Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If he believed in fate, he’d say this was a moment ordained by the gods. 

Meeting at a market under the harsh morning sun, her in a linen dress, him in silken robes, a thousand miles from either of their original and chosen homes. She was as beautiful as the night he left her. A bit thinner but that was to be expected; he was the one who ensured she ate 3 meals a day 7 days a week back then. A part of him was happy to think that no one had taken his place.

He had felt her presence the moment he entered the city. Like a current pulling him to find her, to be with her. He’d gotten good at ignoring that feeling the past year with his travels taking him far from the haunts they used to share. No Mondstadt cliffs or Liyue inns for him; just being there made the thrum in his chest unbearable. But now with her just mere steps away, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

He followed her around the market, watching as she plucked produce out of crates haphazardly while chatting away with the shopkeepers. An easy smile on her face, the one he used to see when they went shopping and he’d indulge her of anything she spent more than a second looking at. He made a quick note of what she bought. No plans for meals, no cares about budgeting, just choosing that which struck her fancy. Still the same as always. 

He remembered all the times he’d go through her cupboards and make her a meal from the leftovers he found. How she smiled at him as she ate it all up, how she’d laugh as she washed the dishes, how easy that time was when he’d show up at her door after the sun had set and she’d let him go when the sun started peeking through her curtains. 

He missed those times. He missed her.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

If he believed in fate, he’d say this was a moment ordained by the gods. 

And he’d be a fool not to take this chance.

“Mona.”

She turned, no surprise on her face at his voice, his presence, or even how close he was standing to her. A little closer and he could wrap his arms around her waist. A small smile played at the edge of her lips. She knew he was there this whole time. He was sure of it. She knew his presence like the warm embrace of an ex-lover that it was. 

Maybe she even knew he was in the city from the moment he first step foot in it, like he did with her. Maybe she felt that same current too, pulling them close. A part of him was hopeful; maybe she had asked her stupid stars about him and purposefully put herself in front of him for this precise moment.

“Marry me.”

That caught her off guard. 

Their first contact in over a year, and those were his first words to her. He beamed. 

She may have the stars whispering to her what will happen or could happen or should happen, but they definitely did not prepare her for the enigma that was Scaramouche. 

Blush bloomed across her cheeks, the bag in her arms trembled for a second, and her mouth formed that perfect o-shape that she made whenever she felt a breakthrough coming. She would say yes. He could feel it. His beam slipped into a smirk as she looked up at him with a smile that could have kept him warm during those Snezhnayan winters.

“No.”

They would be wed immediately before they even left -

What.

She turned and walked away. Briskly. As he stood still, watching her go. Still processing her first word to him in over a year.

What?

“Megistus?”

And she was gone. She never even turned back.

It was a blessing that he didn’t believe in fate, because now he could curse this moment and all those gods with no fear of retribution. 

The smile never left his lips.

A weaker man would have given up but he was neither weak nor just a man. The chase was on. He caught her smile before she turned. It was time to catch his fate.

He returns to his hotel, strategizing the whole walk back. He immediately deploys his subordinates to tail her and bring back her daily schedule to him, where she sleeps, what she eats, who she's spoken with. He's decided to treat this like a work problem because last time he decided to treat it as a personal one, she slipped away from him for a whole year. Well, 362 days to be exact.

Chapter Text

She prided herself in knowing all her regulars. That’s why her cafe had done so well the past decade; she knew them and they trusted her. She memorized everyone’s orders and taste preferences and customized their meals slightly over time to fit what they liked. That was her secret. The meals were never standard; they were always personalized.

So when the raven-haired woman appeared at the same time for the 3rd day in a row (10:45 am on the dot) to have brunch and ordered the exact same meal (a basic salad with 1 hard-boiled egg on the side), she was quick to take note of her new regular. 

The chef had tried to make small talk: ask her where she’s from and what she liked to better recommend a meal that was more customized to the traveler’s tastes. But the woman just smiled serenely at her each time, saying that she’ll share all that in due time. When fate requisites it, she specifically said. “But what does fate have to do with ordering brunch?” the chef thought, shaking her head. A weird one but business is business.

Today felt different. For starters, the new regular had arrived 30 minutes earlier than normal. She kept checking the clock to make sure it wasn’t running late when she spotted the young woman entering the cafe.

Previously, the young woman had brought a bag full of books and notebooks with her, reading through multiple tomes at a time and drawing complicated graphs and calculations for notes as she ate her brunch. Today, she brought only 1 notebook with her that she was steadily writing in. The chef took a peek and saw it was words, just words, no complex figures this time. 

Her only order so far was also a first: tea, one specifically made with sakura blossoms preserved from Inazuma, and two cups for the table. The owner felt a sense of pride as she saw the steam wafting from the teapot; they were the only cafe in the whole city that provided that tea. A deal she had struck with a wandering salesman just a few months back. 

