and life has long been stained in the beginning, then….

A wind of blessing gently rolls through the woods. Rosaria steels herself and follows Klee closer. 

Tch. The things I do for Mondstadt. 

“So when Klee was starting to go back and passed by the Whispering Woods, fireflies suddenly appeared before me! They were so pretty and they looked like they were dancing. Like how Klee sometimes sees people in the plaza dancing at night! And Klee wanted to give a present for Master Jean and the others, so, so,” she skips up the last few steps on the stairs towards the Knight’s headquarters, the said present now in Rosaria’s hands after Klee almost dropped it, twice. “Klee caught some fireflies and put it in a jar, then you found me!” Rosaria follows up the last few steps to the waiting child on top of the stairs. “Fireflies are pretty and nice to look at, but the next time you see fireflies while outside, that means you need to go back to the city already, understand?” Sweet summer child nods at her, holding her hands behind again and swaying, “Klee had too much fun trying to catch them, hehehe….”  

Rosaria hands the jar back to Klee as they near the entrance, as they near towards him. Klee, as expected, rushes when she sees her brother. She stays in the shadows, not too near, not too far. “Big brother Albedo!” Albedo, who had been talking with the stationed knights, immediately whips his head towards the voice and barely catches Klee as she tumbles towards his legs. “Klee?! Where have you been?” But before Albedo fully directed his attention to Klee, he momentarily spotted a familiar shadow leaning on the concrete wall railings.  

“Sister Rosaria found me and guided me back here!” “S-- Sister Rosaria did?” but she was no longer there. He looks on, holding on to Klee while she speaks, not fully registering her words until she calls him, and they enter inside headquarters. 

The night was still young, it had only been an hour since sundown. 

It had been a week or more since that night. The night they were forced to bare themselves to each other, forced to bare their hidden secrets. Ultimately, it was a battle, a long drawn confrontation between two spies hidden in plain sight. An information war towards their own benefits. How much of you will I discover, without revealing myself?  

They held an unspoken truce with their exchange after the fight with the Fatui, and no more words were spoken between them. Nothing happened, nothing happened. Nothing that was meant to be unknown was known that night. Albedo went back inside the workshop to mend his injuries and body after the cigarette had burned into the tip. When he went back outside, bodies were disposed of and gone. Rosaria had silently left, to what Albedo assumes, to scout the surrounding areas and any sign of Treasure Hoarders and Fatui. Morning after, he created and sent a messenger bird to Mondstadt, cleared the workshop of anything and everything valuable, and stayed in the city. They haven’t seen each other since. He stayed in headquarters, finishing reports, working closely with the local smiths and Orban, forwarding the completion of the new weapons for the Knights, all the while secretly finishing his own project, the Dragonspine Fang, as coined by Orban. Today, the spear has been finished, and all that’s left to do is test it out.

Two hours later in the darker night, he leaves Klee to the rest of the Knights, and sets off to track the cryo user. Spear on his back, jacket up, and a request on his lips. 

True to Albedo’s words, the next night after the incident, she entered Angel’s Share to Diluc manning the bar, telling her about her tab for the week. Uncertainty to his words and a hint of suspicion, but otherwise normal. While she was thankful, she couldn’t help but grit her teeth in memory before answering Diluc.  

She lights a cigarette against the night spring wind, shaded by the cuihua and cedar trees. The mountain stays still from a far, while Windrise moves with the gentle blessing of its god. She immediately disappeared to the shadows before the alchemist could regard her fully then, and swiftly moved into the night., taking full vantage of the cloud coverage. The ever present moon allows her to tap into her rushing blood anytime, though she rarely does, but it also meant she had to constantly keep a check on her emotions, not that she showed much. That night in particular however….

Tsk.

(I was right.) 

The hidden sister in the night almost breaks the cigarette in her mouth. The mountain that she had been prowling for nights in a row looming before her. The careless mistake of indulgence that spawned the rest of the night mocking her in her mind.

(I’ve finally found my proof, I finally have my evidence.) 

