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Chapter Text

Dainsleif was never one to shirk on his duties, No matter what he was ordered to do, he’d carry it out as best as he can, with his full devotion. Today though was a lot less busy than he’d expected, having been put on guard duty to the palace court instead. There wasn’t much to do other than stand under the blazing hot sun that scorched the earth. Palace workers scurried about carrying garden shears, broomsticks, or carts full of food. The occasional politician would saunter in, or a friend of the royal family’s.

The passing heads and people turned into a blur, and he fought the urge to yawn.

“Look at you, stoic as ever.”

The familiar voice snaps him back, and he stiffens, realizing who it was. He turns his eyes down to look at the woman before him.

Her shoulder-length wavy hair curled around her cheeks, framing her face as the color shined with a sparkle that could only be blessed by the stars. A bright smile paints her face, full of tricks and fun, and in her arms were a bundle of scrolls.

“Rhinedottir,” he said monotonously.

“You should come to watch the show today.”

The show, being her unveiling her latest creation to all of the court and the royals themselves. He’d heard rumors of the spectacles, animals springing back from the dead, sentient objects, mechanical weaponry that blasted deadly orbs of energy farmed from starlight. She was one of the most intelligent people in all the land, able to work with anything she’s given.

A passing whisper the other day spoke of impossible things that could come true with just a touch of her hand.

It’s ridiculous. He gave her credit for being able to do anything she put her mind to, but even that was far-fetched. She never seemed to mind it though, reveling in all the attention thrown her way. It’s just how she was. How she’ll always be.

“His Majesty has ordered me to guard the court.”

A cruel grin lights up her face, looking at him like how she looked at her experiments. He didn’t like it. “Of course. Your loyalty is truly something worth the highest of all admiration.” She’s mocking him.

“I’m merely fulfilling my duty.”

“Yes,” she replied, her smile growing wider. “Your duty.” With that, she leaves, brushing past him.

Whatever she thought up of now, he could only hope it didn’t involve him. Because that look on her face meant she’s set on going through with some bizarre plan. He knew her enough to always remember that. He fumbled for the day they met. It’s always something that the people obsessed over, all their firsts. It’s important to them, probably because it carries sentiment but he had better things to worry about.

He can’t remember when they began talking, although it definitely wasn’t him who started the conversation.

Chapter Text

“We’re short on hands. His Majesty has ordered for the best knights to guard the show today.” 

Dainsleif, blinked, stunned. “What do you mean?” There are more than enough hands everywhere. Khaenri’ah’s pride lies in their strength, or at least partially. 

“The Alchemist’s creation is more dangerous than the rest. She’ll have it under control if something goes wrong, but fewer people will get hurt if we stationed some of the knights there.” 

He swallowed, thinking about the grin she’d thrown his way in the afternoon. A scratching irritation claws at his chest. Because of her, now he won’t get home in time for dinner. And he hadn’t eaten anything all day. But if the king had ordered it, he’ll take it gladly. 

All along the halls to the throne room, Rhinedottir’s words haunted him, a ghostly echo ringing in his ears. 

Your duty.

As he continued down, a crowd formed, lazily spilling inside, excited chatter filling the air. Annoyed, he eyes the balcony at which he’s supposed to be stationed at; if he could even get there. He wades through the sea of robes, of babies and children hoisted up and grabbing at anything that moves. One kid grabs at his cape, tugging at it. Another reaches to grab at his hair and judging by how hard the thing wanted to, he was certain they could have torn some from his scalp. 

Finally, he makes it through the crowd, stumbling out like he’d just been tossed around. The throne room dims as the curtains begin to draw. He raced up a flight of stairs, skipping steps as he went. Rounding the corner, he finally staggers into place, composed and graceful, trying to hide the fact he’s heaving. 

His stomach grumbles rather loudly. A knight stationed on the balcony next to him gives him a side-eye. He stood motionless, heat flushing in his cheeks. Trying not to think of how hungry he is, he turns his attention to the middle of the room. 

A giant white cloth covers the spectacle for the night and a sweet-scented perfume makes him cough a little. 

The royal family appears, adorned with robes and capes made from the stars, woven from the abyssal night. Shades of light and color dance off the gemstones sewn into the fabric, shimmering with the very essence that keeps his country alive. They were beautiful, all of them, in every which way. Nothing and no one can ever come close.

He’d only seen them a couple of times. But he was always too young to recall what they looked like. His parents had told him that the reason he can’t remember was that their beauty was blinding. Stories of people entering the palace and forgetting were common and only those who saw the royal family every day could keep their memory of them intact. 

King Alberich raised a hand. The room falls silent, ready to hang onto his every word. “To the people, old and new. Welcome. For those who don’t already know who I am, well, I’m the king.” His voice was deep, every inch of it covered with glory, almost like the stars had blessed him with a melodic tone. 

A muted laughter fills the air with pure delight at his charm. 

“We have a special guest tonight as you all are aware. One that has disappeared from the public eye for an entire year, working day and night on her latest contribution to the dynasty.” The king smiles, and Dainsleif catches his glance flickering to the side as he speaks. “Step forth, Rhinedottir, pride of our great nation.” 

The command beckons the woman, who bows before the king before twirling around in a flourish.

He’d heard many things about her creations, but even more about her. She had a hand in everything, whether that be dance, art, or whatever else caught her attention. Her specialty was creating, but above all, there’s one thing the rumors got right about her. 

She knew how to put on a show. 

“My dear, citizens of the great Eclipse!” Her voice rings, bright and merry, pulling the crowd into a trance. “I’ve toiled every hour, every minute and have dedicated the months of this grueling year towards this moment!” There’s a playful tone to it, gesturing wildly and putting on a dramatic air. 

The needless exaggeration would have been almost comical if he wasn’t focusing on the royal family. 

Shades of blue abyssal night were neatly brushed or braided, nets of jewels and pearls decorating them. Their brown skin contrasted the shine flawlessly on each of their faces and at one point he thought there were stars painted on. 

A movement from the balcony across finally draws his attention, though he doesn’t know how. He looks up and in the distance, someone’s waving with excited fervor at him. At first, he dismissed it, probably thinking they were just some other random kid. But then he narrowed his eyes, squinting. 

The girl was nearly bouncing off the walls, waving both hands in the air. Her white-blond hair pulled back neatly as a dark blue color that rivaled the Eclipse was staring madly at him. 

He swore his soul left him. 

“Stop!” he hissed under his breath, casting a panicked glance at the royal family. “Stop it!” 

But she wasn’t satisfied at just being recognized by him. Instead, she covered her mouth giggling at the sheer amount of stress she’d just caused. Rhinedottir’s still circling her unveiled project, the family’s eyes were still on it. But it’s only a matter of time before someone noticed a frenzied girl that was now moving to make obscene gestures.

She pointed at him. Then The Alchemist. Then clasped her hands, making a kissy face. 

The knight next to him was now passing glances at them, back and forth. 

He wanted to evaporate. 

“Asmoday!” He glared at her, spitting out her name and hoping it was enough to get her to sit down and shut up. 

Finally showing her mercy, she slumps down into her seat, the evil smile annoying him even further. 

“May this serve the everlasting Eclipse and bring glory to Khaenri’ah!” With one swipe, Rhinedottir removes the cloth, eliciting a gasp and murmurs from the crowd. The family’s eyes widened, staring at the thing in front of them. 

“This, my king, is a Field Tiller, designed to crush whoever stands in your way. No one would be able to get past even with only ten of these. Name whatever you wish to be wiped off all the land, and it shall be done.”  

“Whoever?” the king raises a brow. He doesn’t seem to be opposing this or showing any hostility towards her. Rather, he sounds curious. Morbidly curious. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

A pause follows and even Dainsleif finds himself holding his breath. Not a thing moved in the room as they waited for his judgment. And when he speaks, his voice rings loud and clear.

“Even the gods?”

If the throne room was silent before, it got even quieter now. He didn’t even know how it was possible. But it was and the question drew a rapid-fire of scenarios in which he saw himself fighting everything under the sun. He didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t rush to do his king’s bidding. 