But what was most different was how the traveler was dressed. 

Prior to today, she had worn comfortable-looking outfits with her hair pulled into twin tails and her face looking freshly washed. Today, she had on a pretty patterned dress and did her hair nicely. Twin tails with loose curls framing her face, which was lightly made up with a hint of blush and lipstick. The chef knew this look. A first date look. She’d seen it on many young maidens who had come to the cafe to have a meal at the patio with young men (who were almost never dressed as well). She silently approved of the look. Not too much to look like she had woken up early, but just enough that it highlighted her natural beauty. The traveler was a pretty young thing with catlike features after all.

The entrance bell tinkled. Her eyes turned away from the young woman who sharply bent her head further down towards her notebook and started writing far more quickly and turned towards the door.

A beautiful young man stood there, looking directly at the young woman seated by the window. Clearly, a newcomer to the city as well judging by his clothes. He strode over to her, long steps picking through the tables purposefully. Like he knew she'd be sitting there.

“Mona.”

The chef picked up the young man’s melodious voice from the counter. 

The young woman was now pouring tea into the second cup. Ah, she must have been expecting him.

She pushed it towards him and gestured at the seat. He eyed the cup and the seat, not sitting yet.

“Let’s get married.”

The chef choked on her breath and started coughing vigorously. What?! A proposal?? In her cafe??? This was the first proposal ever in the cafe. This was definitely not a proposal type of place. A first date, yes. A proposal, no. 

The couple - that’s how the chef now referred to the duo - didn’t flinch or turn or even glance at her loudly catching her breath. Steadily staring into one another’s eyes as the tea on the table cooled. The woman turned away first, stating “The salad here is good but I’ve always wanted to try other things on the menu. Care to join me?” Was she rejecting him?? Diverting his attention away?? Or was that some sort of yes from her??

The man looked down at her from his stance next to the table. The chef quietly waited to hear what he’d say next as she couldn’t see his face. She was curious; a proposal in the declarative tone was unheard of. It was always a question in the books she read and the stories she heard, never a statement like that. What kind of man was he?

“Fine. What do you want to eat?”

The man sat across from the young woman, elegantly sliding into the seat while looking bored as he cast his gaze across the rest of the empty cafe before settling onto the chef unabashedly looking right at him. Without raising his melodious voice, he asked, “Madam, what are your best sellers here?”

The chef came rushing over to assist and before long the table was full with six different dishes as the couple quietly ate the meal. She quickly took note of the traveler’s - Mona, the man called her - appetite and how she ate with gusto as the man watched her while he took a few bites of each dish. A picky eater? She'd have to get his preferences next time as well. When Mona started slowing down, the man moved aside the empty teapot plus cups (Mona had only dran 1 cup, he had finished the rest with her refilling his cup every time it reached halfway) and reached over to hold her hand in his own with surprisingly no resistance.

“Mona.”

“Scaramouche.”

A beat of silence. A wordless gaze shared only between them, witnessed by one onlooker present.

“If I had a single flower for every time I thought about you, I could walk forever in my garden.”

Blush bloomed across the high points of her cheeks instantaneously. Mona, obviously caught off guard by his statement, coughed before turning to look away as the man - Scaramouche? - continued to stare at her, gaze softening at the sight of the flush spreading across her face. His fingers suddenly intertwined with hers on the table, locking her in place. The chef sighed. A maiden in love is always a sight to behold and the cafe was lucky to be privy to sights like that. But no other man who had ever walked through this cafe had as straightforward or ardent a gaze as this indigo haired one. 

She could not help but wonder what was in their past that led them to such a weird conversation in the present. As an outsider, she could not make heads or tails about what had happened to them prior to this morning meeting. Were they ex-lovers reconciling? Or long-term lovers in the middle of discussing the next stage? Whatever it was, was that not love though? To speak in a language only the two of you could understand? 

She turned away from them, giving them privacy as other customers started meandering into the cafe. Let them have their moment. Let them speak in looks and gazes and intertwined fingers from across a table. The cafe would bear witness to this couple and all that comes after as it had done for hundreds of couples prior to them. That’s why she had started this cafe after all. A fortune teller had told her a while back that this was an auspicious point in the city, a perfect place for meeting points and changing fates, and that she would do well to open something there as she had a propensity to facilitate the auspicious into becoming reality. And she was a romantic at heart. So she had taken the fortune teller's word as truth by starting this cafe that had become a mainstay in the city for those looking to change their fate in a romantic sense, quickly becoming a favorite urban legend: if you had your first date here, you'd be guaranteed to be wed within the year.

For the next month, the couple arrived separately everyday to have breakfast together.

For a week after that, they then started arriving together. Then they bid the chef goodbye; they were finished with their work in the city and had to go off on their next travels.

A year after that was when she next spotted them again, entering her cafe hand in hand with matching bands on their left hand.