Work Text:
Beidou fears the sea.
Any sailor worth their salt will admit their terror freely—the sea is harsh and cruel and uncaring, its glories not for the faint of heart, and a healthy dose of fear will save lives aboard a ship, or so says the Captain of the Alcor.
But Beidou is still a child, new to these waters, and has yet to experience her first true storm.
… That, however, is about to change, and Beidou is not nearly frightened enough.
She has encountered a few tempests, now, on her journeys across the seas: but those that frequently encircle Inazuma are predictable, even in their peril—a barrier of the Archon meant to deter rather than destroy—and ships that are willing to brave the lightning’s glow more often than not pass through unscathed.
But now Beidou looks to her Captain, sees the dread in his eyes, and understands with jarring clarity that the oncoming cyclone creeping closer by the hour is not, in any form, an ordinary storm:
The horizon has grown dark as a moonless night, the clouds ominous towers flashing with light dyed violet by a profusion of Electro energy; thunder rumbles low, resonant and deep, as if tolling from the innermost pits of the Abyss, and the frigid waters churn a deep green-ish grey like moss-covered stone, frothing and foaming and chomping at the bit, an impatient omen of devastation and death, just waiting for a chance to unleash its malice and drag unsuspecting sailors to their doom beneath the waves.
The activity aboard the Alcor becomes frenetic as the crew hastens to furl the sails and reinforce the masts, stowing below deck every bit of gear that isn’t nailed down to the hull. Beidou helps where she can, tying ropes into knots and organizing supplies, preparing the ship for the inevitable aftermath. And as she darts among the crew, she hears them praying under their breaths, to Rex Lapis and Narukami and Mondstadt’s absentee Lord of Wind—to any among the gods who will listen. And most of all, they pray to the Halcyon, the great golden bird of legend and myth whose cry calms the seas, guiding ships through the storm, and whose wings enfold mariners in its sheltered embrace.
As the waves become rougher, Beidou flees to the shrine tucked away in the hold, maneuvering between the secured stacks of their cargo, and leaves behind a treat she was saving for later, the very last of her sweet rations from the previous port, an indulgence from the Captain that he cannot deny her.
She prays, hands clasped, to the Halcyon, and hopes that her offering will be enough to earn its aid.
… She hopes, too, in vain, that the Alcor will not need it.
But after a few hours more the storm is upon them, the crew toiling at the oars to just keep them moving—stroke after stroke diagonally against the gales, slicing the waves and barely staying afloat.
Beidou can hear the roar of the waves, the howling of the wind, the crashing of thunder in a discordant song, and it tempts her, pulls her, fills her with need to peek above deck, just once, just to see—to view for herself with her own two eyes such tremendous, immeasurable power.
She leaves the relative safety of the hull, and is faced with horrors she did not comprehend.
She can see nothing through the torrential rain and she immediately loses her footing, pitching across the deck at breakneck speed, and she is swept overboard before she can utter a word, head going under as she is claimed by the sea.
Saltwater stings sharp in her eyes, nose, throat, and she fights to stay buoyant, kicking for the surface, but her desperate efforts yield no results, and she sinks ever deeper into the ocean’s tight grip.
Her lungs burn, pleading for air, but she can no longer tell which way is up, and exhaustion begins to seep like lead into her limbs, the struggle sapping what remains of her energy. Resigned to her fate, her eyes flutter shut, and through the crack of her lids she sees a brilliant burst of light, and Beidou wonders if this is what it feels like to die.
But then—
A massive pair of talons cuts through the waves, wrapping around her body in a gentle caress, and when she breaks the surface, lifted from the sea, the sight that greets her is beyond her wildest imaginings:
An enormous gold bird, glowing bright like the sun, feathers flickering like flames against the slate-grey sky, and as Beidou’s tired mind succumbs to the void—murmuring her thanks to this legend made true—she falls into darkness, safe in its grasp, to the memory of the Halcyon’s watchful crimson eyes.
***
She is ushered through the doors to the Jade Chamber, biting her tongue to restrain her gasp—she will not give the Tianquan the satisfaction of her awe, not when she has commanded Beidou to appear here.
“Welcome to the Jade Chamber,” says a woman in red, a secretary, Beidou thinks, by the look of her. “Residence of Lady Ningguang, Eternal Tianquan of the Qixing, Illuminated Bea—”
“Yeah, I know who the Tianquan is,” Beidou says, impatient, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Can you take me to her? We have business to discuss.”