What he wondered was if he’d even stand a chance against them. What can a spear or a sword do against an almighty entity that no one in Khaenri’ah had ever seen before? 

“That, Your Majesty, will be tonight’s spectacle.”

She’s going to shoot down the heavens. 

His throat dries up, remembering again, her devious smile. She’s bold, but only ever as bold as the king allows her to be. Despite that, she’s not known to stay within the confines of the law or any rules. There’s a game she likes to play, one that borders on the very edge, fooling with the scales of balance. It tips steeply towards one side, then the other, all at her control. 

It’s thrilling.  

But if she’s going to bring the sky falling down she could at least do it outside. The king loved the arts and he wouldn’t take it very well if the stained glass ceiling of the throne room were to shower him and his guests in dangerous shards. 

“Rhinedottir.” A cold warning echoes in the room and even he shuddered at the thought of it being aimed towards him. 

She’s unfazed. “Lights, Your Majesty. Lights.”

At this, his expression softens again, nodding at her. 

The Field Tiller twists around and arches back. Something mechanical shifts, then locks into place. Its arms stretch out, acting as a pillar, to keep it from falling over. The Alchemist circles around it one more time, checking to make sure everything’s in place. Dainsleif stares uneasily at the machine, wondering why he suddenly wants to jump from the balcony.

It’s not until Rhinedottir passes him a crazed look that he understands. The smile he saw from this afternoon is as clear as day, only now her eyes have frozen him to the spot, deep pools of gold and teetering insanity pulling him in. 

She’d done this. It wasn’t the king who’d ordered that the best knights be stationed to guard the show. It was her. She was the one who’d requested that and His Majesty was more than willing to oblige. It was so he could be here for tonight. To watch her. She’d wanted him to be here for this very moment to watch her show who she truly was. Who she could truly be. 

He’s staring down the barrel of her machine, directly in the path of whatever’s going to be shot out of the cannon. By order of the king, he can’t move and she had the king and the royal family wrapped around her fingers. 

He’s at her full mercy. 

“I’d like to share my accomplishments and credit with the people of the Eclipse. I wouldn’t have done it without all of your support, including our everlasting dynasty. But tonight, I’d like to give my special thanks to the knights.” She stares right through him. “Without their devotion, we would not have glory. The duty they have to uphold is no small task.” 

She raises a hand, fingers clasped around a trigger. 

He can’t move, too stunned to even think coherently. It’s like she’s speaking right at him, in front of everybody. 

“Their loyalty is truly something worth all the praise,” Her gaze never leaves him, locking him into place. Something’s pounding ferociously in his chest.

“And the highest of all admiration.” 

An explosion roars in his ears, a blinding white light taking away all of his senses as he grips the weapon in his hand, instinct surging inside of him. All of his thoughts turn towards the king, and he nearly wheels around to rush up the stage until he glimpses the royal family’s smile. 

They’re delighted. 

He’s left reeling, the ground swaying slightly underneath. He swallows, trying to breathe as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

Fireworks. 

The same frenzied movement comes from the balcony again and this time, he doesn’t care. Most of the crowd was jostling each other, trying to get a better look. Asmoday’s clapping and jumping would be understandable. 

It’s Rhinedottir he’s worried about. 

The woman catches his death glare. Then merely smiles, giggling like she hadn’t just taken away sixty years of his life span. With every explosion of light, it reflects off her eyes, the very ones that kept him in place right before she’d pressed the trigger. Pools of color swirl around and when she turns away to admire her work, he wondered, for a brief moment if he hadn’t somehow dreamed her up. 

He wondered if she was real. 

Chapter Text

“Ow!”

“Quit fussing!”

“I would if you weren’t tearing the hair off my scalp!” his sister snapped. 

He sighed, tugging just as hard as before and she finally slaps his hand away. “If you don’t sit still, we’re going to be late.”

“Who’s fault is that?” 

The door opens and Rhinedottir leans against the frame, a smirk hidden beneath the smile aimed at him. “Some of us need our beauty sleep, Dain.”

“That doesn’t sound like my problem,” he retorted, setting down the brush. 

“My, my,” she says, slipping into the room. “I pity your sister for having to put up with you.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

She whisked past him, picking up the brush. “Let’s see what we have here, sweetheart. Is he always so rough?” 

“Yes! He doesn’t know a thing about it and it’s a miracle he even has hair right now!”

Appalled, he takes a step back. The Alchemist turns to him as she begins brushing, much gentler than he had. “Now Dainsleif, don’t take it to heart.”

“He should!”

“I’ll throw you into the Abyss.” 

“Not if I do it first!” 

“So Asmoday, what would you like me to do?” she quickly cuts in, breaking up the argument. 

“Something pretty.”

“Well, there are lots of things that are pretty.” There’s a glint in her eyes as she speaks. The same one she has whenever she’s looking at an experiment gone right. “What matters is how pretty something can be.”

“I want to shine as bright as the Eclipse.”

“Good luck with that.” 

His sister glares at him. 

“Ambitious,” Rhinedottir says. “I like it.”

She flushed. “Thank you.”

“Does your brother have any ambition?” she asked as if he’s not in the room at all.

“Hah. The only thing he knows how to do is serve the dynasty.”

“It’s the best thing anyone in Khaenri’ah can be. I can’t recall you ever signing up to be a knight,” Dainsleif snapped. 

“He’s right, Asmoday. And wrong.” Her hands gently pins a few strands of hair behind and somehow the way she says it makes him want to slap them away from his sister. It’s unreasonable. He can’t place why The Alchemist makes him so uneasy. “Don’t you think, you can be more?”

“What do you mean?”

“You, my sweet, need to aim higher. Don’t just shine as bright as the Eclipse. Your brother’s already doing that.” 

His sister’s eyes widened, and he shoots a glance at her, eyes lighting up for some idiotic reason. 

“Don’t you want to step out of his shadow? Become something that can bring more glory than this dynasty ever will?”

Dainsleif draws his sword. Her words are borderline treasonous. 

This, however, only makes her laugh. “Do you see now, Asmoday?”

Luckily his sister still had some sense to not echo any of her sentiments even if it did resonate with her. “No, Rhine.” She stares at him, giddy. “I don’t see.”

“Tsk.” The Alchemist smiles fondly at her. As if she’s her sister and not his. “A shame, really.” She pins the last of her platinum blond hair and turns her to the mirror. 

While Asmoday beams at her appearance, Rhinedottir looks back at him, that dangerous glimmer showing again. “Put away your weapon, Dain. Don’t be so dramatic.” 

It irked him even more. The fact that neither of them cared when he drew his blade meant he’s not doing his job well. 

“Well then, I have more pressing matters to attend to. Come visit me sometime, Asmoday.” 

“Of course!” 

The door closes after one more look from her golden eyes. 

His sister whips around. “Did you hear that?!” 

“What? The words that could put her in a dungeon?”

“No, she said that you shine as bright as the Eclipse! Do you know what that means?”

He stares at her, exasperated. “Was that all you got from that? She was trying to brainwash you.”

“Shut up Dainsleif. She said you shine as bright as the Eclipse!” she repeated as excited as before. “Do you know what that means?”

“No, and I don’t care to.”

“She likes you!” 

Now he questioned whether she was as smart as he thought she was a moment before. “You’re kidding.”

She only laughed, then followed suit, slamming the door shut in his face. 

. . .

He didn’t know how it happened. 

Rhinedottir from that day on would show up in the morning, ready to take his sister out to do some shopping or whatever else. While he got ready to work, Asmoday was preparing to spend the whole day with her. 

“What are you doing?” He’d come down to the kitchen to find his sister stuffing a bunch of empty jars into a bag, the glass clinking against each other. 

“Rhine needs a bunch of containers to hold what she’s working on right now.” Her eyes turns toward one of the bigger ones on the top shelf. She reached up, but it’s clearly too high for her. 

“And what’s that?” He grabs it for her instead. 

“That’s none of your business.”

Dainsleif puts the jar back, earning him a slap to the shoulder. 