It was a stalemate. The information earned and information lost were too dangerous to exist. That warm and glowing suspicion container that the Fatui were after, that unfinished spear that held similar properties. Suspicion items and suspicious causes for that night from the outlander alchemist. In a place like that, there was only one reason why anyone would be interested. The black dragon. She heard as much as she could get from the Traveler and about their own little excursions in the mountain, and so partially backed off from the case, especially after he shortly returned back to the city. That was only for Dragonspine. For Albedo himself, she continued but laid low amidst other rising issues and concerns to be dealt with. Of course, until that night in Angel’s Share, a challenge, a mission for information, and everything that happened after. Visions of glowing wings against bloodshed and cracks on the impossible audibly breathe into her mind.     

She blows a little too quick and a little harsh into the wind

(He’s a threat, he’s dangerous.)

He wasn’t human. At least, not entirely. She suspected as much, tracking him every time he was in Dragonspine. But to see it happen before her; the sound, the sight, his face, his arm, breaking and cracking. She felt sick to the stomach.    

(I investigate and eliminate threats to Mondstadt, and I have all necessary information.) 

He wasn’t human, and could channel the power of the remnants of a long dead, corrupted dragon.

(And yet….) 

She grits her teeth, and sets out to the mountains once more.

She showed even less than no mercy to her targets that night, and many cigarettes were lit.

It’s not like I could confess to being a hundred percent human either.

The mountain was growing on her. She scoured the heights and cliffs, as well as the surrounding areas for any sign of a dying, stubborn flame of enemies from that night and anyone else. She should be happy that there are less and close to no scum around the area, meaning no one to disturb the peace, no one to come from out of the darkness to taint the light. She should be happy that she could retire early in the night and spend more hours in the tavern, but she isn’t. 

All the snow and mist in Dragonspine normally covered all sources of light from above, leaving a hazy, white landscape below. This night, only a thin layer of haze drapes itself on the mountains, leaving slivers of moonlight to shine through. It wasn’t helping her case at the moment, like simmering soup below a thick layer of soft mousse cream. If she didn’t dig deep enough she wouldn’t feel it. She drags her blue spear on the snow as she walks on the Snow-Covered Path, the ample light from above making the mysterious red and white tree shine even more. She still has yet to know more about this tree, aside from what little everyone else knows. The mysterious glowing blue plants tickle her legs as she nears in front of the tree. What was long dead was born with new life and new blood. Was she not the same? Rosaria thinks back to her past.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Soft footsteps. She lets them come closer. 

“This tree reminds me of you sometimes.” 

A soft howl of the wind with the howl of the wolves at night. 

“Alive, reborn, resilient, mysteriously captivating… and alone.”  

She opens her eyes, and faces him. 

“Flattery? For what?”

“I believe you and I both know we don’t flatter anyone, if not, then these two months must have been a failure.”

A moment between, the wind goes to a still, and he quietly adds, “.....Thank you, for bringing Klee back.” She shakes her head with a gesture of her hand. Rosaria eyes the familiar polearm slinged on his back. “Is that the finished spear?” Albedo nods, getting it from his back, and removing the sling he placed. “Yes, I wanted you to have it, and to test it out.”  He says walking towards her and stopping at a distance, holding out the polearm in his hands. Her eyes quickly scan the fanged spear, seeing it indeed to be polished and refined. Rosaria’s clawed hands grip the weapon, holding it in front of her for a moment, and asks him uncertainly, “Why me?” He blinks up at her, his expression ever unchanging. “Aside from the fact that you have wielded this before, you are the most proficient in using polearms here in Mondstadt.” Albedo shrugs at her, speaking light and nonchalantly. “Only proper that such a dangerous weapon like this be given to someone of high skill.” Slitted crimson eyes narrow, and she swings the weapon to her side, left leg stepping back. “Spare me the rest, you’re here for something else Albedo.”    

Another moment passes between them, full of silence and tension. Neither bulges. 

“Yes.” Albedo finally answers, as he raises his hands together, and slowly pulls off his right glove. She takes a small breath as lines of glowing pink, red, and purple appear and trace over his body. “You need to have a target when testing out weapons, and so I wish to spar with you.” An aura of power and wind emanates from Albedo, and she sees it again. Dark wings folding out from his back, red light particles filling it. This time, she sees something new, gripping her spear in shock and agitation at the sight.   