The secretary looks equal parts shocked and outraged on the Tianquan’s behalf, but she leads Beidou down the stairs nonetheless, muttering to herself about "the nerve of this pirate” and glancing over her shoulder to give Beidou dirty looks.
The secretary abandons her in an opulent office, bowing to the Tianquan before taking her leave, and Beidou simply stands as she waits for acknowledgement, taking the moment to observe her:
She sits behind a desk—mahogany, imposing—and she is formidable against the backdrop of a luxurious jade screen, exquisitely carved with finely detailed flowers and inlaid with the emblem of her title in the center, its glittering golden wings flaring out at either side.
She looks up from her work and sets it aside, meeting Beidou’s eye with her own, and though Beidou has seen the Tianquan several times before—inescapable as she is as Liyue’s source of Law—never has she needed to come quite this close.
Even still, there is something familiar about that gaze that Beidou can’t seem to place, something that lingers in the back of her mind that lies just on the edge of remembrance, but when the Tianquan stands, the moment is gone, and Beidou follows her movements with a wary eye.
“You are the new Captain of the Crux Fleet, correct?”
She speaks with a no-nonsense directness that Beidou grudgingly respects, skipping the small talk and getting right down to business.
“Yes,” she replies, arms crossed over her chest, “but what’s it to you?”
She grins, hands folded gracefully over her abdomen, partially obscuring the glow of her Vision, saffron against the stark white of her dress.
“I have a proposal for you, Captain,” she says, honey-rich and sweet, “one which your predecessor steadfastly refused. I am hoping you will be more amenable to reason—reason, of course, being the handsome rewards you will receive if you agree to work with me.”
Beidou doesn’t trust her, not for a second—this woman who has endured, impenetrable through the ages and untouched by time, who has built and manipulated Liyue with masterful hands; she who has raised mountains and yet lives among the clouds, who has both witnessed and committed unspeakable horrors, in the ancient wars so long ago.
No, Beidou does not trust her… but she is intrigued despite herself; likes how she said work with rather than for, though she suspects that was as deliberate as every other choice the Tianquan makes, each and every move planned meticulously beforehand.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Beidou ultimately replies, sitting on the arm of a sturdy chair across from the desk, watching with a keen eye as she sorts through a pyramid of scrolls. “But you’re an Adeptus, Head of the Qixing, the wealthiest person in the world—what could I possibly offer you?”
The Tianquan locates the document she seeks, unfurling it on her desk for Beidou to peruse.
“The things I would ask of you require a certain degree of… anonymity, and a subtlety of presence that I, as a public figure as well as an Adeptus, simply do not have.” Beidou smothers a laugh and the Tianquan raises an immaculate white brow, tapping the elaborate steel covering her thumb against the wood of her desk. “You have the ability to move freely among the nations, gathering intelligence and resources at will. I would like to utilize that ability for the protection of Liyue, and, perhaps, for some more… lucrative opportunities—opportunities from which we would both benefit greatly.”
“So you want me to be your spy,” Beidou asks, matter-of-fact, and she can understand why her Captain had refused this offer, understands now why he had warned her about the Tianquan—but Beidou is not him, far more of an opportunist, and while she acknowledges the risk, the payoff, she thinks, would be well worth the trouble…
It certainly pays, at least, to have friends in high places, and there are few who stand higher than the Tianquan.
“You misunderstand me,” she says, a cunning glint in her eyes, and Beidou feels her heart pick up speed in her chest. “I already have a network of spies and informants. I would need you—”
“—To do your dirty work?” she interrupts. Ah. “I see. Isn’t that a bit unethical for the figurehead of our fine government?”
She chuckles low, thick in her throat, and Beidou’s stomach lurches uncomfortably.
“I may have a binding contract with Rex Lapis to safeguard Liyue and uphold his law—and to that contract I hold—but exactly how I go about my business is none of his concern.” She summons her pipe from across the room, lights it with a strike of flint on her desk, and the fragrant smoke curls around the office, obscuring her face and muddling Beidou’s senses. “Or yours, for that matter.”
She gestures to the scroll with those talon-like fingers and exhales smoke between pursed red lips. “What say you, Captain?”
Beidou reads it thoroughly, inspects the wording with care—the Tianquan surprisingly open to making adjustments where Beidou objects—and after an hour of negotiation, broken only by a shared pot of tea, Beidou scratches her signature below the Tianquan’s, who stamps their names with her own personal seal, bold vermilion ink finalizing the bond between them.