“Come on!” she whined, her voice annoying him even more. 

“Get it yourself.”

Groaning, she pulls a chair up against the counter to reach it. “You need to lighten up more.”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Running a hand through his hair, he grabs their breakfast from the small icebox; bread, cheese and some cooked meat. “What’s she working on?” he repeated. It always seemed to work if he asked twice. She couldn’t keep a lie to save her life. 

“It’s something special,” she says, completely forgetting she’s not supposed to say anything. “We want to surprise everyone.” An ecstatic grin lights up her face. 

The last time that happened, he thought he died. “As in…”

“No fireworks. That gets boring.” She pushes the chair back into place. “Don’t make my breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Rhine wants to show me a new shop she found.”

“You’re eating breakfast here.”

“Dain!”

“Asmoday.”

Grumbling, she slumps into a seat. The thought of her going out with that woman was enough to kick in his fight or flight. He didn’t need her eating with the Alchemist. She could poison her food. Paranoia follows him, wherever he goes, never once leaving him since the day she’d showed up and whisked his sister away. 

Biting spitefully into his sandwich, he watched her fight to keep that pout on her face, only to let it fall away a second later. If there was one thing his sister never complained about it was his food. 

They eat in silence for a while. Asmoday slips into her head, eyes gazing to the side, then the ceiling. It was something he’d noticed over the years, along with various other things.

She’d jump when she was excited, or clasp her hands together to put on a fake air of significance. Now he could only wonder what she was thinking.

He hoped it wasn’t anything that Rhinedottir had said, no matter what it was. “What has she been telling you?”

“Why do you care?” 

“Because she could be feeding you lies.” 

“Like what?”

“Something that’ll make you do whatever she asks of you. Like a dog.”

“If we’re talking about dogs, I’d say you’re more like one than I am.”

He freezes, his breakfast halfway to his mouth and sets it down. “What did you just say?”

“It’s true isn’t it?” She says, not sparing him a glance. “To be honest, I can’t remember a time where work and duty didn’t consume you.” 

The response stuns him into silence. Anger and hurt swelled as he stared at his sister in disbelief. Opening his mouth, he tried to find something to say. Nothing. She was right because when was the last time he’d spoken about anything other than the Eclipse? He hated it. Hated that she was right. 

“Take it back.”

She finished her sandwich as if what she’d just said didn’t just gut him from the inside out. “Fine then. I take it back.”

“Not like that.”

“Then like what?” She pushed the chair back in place, heading towards the sink. 

He doesn’t get a chance to answer because a knocking comes from the door. One that he dreads every single day and loathes even more at this very moment. He stands up. “You’re not going with her.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re not going.” 

She blinked, giving him the same look he had on moments before. “But she needs me to help her out today.”

“That’s not the point!” 

“Then what, Dain?! Is it the fact that I have a shitty older brother who doesn’t give a damn about what I want?!” she snapped. “Or maybe that when someone finally understands me, you decide to take it away!” 

“What part of you do you want to be understood? Treason?!”

“Everything is about the royal family with you!” she screams, the high-pitch piercing the air. “It’s literally the only thing you talk about and it’s been the only thing you ever talk about! King this, king that, His Majesty, Her Majesty- who gives a fuck, Dain?! I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you!” 

“Asmoday-”

“Shut up! I don’t give a shit if what I’m saying is treason!”

“That’s not-”

“I hate it. I hate it here, and I hate you.” She flies past him, storming to the door and swinging it wide open to a stunned Rhinedottir. 

“Wait-”

“You suffocate me.” The door slams in his face, leaving him alone with the echoes of her words. 

He sinks into his chair, burying his face into his hands. 

Chapter Text

It was the first time he thought of anything else besides what he was doing while he’s standing guard at the palace. For the first few hours, as he watched the people passing by, a storm of emotions had kicked up inside as he tried to process her words. Blinding anger that made his fingers twitch ever so slightly. Hurt that cut so deep it brought tears to his eyes. Then shifting the blame, trying to pin it on someone. Trying to pin it on the Alchemist. 

The rage peaked then subsided, peaking again like the pulsating shine on the king’s crown. And there he goes again, thinking of the royal family. But gradually, ever so slowly, he realized he had no one to blame but himself. 

And that’s so much worse. 

A guard taps him on the shoulder, snapping him back to the present. From inside the black metallic helmet, the voice echoes, issuing his next task. “You’re to accompany His Majesty on the other side.”

“Is that all?”

Taking his place, the man says no more, leaving Dainsleif to try and figure out where the king was. 

He rushed inside, the soles of his shoes clacking on the white marble floor as he went. Chatter from nobles and politicians faded into obscurity as he crossed from room to room, down the halls adorned with tapestries, banners and the shine of stars. Walls and pillars tinted the lightest shade of blue loomed over him as large stained glass windows spilled daylight in. The sheer size and grandness of it all never ceases to take away his breath. If his sister were here, she’d be rooted into place, eyes wide, trying to process everything. 

King Alberich was in the palace garden, speaking with someone. 

The scent of flowers hit him first, cool mist and sweet fragrances all mixing into one giant intoxicating gas that engulfed every corner. He fought the urge to cough as his lungs tightened from the sudden change. Bright colors and magic spilled from the cores of every plant outside, sprinkling him with some of its dust. The powder would be a hassle to wash off. 

By the time he reached the king, a lightheadedness had taken over. Swallowing hard, he gripped the handle of his spear tighter as he clanked it on the ground, drawing his attention. 

He holds up a hand to acknowledge him and continues to talk. 

“Around a year and a half, Your Majesty.”

“That quick?” There’s a shuffling of papers that Dainsleif can’t see. He can’t even see who he’s talking to but the voice sounds eerily familiar. “Well, with a pair of extra hands I’m sure a lot has been taken off of her shoulders.” It’s the warmest he’s ever heard the man speak, less regal and more… like someone who bore no title at all. 

“She’d be honored  to have your support for this project and the next.”

Asmoday.

Her voice jolted him awake, sobering him from the fumes of the garden. What was she doing here? But then, maybe it wasn’t her. It could be someone else. There are plenty of people who sound similar to each other. 

Then he steps aside.

It’s her. 

Her face drops as they stare at each other, again in utter disbelief. Moreso her than him. Barely anybody can read his expression under the helmet but she’s seen his armor and uniform enough to know every single scratch and tatter. 

Luckily the king was focused on him, smiling as he waved for him to stand by his side. It gives her enough time to cover up the shock. 

“Well, then you can go back to her with good news. Whatever funding she needs, have her send me another message.” 

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty.” 

When he dismisses her, she bows and scurries away. Her eyes are shimmering with tears. A lump forms in his throat. But there’s no time to dwell on the past, because the king is moving forward and he needs to be at his side. 

“What’s your name?”

“Dainsleif, Your Majesty.” 

The king paused, stopping in front of a mistflower. “How’s your family?”

The question throws him off for a moment. “Alright.”

He raised a brow. “Your sister seems otherwise.” 

A cold shock springs forth on him, as he scrambled for something to say. “I didn’t notice.” Hopefully he didn’t take her sudden shock as a slight against him. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, leaving Dainsleif to simmer in the thought that he might have done something wrong. If the king were to scold him for being a bad brother as well, he might as well hand in his resignation letter now. 

“Do you see this flower?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“It’s freezing, numbing, yet it never withers and never falters in its will to live. A thing like this should not be able to exist due to the extreme conditions its put under. Yet here we are, standing in this garden and admiring them.” 

“It is indeed beautiful, Your Majesty.”

“On the other hand, the Flaming Flower burns everything away into ash. They’re part of the same family you see, and in the end, it’ll destroy even itself. That’s why it’s so important to take care of the problem as soon as possible, to root it out before it could destroy the rest. One is always the others’ weakness. It’s just a matter of who will kill the other first. Because only then can they survive.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, already knowing this. It’s part of the reason why the two flowers have evolved to grow away from each other. 

“This is what you need to be, knight, swift and merciless. Never forget your duty to us and never forget your position, lest the mistake of sympathy destroys us all. Do you remember what that is?”