His right hand turns into dark claws with the same running veined glow of red and pink. His head, a dark horn growing out from his hair, streaks of lines flowing down his face. 

Rosaria stands there and gapes.

Albedo awkwardly coughs into his hand. “Not the most appealing sight, I believe.” The transformation completes, the glowing lines resting into something more subdued.

“This power… is not of this world, and neither am I.” He breathes, “I…” pausing, and fumbling with his words, “can control this power, as long as I will it, and as long as I can.” He continues, voice turning soft and serious. “But if the day comes, when I am a threat to Mondstadt...” he looks at his hardened dragon claws and closes them into a fist, “...when I am no longer who I am, I want you to stop me.” 

Albedo sees her falter in her stance, taken aback by his words. “And if there’s no other way, I want you to kill me.” He summons his sword into his right hand, “I’ve decided to put trust in you for this,” and lunges towards her in a flash. 

She barely manages to dodge the first swing of his downward attack late by a half second, and kicks into survival mode, immediately blocking his next with the body of the spear, using the force and the spear against his sword as momentum to jump and land a kick towards his head. Her action is blocked by his tough, glowing wing and Albedo starts his next move, but Rosaria is faster, hardened by death fights, and illuminated by moonlight. She pushes the polearm against the sword to give her force to swing her other foot, landing on his wing into a jump, and twisting her body in the air. Albedo’s head jerks up to see her casting a shadow on him, her red eyes and glowing spear prominent in the sight. She smashes the spear into the ground with a flurry of snow. The alchemist barely manages to move, and lands a short distance from her with his wings, eyes wide from the executed attack.      

Rosaria, still flustered and frustrated at everything happening right now, snaps at him, not yet knowing what else to say. Her eyes glow against the sparse moonlight. “I’ll kill you myself right now, this is a horrible decision from a genius like you! Are you stupid?!” Albedo at least had some decency to look ashamed, raising his arm. “I… regrettably concur with that.” He summons sharp gold crystals flying towards Rosaria, and makes his move, continuing the fight.

When Albedo’s wings almost smacks Rosaria into the stone wall, and his sword brushes the hair of her skin, when her knives wizzed pass an inch from Albedo’s neck, and the coalesced frost of the spear almost buries him, they stand away from each other, panting. Hot breaths into the cold air from only one mouth, the dark soil revealing itself under the disturbed snow. 

Rosaria grits her teeth. 

“Why do you trust me so much? I already know what you are, I know what you’re capable of, I can just tell the Knights the truth. I can just kill you right now! Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting to hide ever since?!” In the small back of her mind, she wonders when was the last time she felt this way; angry, torn, desperate and pleading.

He pants between words, the high-speed, high-intensity fight draining his energy and form. “As I said before…. I can control and manage my power, but…” He tries to raise his body to fully face her wide, conflicted eyes seeking answers. “There is no guarantee that the involvement of outsiders and third parties wouldn’t change that.” 

She falters again, like she lost hope, like the cruel hidden truth manifested in front of her like a thin veil. There’s a hint of desperation and anguish in his quiet voice. “You know I’m not human.” She chokes on her breath. 

Albedo blinks, and he’s suddenly pounced into the ground with a flurry of snow. He tries to recover and regain his bearings, but halts when he feels heavy weight on himself, and a sharp prick on his neck. Rosaria’s wide, tormented crimson eyes drill him into place, the rest of his limbs effectively pinned to the ground by her body. She tightens her grip on the spear aimed at his neck. It starts to shake.

How could he consider himself not human when he was the subject of many human relationships and companionship in Mondstadt? How could he consider himself not human when he’s made her experience and face human emotions these past months? How…? When he’s made her feel vulnerable, soft, weak and selfish?

“...Why are you telling me this?” She finally says. 

When he answers, his bright turquoise eyes were as clear as the waters of Cider Lake reflecting the early morning sky of Mondstadt and the glistening dew of the surrounding mountains, the first time she climbed up the church belltower after being welcomed into the warm city. 