“I appreciate your business, Captain,” she says, retaking her seat behind her sprawling desk and pulling her previous paperwork toward her again. “I will call for you when I require your services.”
Beidou dislikes being dismissed, but for now she will hold her tongue, and she takes one more glance at this mystery of a woman, turns on her heel, and leaves for the Harbour, looking forward to stepping back on solid ground as she retreats to her ship and the comfort of the sea.
***
“What’s your name, Ningguang?”
Ningguang lifts her eyes from the scroll she’s reading, brow raised high and lips curled in a frown, glancing at Beidou as if she’s never heard a more foolish question in all several thousand years of her life.
“Your Adeptus name,” Beidou clarifies, rolling her eye, and puts her feet up on Ningguang’s much smaller desk—meeting in her Yuehai Pavilion office this time—and a thrill races down her spine at the magnificent way Ningguang scowls. “You know—the fancy one. Perfected Lord of something or other.”
She glares, from Beidou’s face to her boots and back again. “I do not disclose my sacred name so carelessly.”
“Oh, let me guess,” Beidou says, dropping her feet as she leans forward in her chair, tapping a quick rhythm with her fingertips against her thighs. “Is it… Law Maker? No—Tax Collector!” Ningguang’s scowl becomes impossibly deeper, and Beidou just smiles, wide-eyed and innocent. “Hmm… Pirate Hater, maybe?”
Ningguang gives her a thoroughly unamused look, and her tone is dry when she replies:
“Your lack of reverence never fails to astound, Captain.”
Beidou holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to get to know my generous benefactor better. Hey!” she says, scarlet eye bright, “that could be your name! Generous Benefactor; how does that sound?”
“It is not within your power to bestow a sacred name—that honour lies with Rex Lapis alone.”
“Y’know, Ningguang,” she sighs, shaking her head, equal parts entertained and mildly disappointed, “you can be a real bore sometimes.”
“You bring out only my very best,” she says, and offers Beidou a sharp, sardonic smile. “Now, do you have a reason for lingering, or are you here merely to distract me? I have plenty of work that requires my attention, and, as we’ve agreed, you have an expedition to prepare—time is of the essence, Captain, and it has already begun to slip through your fingers.”
She loses herself in her work, rapidly as usual, and Beidou huffs her annoyance as she rises to go.
“And do shut the door on your way out.”
It is childish and petty, but it makes her heart sing, and as Beidou walks through the door, she leaves it wide open.
***
It has become a tradition, though Beidou is not sure when, to dine with Ningguang (and lose a game of chess) on the eve before she sets out to sea.
They had begun in the Jade Chamber, private and aloof, far away from prying eyes who would scrutinize them, but soon they had relocated to the finer restaurants in town, and eventually Beidou had managed to convince her to try something new, heading to Wanmin on Chihu Rock. It had been recently opened for business by some friends of hers, and Beidou had been surprised when Ningguang not only loved it, but offered to finance the restaurant’s debts in full.
Mao had thanked her profusely for the rest of their meal, and she had waved it off as if it were nothing, but her kind smile had remained bright in Beidou’s heart, searing itself into her memory.
Tonight, however, they are back in the Chamber, at a tiny table set for two in its vast kitchen, and Beidou is trying with all her might not to stuff a meat-loaded pastry into her mouth in its entirety, dumbfounded by the fact that Ningguang can cook.
“Are you sure you made this?” she asks, swallowing hard, examining the pastry—its surface emblazoned with the image of a striking golden bird—with an avid, hungry eye. “You’re sure you’re not lying to me and you actually picked this up from a street vendor on the Rock?” Beidou takes another bite, restrains an eager hum, and wipes at her lips with the back of her hand. “Maybe you missed your calling as a chef, Ningguang, because this is incredible.”
Ningguang’s smile is small, but Beidou can read her easily now, and she practically radiates her satisfaction.
“I have simple tastes,” Ningguang says, and when Beidou snorts aloud, completely undignified, Ningguang, true to form, ignores her. “And I do not require much in the way of food. But a dear friend taught me this recipe centuries ago, and I have been fond of it ever since.”
“Well it’s amazing, Ning,” Beidou says, and reaches for another pastry when she completes her first. “Really, really good.”
The faintest of blushes colours Ningguang’s cheeks, though from the compliment or the nickname, Beidou cannot tell, and she thanks her as lithe hands finally pick up her own meal, the flush persisting till the end of the night.