“I’m a Black Serpent Knight, my king.” 

“And your duty?”

“Strike down our enemies, strong and true. Show them our glory.” It’s been drilled into him since the day he was admitted. But now some kind of horrible dread is building up in his gut. As if saying those very words would condemn him or someone. 

The king smiled and stepped away from him for a moment. “Will you be loyal to us until the very end?”

His throat goes dry, wondering if there’s some assassin or group of rebels he might have to take out. Doing so would be easy enough. He drops down on one knee, lowering his head and closing his eyes. “Rest assured, you have my name, my life to do with as you please. Speak the word and I will have our enemies cut down in less than a breath. This is my only duty as your citizen and your knight. I wish for nothing more than to serve the Eclipse.” 

“Very well.” His voice softens. There’s an edge to it that Dainsleif can’t place. “I don’t doubt you. But your words need a solid foundation to hold true. I need proof.”

“What would you have me do?”

“I’ll have you wait for now. When the time comes, I’ll tell you.” He puts a hand on his head, cueing him to stand. It’s cold, mind-numbingly cold from the touch of the mist flower. For a moment, he felt like they were claws, ready to tear his head from his body. 

Facing the king again, he finds his freezing gaze on him. He shuddered. “Ask for another guard from the gates. It doesn’t matter who.” He turns and starts for the door. “Don’t follow me.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The king pauses one last time, not sparing him a glance. And when he speaks, Dainsleif feels the ground falling away.

“Keep an eye on your sister.”

Chapter Text

No matter how much he tried to forget it, the king’s words followed him wherever he went. And no matter how much time had passed, it stayed, preoccupying his mind even more. It’s not what Asmoday would have wanted. 

So when the queen asked for him next, he wondered what other thing she’d say that would stick to him as well. He never took her to be just like her husband, and heard that she was much kinder. Still, an Alberich was an Alberich, and the royal family had always ruled with an iron fist. From the stories he heard though, this one was much gentler than the previous but it was only owing to their forbearers that Khaenri’ah saw so much glory it does today. 

The king isn’t sitting there in the throne room. The queen however, stands upon seeing him. 

He quickly drops to his knees at the bottom of the steps leading up to her. “Your Majesty.”

“Stand, Dainsleif.”

She knew his name. He didn’t know how to feel about that, remembering the last time a royal family member had said it. 

His queen defied all humanly beauty, her whole being transcending into something else entirely. She was ethereal, and there’s always some kind of glow emanating from behind her. It cast something unreal, something that both struck fear and awe, just the slightest hint of it inside of him. 

“Black Serpent Knight. Captain.” She descended the steps, almost like one of the gods that the land above worshipped. Her voice rung in his ears like sweet honey. “Look at me.”

Clenching his jaw, he faces her.

Her abyssal dark eyes nearly drown him. There’s a faint throbbing at the back of his head. When she’s halfway down, she stops, pausing to stare at him even harder than before. He struggled to keep his gaze on her. The king was beautiful. But the queen was unrivaled. 

There’s a shift in her expression, a stone cold one that mirrored her husband’s. 

“Your will falters,” she says, continuing down the steps. “It wavers.” 

Fear. An undeniable, growing fear as the woman descends. He doesn’t know what he’s so afraid of. He has nothing to hide. There’s nothing but duty and loyalty in his heart. Nothing can sway him from that. It’s all he has. It’s who he is, at the very core. Yet a terror, one that he’s never felt before swells in size, drying his throat and pounding in his chest. 

“Why?”

That one word sends him down to one knee again, words tumbling out of his mouth before he even knew it. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. My only purpose and reason for living is to serve you, the Eclipse. Nothing can keep me from my duty, no matter what. If you so ask, I will give up everything and all that I am without any hesitation. I am yours and the Eclipse’s to do with as you please.” His voice cracks just the slightest. He heaves. Why is he breathing so heavy? 

A terrifying moment passes in which he waits for the queen’s verdict on his shameful outburst. Then, “Did I tell you to kneel?”

He shoots up. “I-I apologize-”

“It pains me to see my people fearful of us. Wipe that look off your face before you follow me through the halls.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He quickly scurries behind her, tightening his expression then relaxing it. 

They cross the throne room, back out into the hall he’d come from. 

“Tell me about your family, captain.”

He swallowed. The last time he’d told someone, they’d left him with haunting words. “I have a little sister that I take care of, Your Majesty.”

The queen chuckled to herself. “Good. And your loyalties, my knight?”

“With the Eclipse and the royal family until my end.”

“Very well.” She’d led him to the west wing, locked and forbidden. “Relax. You don’t need to prove that to me.” Turning a key, the giant tinted marble shakes the ground as it opens, scraping the floor. The queen frowns. “We’ll have to get that fixed.”

He whips around, ready to find someone who could do it. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Your task is to guard me.” 

Freezing in his tracks, he turns slowly back around, the same fear crawling up again. Her voice was powerful. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She breaks out into a shining, gorgeous smile. “Come in.” 

He steps inside, eyes wandering around the smaller room. Tapestries are hung up, though they were now more bright and colorful. A crib is pushed to one corner, the curtains are strung up and children’s toys are scattered everywhere, all over the place. 

A toddler’s cry pierces the air. 

“Meet my son. Kaeya.”

The kid held the same glow as his mother but his hair was a darker shade of blue just like his father’s. And if he thought that the eyes of the royal family couldn’t get any darker, he was wrong. An endless abyss is contained within his iris, swirling stars and a shimmering cosmos drowning him, once more. 

Kaeya smiled, reaching out with his tiny hands, trying to grab him as all toddlers do. It robbed Dainsleif of the ability to speak. And think. He froze on the spot, stiff as a board, eliciting a laugh from the queen, bright and melodic. 

“He likes you, captain. You won’t decline your prince’s request would you?”

“I’m not sure if I can come close-”

“Nonsense, he’s a child, Dainsleif, not glass.” She moves closer to him, holding the kid up. “Go ahead.” 

He raised a hand cautiously, as if at any moment, despite her words, the toddler might break. The kid held beauty, just like his parents, shining with the legacy of all those that came before him. Compared to himself, his hands were rough and uneven, starkly contrasting Kaeya’s soft babyskin. 

The kid grabbed his finger so suddenly he almost flinched. Blinking in disbelief he watched as the prince wiggled it around, then opened his hand up to examine it. “He’s warmed up to you quicker than I thought he would,” said the queen. 

Kaeya bit him. 

A horrified expression draws on her face. “Oh my-” 

“It’s alright, Your Majesty.” He thought back to Asmoday. The prince was a lot like her now that he thought of it. “My sister was a biter as well.” 

Quickly pulling Dainsleif’s bloodied finger from her son's mouth, she shoves a tissue on top of the wound before setting Kaeya down in the crib again. “That’s why I brought you here,” she replies, dropping a stuffed animal next to him. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Heed my order.” 

He drops to one knee again, bowing his head. 

“From this day onward, your life will be dedicated to the prince, the heir of this nation.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Stand.”

When he does, the queen is right there in front of him, looking at him with an expression he can’t read. But it’s the same as Rhinedottir’s. 

It’s like she wants to see how this will play out. 

“Don’t fail us.” 

Chapter Text

They slipped into a perpetual monotony, barely exchanging a few words in a day. Work kept them both busy, further adding to the tension and hurt, dividing them. It was a chasm they both found hard to cross. 

For some reason, he could never bring himself to ask her how she was doing. Whenever he tried, words would fail and then she was gone. He thought about asking Rhinedottir, although he didn’t like that woman, his grievances could be pushed aside for now. 

But the Alchemist had all but disappeared, back to whatever lab she came from. He didn’t like the fact that the palace felt more empty without her. 

Spring in Khaenri’ah was always marked by torrential rain, with the water beating down on the entire nation. It’s unrelenting, ruthless, and he remembered distinctly when he was younger just how high the floodwater was in the lower parts of the capital. It traveled all the way up to his waist, and he remembered just how hard he had to hold onto something or someone to withstand the rushing currents. But with the floods came a myriad of emotions among the people. Joy, annoyance, hope. 