Well, come on then! Kill me, and you can leave this place. 

“So you know what to do.”

Kill me. You can do this, can’t ya?

He spirit breaks once more. With a cry, she stains her spear. 

Stained with unshed tears, emotions and her past, she shakes through her breaths. She stains it with vulnerability, and the companionship of another. The tip of the spear stays right next to Albedo’s head. He blinks, his power fully coming to a rest. He looks up to Rosaria with her head hung low, hands in front of her, and feels guilt with the heavy request he gave. He takes a few moments, trying to gather the right words to say.

“I’m sorry.” 

“‘I’m sorry’ ? You’re at the wrong nun to be apologizing and giving confessions.” 

He opens and closes his mouth. They stay in the same position for a while.

“Aren’t you cold?”

She juts her chin towards him.

“Lying in snow.” 

He blinks.

“My coat was tailor made for harsh temperatures such as here in Dragonspine. You could also say that I’ve acclimatized to the weather here.” He pauses, voice turning soft and surrendering, telling the truth. “....My body is made of a material sturdier and denser than other… normal people. It feels and registers outside temperatures half at what the normal human body normally does.” 

“Yeah, I figured.”

Through his clothes, he feels the thin sheer fabric hugging her legs. He frowns a bit. 

“Aren’t you cold?”

“What do you think? I’m almost the same as you, cold temperatures are a small matter to me.”

Rosaria didn’t really answer his question and his frown doesn’t go away. Albedo’s clothes were thick, but enough to still feel the miniscule shaking of her body. 

Then a puff of breath grazes his face.  

“I am.” 

A child of moonlight and endless slaughter, destined to never feel warmth. The blanket was never enough, the fire was never enough, her stomach was never full and the food was never warm enough. The rocks and ground were always cold, the weapon and knives she held, frosty and sharp, the gazes and words never held that glow. Except…. 

She holds herself. 

“I’ve always been cold.”

Except for all the warmth, love, care and attention she doesn’t deserve. 

As hints of morning reveal itself to them, they get off from the snow, and Albedo invites her somewhere close to see the sunrise. A short quiet walk up the side, with the view of Mondstadt, the ocean, and the sun. As they reach the place, the mist seems to part, and the sun rises before them. 

Rosaria breathes in the air, the sight inexplicably filling her with emotions. 

The brightness didn’t seem so blinding after all. 

She slowly raises her hand, reaches up to her coif, and drags it down, falling to the snow. Her right hand reaches to her left, and pulls her gloves with the metal claws. She also lets it fall to the ground, and does the same to her right glove. Albedo watches with curiosity, tinged with amusement. Rosaria then ruffles her hair, covered by her coif for a long time, and answers Albedo’s unspoken question. “Off-duty.” He nods, amused at her actions and the mess of her hair framing her face. She drops her hands to the side with a breath, the feeling of her cold hands tingling on her scalp. They continue watching the horizon through air and snow.

She protects, defends and preserves the warm brightness of love and happiness that Mondstadt gives. How could she kill this man who’s part of the light that people give? She was getting too soft, but…. Would it be wrong to have now what you didn't as a child? 

As the sun reveals itself fully to the world, illuminated and cleansed by sunlight, Rosaria threads the silence with quiet words. “I haven't given you a proper response yet, have I? To your request.” 

“Mm.” 

Before Albedo could say anything else, she pulls him by his collar.   

“Listen here, Albedo. I don’t want unnecessary deaths, especially if they're preventable. As long as you haven’t defected or betrayed Mondstadt, I won’t kill you. So do something about your power and your situation. It's your power, it’s your responsibility.” Rosaria punctuates the last word with letting go of his collar. Albedo fully touches the ground with a slight stagger

“If you care about Klee, if you care about the Knights, if you care about Mondstadt and the Traveller, then do something about it!” 

Albedo gives a few wild blinks at her angry, puffed face, processing her words. He gives a huff, a soft snort. then a laugh, like all the burden had been lifted. His eyes shine. 

“Thank you.” 

The smile he gave her could rival the warmth that her beloved city brought. 