***
Beidou returns triumphant once again, delivering the relics to Ningguang intact, and though she bears a new scar across her thigh that makes Ningguang frown, the job had gone off without a hitch.
Beidou cannot stay long in the Harbour this time, setting sail for Inazuma the following day, with just enough hours to restock their supplies before embracing the open ocean again.
She heads to the Halcyon’s shrine by the docks, placing her offerings as she always does, and she murmurs a prayer to the Saviour of Sailors, the protector she believes has never forsaken her.
“Is that… birdseed?”
Beidou turns to find Ningguang, a box in her hands, her eyebrow raised high with incredulity.
Beidou smiles, gesturing toward the perfect sphere of jade on the altar, shining bright green in the afternoon sun. “I usually leave pretty little things—shells, pearls, tiny fossils—gifts from the sea that wash up from time to time... but it’s a bird!” She shrugs, the bag of seed swaying in her grasp, “so I figured—”
“She.”
“She?”
“The Halcyon is an Adeptus,” Ningguang says, as if it were obvious, and to her, Beidou thinks, it must be. “Her name is Storm Tamer.”
“So you can hand out the sacred names of other Adepti, but Archons forbid you could tell me yours?”
Ningguang’s eyes flash with her distinctive glare, which would do wonders if Beidou were not impervious to it. “I am certain that she would not mind.”
“Do you know her?”
“All of the Adepti know each other, Beidou,” she sighs, but her expression softens as she hands Beidou the box, whose eye grows wide to find it full of Ningguang’s meat pastries, wrapped tight in dark paper and still slightly warm. “But yes, I… have met her.”
Beidou holds the box close to her chest, and tucks the bag of birdseed back into her satchel. “Then what does she like?”
Ningguang grazes her fingers along the piece of jade, Beidou’s wishes for a safe voyage contained within it, and her smile is tender as she glances at Beidou, before clasping her hands over her abdomen. “Glaze lilies,” she says, and turns on her heel, strolling up the hill toward Yujing Terrace. “She likes glaze lilies.”
***
Their meal is complete (Beidou had cooked one of Xiangling’s recipes, not nearly as good as she makes it—but Ningguang had been kind, had eaten every bite, and that had been enough for Beidou) and Beidou has been soundly vanquished in chess yet again, and though their conversation has stalled, they are comfortable in the silence, side-by-side at the Chamber together as they watch the sun set behind the mountains.
Ningguang turns east to the ocean, dark and forbidding, and Beidou cannot remember ever having seen her look quite so intimately vulnerable.
“Are you ever afraid, Beidou?” she asks, quiet in the stillness. “When you set sail, do you ever wonder if you won’t return?”
Beidou thinks of all the terrors she has seen in her days at sea—of cruel bandits and Haishan and the near disaster that almost took her life as a child—but when she looks at Ningguang, those fears fade away, and she nudges her shoulder with a reassuring grin.
“Sometimes,” she replies, open and honest, “but I’ve got an Adeptus looking out for me—two Adepti, really. And,” she says, suddenly nervous, as she laces her fingers with Ningguang’s, “it helps that I have someone to come home to.”
Ningguang speaks no further, still gazing out to sea, but she squeezes Beidou’s hand and does not let go, and though it is cold this high above the clouds, Beidou feels nothing but glorious warmth.
***
Ningguang walks as quickly as her heels allow, while still retaining every ounce of her dignity, and Beidou looks up from her preparations when she hears that particular rhythm against the wharf’s worn, grey stone.
“Beidou,” she says, and her tone is urgent, “I’ve received news that a storm is brewing along the route you had planned to Natlan—”
“I know, Ningguang, I’ve already heard.” She raises her shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, and continues to pack her supplies. “It’ll be fine.”
“It will not be fine,” Ningguang counters. “My contacts tell me that this is the worst typhoon they’ve seen in decades and—”
Beidou huffs an unamused laugh. “I know how to sail through a storm, Ningguang. And besides, I told you already, I have the Halcyon looking out for me—”
“—That bird will not always be there for you, Beidou!” She does not raise her voice, but she may as well have, and Beidou is stunned into silence. “She cannot be in two places at once and her duties lie elsewhere from time to time. You cannot rely on her to save you. You were fortunate once… but please do not press your luck again when a single week of delay is all I ask.”