He didn’t know how to feel about it now, as he trudged through the streets, the rainwater soaking him to the bone. But neither he nor Asmoday ever minded. She always loved making a mess of things and would never take an umbrella with her no matter how much he pleaded. 

He unlocks the door and quickly goes inside, taking off his helmet and shaking it by the entrance. Unclasping his shoulder guard, he dumps a pool of water outside before shutting it. He’s drenched, rainwater dripping from his hair, clothes, and weapon and just as he kicks off his boots, there’s a knock. 

“Come in!” he called out. 

Asmoday’s completely dry. There’s an umbrella in one hand and a bag in the other and to his relief, she’s perfectly fine and safe from catching a cold. It was strange that she’d wanted to stay dry; the harder the rain falls the more she would have liked have the rain batter her face. 

But what worried him was the look on her face. 

He immediately stiffens, crossing the kitchen as quick as he could. 

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “I forgot the keys.” Her voice wobbles as if it’s being restrained by something. 

“Asmoday-”

“I’m sorry.” Her lips are trembling and she holds up the bag to him, setting off warning bells inside his head. 

“What’s wrong?” He scans for any injuries, turning her around and looking for any sign she’d been followed. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No.” She cracks, a sob escaping her before she muffles it with a hand. “I got you cake.” 

He blinked, trying to process his sister who’s on the verge of tears and the words that just came out of her mouth. Steeling herself, she speaks again as he takes the bag from her and sets it gently on the table. “It’s your favorite.” 

That’s when she loses it, tears streaming freely from her eyes in wretched sobs. Each gasp of breath struck him like a knife to the chest as he watched her crumble into a mess. A lump forms in his throat as all the hurt threatens to spill out, he can barely breathe himself. 

He rushes for some tissues, awkwardly trying to help her wipe it all away. Through it all, she’s still trying to speak, rushing words and disconnected sentences. “The bakery was open… the cake- it was made this morning… lots of frosting.”

All of this combined, if it weren’t so serious, was ridiculous. He knew what she wanted to mean by the gesture, and it more than forgave her for what she’d said. She didn’t even need to do this; he should have apologized first. But he didn’t. 

So here she was, her body shaking with sobs as she cried over cake. 

He snorted, fighting every part of his being to keep his poker face intact. 

Sniffling, her eyes shot up. 

It’s like a loaded cannon and he stops, leaning on the counter, trying to hide his face. 

“Dainsleif?” she whimpered.

He wheezes, unable to control it any longer as he inhales sharply. 

“Are you laughing?!” She jabbed him hard between the ribs and finally he explodes into laughter, the sound of it drowning out her hiccups and sniffles. “Stop!” Slowly but surely, there’s a smile in her voice. “Dain!” There’s one on her face too. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” Burying his face into his hands, he hears her wheezing right next to him, descending them into a spiral they can’t get out of. Everytime he looked up, they were right back at the beginning, until his sides and lungs burned from the lack of air. “I’m sorry, As-”

“Shut up, shut up I can’t breathe.” 

“It’s cake, Azzy, cake.”

His sister pushes the hair from her face as she laughs even more, reaching out to elbow his side to silence him. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“You said, ‘lots of frosting’ I-”

She jabbed him in the diaphragm, and he trips onto the ground, breathless, still unable to control it. “What about the face you made when I held that umbrella?!” For a moment when he glanced up, she pulled her expression into the most serious and concerned face he’d ever seen before cracking up again. 

“You’re one to talk! Showing up at the door looking like someone kicked you!” 

The laughter finally dies, leaving them both winded and him, on the floor of their kitchen. 

“Get up, you look like someone used you as a mop.”

“This is your fault.”

She grabbed his hand, trying to pull him onto his feet. “Okay, now be serious for a second.”

“One.”

“Dainsleif.” 

“Okay, okay.” He inhaled, then relaxed. “What is it?”

She looked down like she didn’t want to see his reaction in case he doesn’t like what she’s about to say. “The thing I’ve been working on with Rhinedottir.”

He goes rigid, the air seemingly sucked out of the room as suspicion replaced what had just happened moments before. 

“I want you to come tomorrow.”

“The selection ceremony? Of course I will.” It’s all anyone’s been talking about. 

She shakes her head. “No, not that. Before. I want you to come to the show before the ceremony begins. And after. I want you to stay for it.”

He still didn’t like the Alchemist. And the last time he was at one of her shows, he got a face full of fireworks that nearly took out his hearing. But if it’s his sister asking then it’s a whole different story. What Rhinedottir’s doing is dangerous, but if it’s what Asmoday wants to do, he can’t stop her. Not anymore. 

She’s grown now. She knows how to protect herself even if he’s not there. “Sure.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

“Don’t make me say it twice.” 

Giddy with pure excitement, she grabs the drenched armor from him as he unclasps it and sets it all down by the doorway to be dried later. He opens the bag. 

A triple-layered, chocolate frosted cake sits there, waiting to be eaten. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

He turns and grabs a couple of plates from the cupboard. “This is going to be our dinner.”

And a brighter smile draws on her face, one that he hadn’t seen in such a long time. 

. . .

The throne room’s washed in glorious hues of blue, shades of all the night decorating every inch. Flowers of every kind burst from the balconies, pouring over the sides and once again, the smell of it suffocated him although it was significantly less than the garden itself. Once again, a giant white cloth covers Rhine’s latest creation. To the right is a platform, built for the people who were nominated to fulfill whatever role or task the king had for them this year. 

His sister being one of them. 

He’d been brought in to guard the show again only this time, as one of the only family members of the nominees, he stands in the crowd, keeping order from there instead. They jostled him, trying to get a better look at the stage before the ceremony, fighting to get closer. Unlike last time, the shape of the cloth wasn’t clumped in strange parts; it was more rectangular and he could make out the faint edges of a cage underneath. 

The crowd swells as the nominees take their place on the platform, a few cheers and names going up, though there weren’t much. Most of them were here for Rhine. 

He pushes his way closer to the platform. Despite all the guards at the show being trained and among the best, he still can’t help but worry. With a hand on the hilt of his sword, he manages to get close enough for Asmoday to find his head through the crowd. 

Her hair’s pinned up again, just like how her mentor always liked it. The platinum white falls over her shoulders in little waves and curls, jewels and diamonds bedazzling them. She was simple, but presentable, and the dress he picked out for her looked good among the other young women standing up there with her. She’d insisted that the Alchemist do her hair though. 

“I just want to show everyone the two people who are the most important to me.”

He still didn’t like the fact that Rhine had so much influence over his sister. “What do you mean?”

“She always makes sure I’m safe and protected in case anything goes wrong.” She frowned this morning too. “It’s such a hassle though to put on all the lenses and gloves.” 

Maybe he should give the Alchemist some credit. 

Once again, the curtains are drawn, blocking out the daylight and shrouding the whole room in darkness. A hush follows and the king speaks, his voice booming inside. 

“The stars have blessed us with another year…” 

Something skirted the edges of the room, ducking behind pillars and people. His eyes darted, trying to find it again. Had someone or something snuck in? It didn’t seem possible. An unease grew in his chest as he glanced at his sister, whose focus is on the king. There were practically stars in her eyes from the way she’s looking at the royal family. A few of the women around her giggled and whispered, teasing and pointing. 

In another circumstance, he would have sent them a death glare, but there were more pressing concerns to attend to. 

He crossed in front of the platform; it’s not blocked off from the crowd. As his hands tighten on the blade, he kept a brisk pace, hoping not to draw anyone’s attention. The last thing he wanted was for the thing to catch sight of his pursuit.

Casting a glance back at Asmoday, he made a silent promise to be back soon.

Chapter Text

He’s nowhere to be found. He’d only been here just a moment before but now he’s disappeared. 

An undeniable disappointment begins growing. She’d worked so hard the entire year for this moment, she’d just reconciled with him and now he won’t be here when they unveil her hard work. Maybe he’s still mad at her. 