She huffs, crossing her arms and facing towards the sun. The morning wind ruffles her chopped wine hair. “We work hard and live each day to the fullest, do we not?”

The white and yellow lights in snow and mist paint a picture to remember in Rosaria’s mind.

“Until that day really comes and we’ve both got no choice, don’t go and cause trouble for me... and don’t make me go on overtime. Understand?” 

He laughs again more freely than he’s ever had. Oh… that’s why. Cold, strong, strict, forthright, efficient, serious, and genuine. Under the falling snow around them, Rosaria reminds him of his master, and gives him the feeling of home.

6

A brighter sunlight than her memory seeps into the room she was in. Cold wetness rolls down her nose and cheekbones. She shifts her head and stuffs her face against the soft yet firm pillows. 

5 months. 5 months since then. 

The stabs of pain get more painful each time she thinks about it. The stabs of uncertainty and fear, of what could be controlled in your grasp and what is dictated by life. She could try to prowl the roads and forests of Mondstadt, but if you didn’t know your enemy, how would she prevent her fears? 

She closes her eyes once more, her mind then wanders around and back to the past. To the conversation between two reunited old friends despite erosion and conflict, their promises, and their farewells. She distinctly remembers the relief and happiness on the old god’s face, the sadness of parting, and the reminiscence. She also couldn’t forget the gratefulness of the other for having the old god remain by his duties. Her mind travels farther, to stories and lessons, to hushed and grasps of conversations, and to the flight of a free dragon once more. When terror was changed into reconciliation and protection, and suffering was saved by familiar winds. She thinks of these and maybe… just maybe… things don’t have to end up the way we fear it to be. 

The wind outside gently bumps into the window above the bed. Maybe, there would be nothing for her to worry about in the end, and she could enjoy herself some selfish happiness.  

A sound of something against the table beside the bed rouses her. As well as a familiar smell. 

“Ah you’re awake.” 

She rolls her head to the side with a few blinks.

“Good morning Aria, how are you feeling?”

She’s really gonna stab Albedo today.  

Her rebooting morning body allows Rosaria to dismiss the nickname without incident. As she slightly pushes herself up against the pillows, her eyes recognize the scent on the table. “Got you breakfast and morning wine.” Now, she couldn’t push that one away without incident. She composes herself enough to look at Albedo, who seated himself on a chair beside the bed. A loose white shirt dress, long plain shorts and unbraided, ruffled hair. Good. 

“Glad to know you actually slept.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?”

She just gives an amused huff. 

Albedo looks closer at her, blankets still covering most of Rosaria, and asks again. “How are your injuries?” She didn’t need to move them to know how her leg and arm were. She gestures a hand towards him. “They’re fine,” and faces him with a sigh and an unimpressed look. 

“You know I heal fast. Why did you bother bringing me here anyway?” 

“It’s in the Knights of Favonius' conduct of affairs to help any injured person.” He looks at her deadpan. Rosaria continues to stare and waits for his expression to crack and shift.

“Besides…” there it is, “you were in pain.” She blinks, surprised at his honest words and expression, not expecting him to be outright and open. She looks away, softly giving her thanks. 

“And either way,” Albedo suddenly says, standing up and placing his knee onto the bed, inching closer towards her. He cocks his head to the side with a smile.

“I missed you.”  

She debated for a second whether to suppress her eye roll before her eyebrow twitched instead.

Rosaria sighs, pushing herself up towards Albedo, the soft sheets slowly falling and sliding down her body. She snakes around his body and drapes herself on him, the alchemist frozen and surprised at her sudden forward actions, left arm over his shoulder, fabric of her clothes touching him, and head almost, almost nuzzling his neck. Albedo lets out a breath as they stayed like that for a moment, before Rosaria retreats back into the bed, the glass of wine he prepared now in her right hand with a small smirk on her lips. He shakes his head with a sigh, and sits back down. 

“You’re always like this in the mornings.” 

She takes an indulgent gulp of wine. Warmed red breakfast wine from the stock Albedo always keeps with him for her since 3 months ago. 

“And what about it, Kreideprinz?”

He shakes his head with a soft smile.

“Nothing, Sister Rosaria.”