Beidou has never seen Ningguang like this—her emotions rising so close to the surface—and her crimson eyes flare with an inner light that stirs a memory in the back of Beidou’s mind, but try as she might, it remains stubborn, and Beidou cannot force it to show itself.
“I need you safe,” she continues, laying her hands on Beidou’s neck, careful not to graze her with the sharp points of her nail guards, and she runs her thumbs gently along the line of her jaw, the sheer tenderness in her eyes making Beidou’s heart pound.
Their gazes lock for a minute, magnetic and overwhelming, when Ningguang seems to remember precisely where they are—that they are standing on the pier, surrounded by sailors, very much in public as people stare at them—and she pulls her hands back as if seared by a flame, petrified eyes wide before narrowing, and she straightens her posture, hardens her voice, and becomes the Tianquan of several years ago.
“Do as I say, Captain,” she says, an order. “Or there will be consequences for defying me.”
She does not allow time for Beidou to respond, intent on having the last word, and she vanishes abruptly in a burst of blinding golden light, leaving Beidou to fume silently beside the Halcyon’s shrine.
“Whatever you say, Ningguang,” she huffs under her breath, leaving her offering without further ado, and with the phantom touch of Ningguang’s hands on her skin, she hefts her supplies, returns to the Alcor, and resolves to leave for Natlan as soon as possible.
***
Beidou ignores Ningguang’s command without a second thought, though it rouses a rush of guilt that coils tight in her gut.
But she does not need Ningguang of all people to tell her how to sail, she who spends her days in her nest among the clouds or else rooted to the earth like a mountain immovable—what does Ningguang know of the ocean’s moods? What does she know about navigating the ebb and flow of the tides, the siren’s song of the sea, the profound intoxication of its capricious violence?
The deal she had spent months securing in Natlan will be null and void after a week’s postponement—would become a clear target on the Crux Fleet’s back during any of their future endeavours—and the livelihood of her crew depends on her reputation, and she will be damned before she sees them suffer.
Beidou fears the sea, and she has learned harsh lessons, but that has prepared her far better than most; she will not yield to the whims of a storm, nor will she capitulate to the demands of the Tianquan, or to the aggravating dance Ningguang has trapped them in, where they go one step forward in each other’s arms, only to fall two baneful steps back.
Beidou is tired of dancing and she will do as she pleases, and perhaps, when she returns, Ningguang will have learned to accept her for it.
She departs as planned, her course stable and steady, and for the first few days the sailing is smooth, waters placid with a mirror-like sheen. But ultimately they cannot avoid their fate, and the Alcor encounters the colossal squall that splinters a mast and tears at her sails—
But Beidou is ready, and presses onward.
The hurricane is wild, truly as lethal as Ningguang had warned, but Beidou’s skill proves greater than the threats of her foe, and she guides them even-keeled through its ferocity.
They have reached the storm’s periphery, clouds lingering above, wind and rain and scattered lightning, mild compared to what they have endured…
But just as Beidou believes they have emerged victorious—just as she believes they have escaped—she feels it, a tingle up her spine: the knowledge that lightning will soon strike nearby, electrifying the rain-soaked planks beneath her feet.
“Everybody down!” she shouts, and the crew takes cover, hitting the deck as she activates her Vision, and the Electro shield spreads rapidly over the ship, insulating them from the incoming blow.
It strikes where she stands, missing her by mere inches, and while the crew is unharmed—to Beidou’s relief—the force of the bolt is too much for her to counter, not while her energy is stretched quite so thin, and she is thrust back in time as the discharge sends her flying, propelling her through the air and clean overboard.
Once again she finds herself dragged into the depths, struggling to overcome the viciously swirling waters, and it is hauntingly quiet, almost serene, though not as dark as she remembers from all those years ago—her childhood memories becoming hazy with age. But as the lack of air burns like flames through her body, she fights the instinct to panic, closes her eye, and comforts herself with images of Ningguang; wonders if she will miss her when she never comes home… if she will mourn the impossibility of what might have been…
She doesn’t expect it, does not presume that she will come: and yet, like before, there is gold above her—an aura of such tranquility that Beidou has longed for—and familiar talons reach below the waves, drawing her to the surface where she gasps for air, coughing and wheezing and grateful to be alive, basking in the warmth of the Adeptus’ power.
We need to stop meeting like this, Beidou.
A voice in her head, fretful and fond—simultaneously smooth as the finest Liyuese silk and unshakable as the foundations of the tallest mountain—and Beidou, breaths hitching, even half-dead from exhaustion, would know that mellow voice anywhere.