That thought sinks into her stomach and twists her gut. Gripping the dress, she falls back behind the other girls as they continue watching. The king had called Rhinedottir up and as usual, her mentor was putting on an air of drama. 

He might have taken a quick bathroom break. Or maybe he’d tripped and his head will pop up once more. Yet as her eyes scan the crowd for any sign of her brother, she finds that he isn’t there. And he’d been so close to the platform too. If he’d slipped away, how could she not have noticed?

She did hear stories about the Black Serpent Knights, being able to conceal their footsteps and leaving and entering rooms like a ghost. That doesn’t sound like Dainsleif though. Whenever she wanted to sleep in late, he would make the loudest racket known to all of Khaenri’ah. Whether that was just to annoy her or it was just him, she won’t know unless she asks. 

The show continues, as the Alchemist circles around the cage. There’s an unveiling, then the ceremony, then finally, she’ll get a chance to show off to finish off the night. It’s supposed to be perfect. Her brother’s supposed to be standing there, ready to be proud of her. 

But he’s not. 

Maybe some orders had suddenly taken him away, but then what kind of orders were there to give to a knight? Sweep the floors, sharpen their weapons, shine their armor? Things like that weren’t their job and she knew well enough that Dainsleif would never accept such a mundane task outside of their home. 

The other girls, upon seeing the sudden drop in her mood, cast sympathy now instead of the teasing they’d done earlier. All their families were in the crowd, close to the podium. One of them had even lifted their baby brother and sat them down on the platform with them. 

Rhine circles it one more time, entrancing the crowd. She grabs the cloth, glancing in her direction. 

Her brother stumbles against the podium in front of her, finally back, heaving. 

The Alchemist throws it away, unveiling a giant scaly creature, spikes from the bones protruding from its joints. She catches her face; there’s no need to stare at the thing before them, she’d seen it hundreds of times before. 

Her mentor’s eyes widened, brows furrowing. 

Dread suddenly crawls into her gut. Rhine only ever had that look on her face when something horrible had gone wrong. All of it though, had surrounded the experiments, and the expression is clear while she’s trying to figure out what variable had been miscalculated.

Asmoday glances at the dragon in the cage, sleeping peacefully. The sedative didn’t seem to be wearing off yet. Everything’s perfectly fine. But she’s not looking at that, she’s looking in her direction. 

Her eyes are on Dain. 

She immediately crouches down on the podium, not caring whether anyone saw her. They were all watching as Rhine continued her speech. What’s worrying was the fact that her brother is leaning against the platform, and he never leans against anything if he could help it. He was a royal guard, used to standing long hours in front of the entrance of the palace. She knew that much about his job. 

Just as she’s about to reach out and grab his shoulder, a girl yanks her up with so much force, she stumbles. “Get up, the ceremony’s starting!” she hissed. 

Her brother swayed slightly.. Or had she imagined it? 

“For the moment all of you have been waiting for, the time has finally come.” The king’s voice speaks again, commanding and strong. “After much discussion, the young girl who will be selected to carry out my task will have the blessings of the stars, for generations to come.” 

Someone hands him a paper. 

The girls grab each other’s hands and one of them is squeezing the ever loving shit out of her’s. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease-” Whispers and prayers fill the platform as some shut their eyes, hoping that they’ll be chosen. Her brother gives her a reassuring smile. 

“Asmoday.”

Rhine’s scream pierces the air first as she watches from the platform, her mentor completely losing it. It’s soon drowned out by the crowd that had erupted into cheers. The roar that echoed in the throne room rattled her to the core, and she stands dumbfounded for a moment, suspended in disbelief. 

The girls are pushing and shoving her off and towards the king in a hurry. She doesn’t even have time to wave to Dain. A path clears, and an unrestrained joy shows itself in her walk up to the bottom of the steps. 

She kneels down, then sits, bowing her head. The world is spinning in an ecstasy she’d never felt before, pure joy and nothing else but that resonating inside of her, feeding off of her happiness. 

“Congratulations.” The king held the same warm voice as that day in the garden, when she’d given him Rhine’s report. “The night has chosen you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Come. Sit with us.” He holds out a hand, and the world slips away into that of a hazy dream. She can barely feel her feet touch the ground as she ascends the steps. And as she walks, a glow, a light emanating from the thrones nearly blind her. The moment she took it, a sudden rush of something surged inside of her. Was it adrenaline? Happiness? Was it the feeling of being overwhelmed by a greater power or entity? Either way, she can’t deny the one thought that flared violently inside; 

This was power. An all encompassing thing that could control whatever she wished. 

She won’t let go.

A flash of her brother sends her mind back to the present as the king beckons her to sit down. Guilt followed not soon after. Dainsleif would be disappointed. She quickly banished the idea from her mind, searching for any sign of him in the crowd.

Rhinedottir speaks again, commanding the whole room into silence. It was a while before she’s called down to take center stage, in front of nearly the entire nation. Putting on an awkward smile, she bounces a little on her feet, trying to calm her nerves. If everything goes according to plan, she’ll be remembered, both her and Dain will. He would be happy. Right?

The keys on the cage are turned. It’s her cue. Asmoday steps forward as the doors swing open. Everyone waits with bated breath. 

She leans in, reaching up for the snout of the dragon whose sleeping peacefully. It must have been tired after being allowed to stretch it’s wings all day yesterday. 

“Grace of stars, mortal of earth, made by mortal hands,” she whispers the blessing, taught to her by Rhine. “I call upon you to wake, glory of Khaenri’ah.” A light tap. The words were nothing more than for show yet the audience hung onto it like they were being blessed themselves. 

The creature flickers open its eyes, larger than the size of her entire head, and gazes down drowsily. She caught a glimpse of herself in its slit eyed pupils as the other knights quickly unclasps the cage and pulls it out of sight. 

A low, crackling and gravelly growl meets her, frightening a few people in the front. It blinked, then began moving. 

Her dragon slowly moves, shining scales flowing and repositioning themselves as giant stumps for legs pound onto the marble, lifting up the entirety of its body. Growls and snorts filled the air, and it stretched, eyes shut like a cat just waking from a nap. 

She can’t help but laugh as it stared back at her, wondering what she wanted. 

“Durin!” Her bright merry voice carried up into its ears. “Glory!” 

On command, it unfurls its wings, the entire span nearly shrouding the whole room. Its rough leather shined with the coat of the night, clawed talons on the ends of the joints. 

“Glory!” she repeated. 

It inhaled deeply, letting out a low, dangerous sound that would send chills up the spines of their enemies. It rattles the pillars, shakes the very foundations of the walls. She knew not to go too far, lest the stained glass ceiling be shattered completely by just the dragon’s roar alone. Rhine mentioned that it should only be used for battle too, if they were ever engulfed in a war. 

Panicked cries pushes the crowd back as they stare in awe and terror at the thing before them. It’s understandable, seeing the sheer size of the thing is enough to make anyone want to run. While some backed away in fear, others drew closer still, trying to get a good look at it. 

“Peace!” 

Durin folds back its wings, bending its knees and lowering down to the ground, just enough for Asmoday to reach up and give him a good boy pat. The dragon loved good boy pats. It stared lazily at the crowd, probably just wondering when they could go home again. It’s probably craving more sugar fish; an abomination of a meal she made one day that it seemed to take a liking to. 

At least someone liked her cooking. 

Rhine’s voice goes up again, speaking of all her achievements and announcing a list of all the things she’d helped with that would garner her more support. She’s proud of her, proud of how far she’d come in just the span of one year. One of her favorite hairpieces were woven into her head today too.

When she finds her brother at the front of the crowd, his smile is all she could think of for the rest of the show. 

Chapter Text

He coughed, muffling the sound with a sleeve as his throat scratched and itched. The Alchemist is approaching swiftly, her long white gold cloak flowing behind her, almost like the wings on the dragon they’d watched today. His sister’s still speaking with the king, as the nearly empty throne room is being cleared out. A few stragglers are still mingling, yet their chatter isn’t loud enough to cover the “Dainsleif!” that carried across the room. 

“Rhine,” he croaked, wondering what she wanted now. “Congratulations on the success of your project-”

Her hand shoots out quicker than he could think, and lifts his chin up. Shock leaves him frozen into place. “There’s a ring around your neck.” 

He blinked. How did she notice that so far from him? 

“You were strangled.” She turns his head sharply and he winced from the stretch of the bruise. “Do you remember what it looked like?”

So she knows, because rather than asking who, she’d said ‘it’. He’d hoped that Rhine doesn’t know, that despite how intelligent she was, nothing could have prepared her for the fact that what she’s working with is capable of harming someone. Asmoday would have wanted him to give her the benefit of the doubt. But now he could feel nothing but red hot anger boiling inside. He snatched her wrists from his neck. “I want you to stay away from my family.”

Unfazed, she gives him a hard look, more annoyed than anything. 

“You know how dangerous it is, what you’re doing is a crime, a sin that could topple this nation. And I don’t want you speaking to my sister again.” 

“A sin? A crime?” she laughed humorlessly. “Against who, against what? We have no god and the rules above never applied to us and you should do well to remember that.” The Alchemist never lost her temper or raised her voice at anyone for as long as Dainsleif could remember. But the venom in her words more than made up for it. “I wonder when you became a saint.”

“Your recklessness will kill us all.”

“If anyone’s reckless, it would be you, you with your blind undying loyalty to the Eclipse. Like a dog.”

“So you’re the one who put those thoughts into her head.”

“I never put any thoughts into your sister other than my encouragement for her to pursue her dreams. Something I’m sure you would never understand.” 

“I’d understand if you weren't making such abhorrent, unholy things.”

“I’ve never known you to be holy, yourself, Dain. When did you start using such language when you’re so loyal to this nation, the very thing that defies the heavens themselves?” Then she smiled. “Are you starting to doubt?’

He throws her hand to the side. “How dare you-”

“I have the right to create whatever I desire, and no one, neither you nor our king can stop that. We’re godless, untouchable, the laws of the divine do not govern us and we are the pride of all humankind. Shouldn’t we do something with that? Shouldn’t we become something worthy of all the praise?” 

He doesn’t even know where to begin with that. There’s so much wrong with her and her words that he could only stare in utter disbelief. 

“Yes, there are those who do wrong, yes, there are criminals, what nation doesn’t? But we don’t sin. There are no sinners in Khaenri’ah because no deity rules. We are free, our people are free, more than all in the lands above us.”

“The king-”

“They don’t worship the heavens, Dainsleif.” She draws closer, giving him the coldest look he’d ever seen. “You’re grasping at straws.” In an instant, it dissipates, replaced with the warmest of smiles. 

He’s left reeling. 

“Smile, captain.” She slugs him in the stomach, making him wheeze and double over as all the air is punched out. 

“What are you laughing about?” His sister’s voice comes from behind, still riding the wave of happiness she’s on right now. 

“Nothing,” a flawless giggle escapes the Alchemist. “You were amazing out there.” 

He’s finally able to stand straight, still a bit breathless, then immediately stiffens when she hooks her arm around his. “What are you-”

“We’re both so proud of you.” She widens her eyes at him through the sweet smile. “Right, Dain?”

He struggled with the storm of emotions that still hadn’t faded away. “Yes. Right.” 

Asmoday beams at him, bouncing on her heels again. Despite the enormity of the problem with what she helped make, he can’t help but feel proud of her, just like Rhine said. What she’d done was no small feat and for a moment, he truly was happy for her. 

If only Rhine wasn’t her mentor. 

“It’s getting late.” He starts ushering her towards the front door, anything to get his sister away from the maniac next to him. “We should get going.”

Asmoday laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. How can I sleep with her jewelry in my hair?”

“Can’t you take it off yourself?”

“Nope! If I did, I’ll be awake all night trying to untangle every strand from every loop and hook!” 

He masked the death glare at the Alchemist as she shot him one of her devious smiles. 

“Come here Azzy, we can talk about everything for as long as you’d like.” 

There’s no way he’s letting them out of his sight. They take a short hallway down to one of the many dressing rooms reserved for any troupe the king wanted during the ceremony. He stays on guard at the door, with the occasional knight waving before going back home. 

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the doors and walls were pretty thin. 

They talked about Asmoday’s experience on the platform, of the girls that had been making fun of her. Rhinedottir spoke of all the tiny mishaps that’d gone wrong right before she made her grand entrance. 

Then, “Do you really think he’s proud of me?” Her words spike his attention. 

“Why not?”

A moment of hesitation passes. Dainsleif had all but stopped breathing, straining to listen. 

“Earlier when I walked up to you, he didn’t seem happy.”

Their argument. He was lucky she hadn’t overheard it but that doesn’t mean the expression on his face left immediately after. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course he is.” 

“I really thought things were okay between us, and we were back to normal again… but now I’m not so sure.”

“He was just a bit tired from the crowd.” The excuse doesn’t seem to convince her, because his sister doesn’t say anything more. 

His throat tightens. 

“Asmoday.” It’s the softest he’s ever heard the Alchemist speak. “Your brother loves you and after tonight, he’s so, very proud of what you managed to do.”

“But-”

“To tell you the truth, Azzy, he was just concerned about your safety. We’re both familiar with Durin but just remember, it’s the first time your brother’s ever seen him. He just wants you to be safe.” 

Dainsleif turned on his heels, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Of all the things that happened today, he never thought that Rhinedottir would come out to defend him like this. Rhine, the dangerous woman with no concept of fear towards the king, the gods, or anyone at all. The one who’s always looking at things and even people themselves like they were subjects, just waiting to be experimented on. It flipped over half of the beliefs he’d hung onto about her. Despite the people’s admiration and idolization for the Alchemist, suspicion and unease is the only thing he felt for her. 

But this… He didn’t even know how to process it. 

The door opens, and his sister’s there with her hair down, Rhine’s hands on her shoulders pushing her towards him. “Have a goodnight, you two.” 

Chapter Text

He tried to make the months leading up to her departure the best ones possible. Rhine was spending even more time with her frequently if she wasn’t already before. It still irritated him to no end, their argument being the one thing that overshadowed all of their conversations. But they were civil, or at least tried, for Asmoday’s sake. The tension was undeniable but they did their best to keep it under control. 

As much as he hated to admit it, the Alchemist was the one who suggested he take more time off his work for her. They don’t know when his sister will be back and she’s all that he has. 

Summer rolled in quickly, turning the days from damp to boiling hot. As the nation heated up, so too, did the people. The midsummer festival was coming and everyone’s busying themselves decking out all of Khaenri’ah. Farmers and florists saw stacks of orders for Inteyvats and mist flowers. Craftsmen and painters were getting buried knee deep in commissions and the smell of fresh pastries and cakes covered the whole street they lived on. More celebrations and events were being held in the center of their neighborhood.

She’d dragged him out to go. 

Music can be heard as she tugs him along, excitedly bouncing through the growing crowd and despite the increasingly hot air, a cool breeze blows her hair into his face. He can’t see. 

“Dainsleif look! They’re starting, hurry!” The violins swell, playing crescendos of notes up and down the scale. People rushed into the center, trying to find a spot to dance. Someone starts clapping to the rhythm, and then more. Cheers dotted the air and she looks back. “You wanna go?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I’ll be right here.”

She grins widely and lets go of his hand, rushing for a place next to a couple just as the dancing begins. He’s never seen her so happy in such a long time. Those who weren’t with a partner grouped up and he watches as all of them, their people move, all at one pace. Flourishing dresses, the bounce of flowers and curls of hairs as partners sweep up their beloved. 

It was a nice break from his work, and nearly again, he feels the same surge of loyalty for the people as he does for the king. Flashes of Rhine’s words echo, unwanted, unwelcome. 

“We are the pride of all humankind.” 

For a terrible moment, he might find that she had a point. 

“She’s a good dancer.” 

He jumped, and snapped his head to the side where he finds the Alchemist standing right next to him. She’d popped up like a ghost. 

“You’re not gonna join in on the fun?”

“My duty as a royal guard extends beyond the palace.”