“Ningguang?” She meets the Halcyon’s eyes, clever and crimson, and Beidou feels recognition spark in her chest, igniting the fire in the space between her lungs. “Ningguang.”
She says nothing more, setting Beidou gently aboard the deck of her ship, and she and her crew watch with wide, astonished eyes as this legendary creature soars away on high, the storm’s rage calming with each beat of golden wings, and amid the sweat and seawater dripping down her face, Beidou will not admit to the presence of tears.
***
She returns from Natlan a month and a half later, and when she does, she ascends straight to the Jade Chamber, brushing past Ningguang’s secretaries completely unannounced, and stands before the Tianquan, uncharacteristically quiet, shifting her weight in her discomfort.
She tosses a bag of birdseed onto Ningguang’s desk, and beside it places a single glaze lily, pristine and lovely and freshly picked, chosen specially from the gardens en route through Yujing Terrace.
“Thank you,” she says, when Ningguang meets her eye. “For saving my life.”
“Twice.”
“Right. Twice.” She scratches the back of her neck, and heaves out a sigh, and cringes slightly when the question spills forth from her mouth, sounding more like an accusation before she can stop it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ningguang removes her nail guards and lays them on her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers unimpeded. “I would prefer the connection between myself and the Halcyon not to be common knowledge.”
“Sharing a secret with one person doesn’t make it common knowledge, Ningguang,” Beidou says, voice hardening as her frustration begins to build again. “Do you not trust me? Do you think me beneath you? Is that what this is about?”
One step forward, two steps back.
Her bitterness crests like a wave, folding in on itself, and she inhales calmly, exhales on a sigh, and glances at Ningguang with a beseeching look in her eye.
“What are you so afraid of?”
Ningguang remains silent for a long, heavy moment, but then she rises from her seat, rounding the corner of her desk, and strides up to Beidou, taking her hand, running her thumb along her palm as she begins to speak.
“You go to that shrine multiple times a year,” she says. “You leave your beautiful treasures and whisper your hopes and dreams and the deepest desires of your heart, and I have heard them all, every last one. And I was afraid that—” she pauses, voice thick, and lays a hand on Beidou’s cheek, looking at her with desperate yearning in her eyes.
“I don’t want your worship, Beidou. I don’t want your deference or fear. I just want you, in all your insolent, bold, utterly infuriat—”
Beidou cuts her off with an insolent, bold, utterly infuriating kiss, her lips and Ningguang’s uniting in perfect harmony, and Beidou wraps her arms around Ningguang’s slim waist, pulling them flush together as they lose track of time.
She has never dared to imagine just how this would feel—has never dared to wish for Ningguang’s affection—but she is warm against her, skin petal-soft and hair fragrant like flowers, and when Beidou pulls back to meet crimson eyes, they shine with a timelessness to rival the light of the stars.
She presses another kiss to Ningguang’s reddened lips as she winds her arms around Beidou’s neck, and Beidou loves how she lingers, eyes fluttering shut, leaning in to chase her for just a little bit more.
Beidou can only grin, and Ningguang matches her with a small smile of her own, and they stand like fools in the silence of Ningguang’s office, holding each other tight as they catch up to the world.
“Storm Tamer, huh?” Beidou eventually says, her grin growing wide, and she runs gentle hands along the expanse of Ningguang’s back, offering her a wink as her voice dips low. “Still think Generous Benefactor suits you just fine.”
She huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes, shaking her head in fond exasperation. “During the Archon War,” she says, “I fought beside Rex Lapis to subdue Osial, Lord of the Vortex—afterwards I tamed the storm and calmed the seas, and thus the name was given to me.”
She raises one hand from its place around Beidou’s neck, caressing her cheek with unbearable tenderness, and her gaze is full with such quiet devotion that it steals Beidou’s breath and hastens her heart, leaving her in awe of this remarkable woman who has given her so much to be thankful for.
“I have quelled many tempests in my time,” she continues, and has never looked more radiant than she does right now, with the love of ages written across her face, “but you… you are a storm I have not managed to tame. Not yet.”
Beidou laughs, loud and long, and holds Ningguang tighter, leaning in close as she waits above her lips. “I don’t think that’s possible, even for you, Ning.”
She bridges the gap, speaking against her lips, and captures them with her own in an earth-shattering kiss.
“Good.”
fin