“That’s a flimsy excuse if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Think what you wish.”

She laughed, and despite the clapping and the cheers, he heard it above everything else, bright, melodic. Then her hands are in front of him. “Would you like a dance, oh, honorable knight?”

He blinked. 

“Suit yourself.” And with that, she gently nudges her way past the crowd, managing to get to the front. Asmoday spots her, twirling from the group of girls that she was a part of. 

“Come on!” She grabbed Rhine’s hands, pulling her in to dance.

He’d only ever seen her mind at work, the way her brows furrow in deep concentration and her eyes narrowing as she focused. Whenever she found the time to walk Asmoday home, she would show up, eyes glued to whatever book she’s reading or whatever research she’s compiling. But somehow, she still found the time to irritate him. It could be a giggle, or one of her smiles that tells him she’s done something bizarre that he wouldn’t want to know about. Annoyingly, she’d managed to creep into his dreams. 

Despite the blazing hot air, he shuddered. 

His sister had pulled Rhinedottir in during a slow part of the song. But now, as the notes came quicker and lighter, he watched in disbelief as the Alchemist began matching the energy. Frenzied twirls and spins from the dancers kicked up dust. And he saw now just how unreal she looked, with the sun shining above them. The white dress didn’t help and neither did the gold outlining. It’s the same as her cloak and the shine on it reflected light into his eyes. It was as blinding as the night she shot fireworks at him.

One second he can’t see, and the next, his sister’s dress manages to save his sight. It starkly contrasted her mentor’s, having commissioned a tailor to use the darkest blue they had. Yellowed stars shimmered and sparkled, not as much as Rhine’s outlining, and she’d ordered for it to be weighted; it would give it the bounce as she spun. 

Bold colors and pastels blurred and divided. Some part of him wanted to take this moment and bottle it up. Back when Asmoday was younger, anything that moved and had bright colors would entertain her for hours. Something or someone bumps him forward and he stumbles. Then he’s at the front. 

They clapped, turning around then back. A genuine smile draws on the Alchemist’s lips. The violins pull the notes longer and they grab each other’s waists, spinning like all the other dancers. Night. Day. Then repeat. It’s like watching the sky blinking at him because through everyone else, they’re all he could see. Asmoday would save his sight. Then he’s blinded again. 

Yet Rhinedottir is all he could focus on. Her dress entranced him, and her smile was an anomaly. He’s just like anybody else, hypnotized by what she’d created; no tailor could make that. But what set him apart from the rest now was the fact that he’d seen her smile. Truly. 

Nothing devious. She wasn’t planning anything. It’s not the fake one he’d seen so many times whenever she unveiled her experiments. Not adoration either, that’s usually reserved for his sister. 

Just pure, unfiltered happiness. 

Dainsleif lived breathed and ate loyalty, but unfortunately, intrusive thoughts are a flaw that every human has. 

That one corner of his mind is telling him that the Alchemist is shining brighter than the queen. 

She hadn’t even spared him a glance the whole time they danced. The music slows again, signaling the end of the song. People are already drifting away from the center exhausted from the dancing. Groups of friends start breaking off, and couples are pulling their lovers towards food stalls or benches to sit down. 

When Rhine turns around, her smile is thrown at him, golden eyes radiating a kind of joy he’s sure he’ll never even come close to. Suddenly, a part of the argument comes back to him, her voice and words clouding every part of his being. 

“We are free, our people are free, more than all the lands above us.”

Maybe he’d never given that sentiment any consideration since it came from her. But if what he saw today meant anything, it more than proved her point. And that says a lot coming from him. 

He turned from her gaze, wondering why he suddenly can’t look at her as something warmer than the blazing sun crawls up his cheeks. 

Chapter Text

“It’s too heavy Dain.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you have enough to fend for yourself.” He strapped another knife to her bag. His sister has enough of his weapons for her to do damage if she were to hurl herself at someone. That is to say, she no longer needs a lethal weapon in her hands. She is the lethal weapon. 

But it never hurts to be too prepared. 

“My, my,” The door opens as the Alchemist invites herself into their home. “Are you getting her ready for an expedition or a battle with the gods?“

“See Dain, it’s too much! What if I fall into water? I might drown!” 

She had a point. 

Sighing, he takes inventory of everything he’d given her. She could probably do without the three bags of arrows piled on top of her bag. And the machete. And the claymore. He starts unclipping some of them, lightening her load. 

“You should visit Durin before you leave. He’ll miss you.” 

A sad look flickers in her eyes. “Me too.”

“We all will,” she added, dumping a bag of potions into her bag. 

“I’ll bring you both souvenirs!” his sister replied. She always found a way to cheer things up. “What do you guys want?”

“A book on mutated plants would be nice.” 

“Dain?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He really can’t think of anything he’d like. Everything he needed is already in his possession. “You have to get going before dawn breaks.” He didn’t want her to go, but if she was going to make it to a safe place to rest for the night, she’ll have to leave right now. 

She stands from sitting on their kitchen table, still bright as ever but with a tinge of sadness. For the first time in his life, he’s afraid. What if something gets her before the end of today? What if she goes missing and never comes back? She’s all that he has and he doesn’t know what he’d do without her. When he thinks about it, nearly everything he’d done was all for her. He’d joined the knights to keep her sheltered and fed before loyalty had consumed him. If something managed to strike her down before she could return, he would hunt them to end of the world. 

Then what? 

His sister crashes into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “I’ll need you to cook badly.”

“Huh?”

“Durin likes sugar fish. Rhine will teach you how to make it.” She grins widely and he wondered how and when she’d grown so much. It seemed like yesterday when she was barely able to reach the counter. 

The worry dissipates. He hugs her back, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Prioritise your safety when you’re out there.”

Nodding, she jumps into her mentor next. “Can you make sure he remembers to eat? He goes to bed without dinner sometimes because he has rocks for brains.”

“Excuse me?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll make sure he won’t ever forget.”

He doesn’t like how she accentuated the last part. 

Finally, with nothing more she needed to do, his sister opens the door. His chest tightened. “Be careful.” He fought the crack in his voice. 

“I almost forgot! Dain, you have to promise me you’ll visit Durin everyday.”

“How?” 

“Just do it!” Smiling, she waves at them both. “I’ll be back soon.” 

And just like that, the door closes behind her. 

He wanted to fling it back open and tell her not to go but instead, he stands, unable to move. The weight of it all choked out his words and a suffocating silence descends on them both. 

Now it’s just him. 

He went about the rest of his day with some empty crushing hole inside of  him. When his sister left, she’d hollowed his insides out, leaving him basically with only half of a purpose. Before that, he had two; raise her and be loyal. Part of that was gone. 

It’s probably the longest day he’s ever had, and by the time he’s ordered to close the palace doors for the night, nothing seemed better than leaning against the wall and falling asleep right there. The empty house without her would be too much. It hadn’t even been a day and he already missed her. Even how annoying she could be if she felt like it. 

He didn’t want to go home. 

But just as he and the other knight bolted the marble in place, the clacking of heels sound behind him. “His Majesty will receive you tomorrow morning,” he says without even looking back. 

“Why would I be here for the king so late?” The voice whirls him around. Rhine. 

She’s holding a basket full of groceries and the hood of her cloak had been pulled up to hide her face. Despite the light of the moon casting a shadow over her features, he just knew she’s giving him one of her cruel smirks. 

He descends a few steps down wondering what she wanted from him now. Asmoday had left and he had nothing for her except suspicion. Even after all this time, he still can’t trust her. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” 

There’s a pause from the Alchemist, allowing a slow cold breeze to pass by. “A little boy had gotten sick and not a single doctor knew what to do.” 

Shocked by her honesty and tone, it was his turn to be rendered speechless. He’d never heard anything from her voice other than mockery or amusement. To hear the way her pitch dropped from its usual brightness stunned him. 

“He’s alright. For now.” 

That’s a relief, despite not even knowing who her patient had been. If she’d been out for the rest of the day, she must have spent it working, just like he was and only now would she be allowed to rest. Under the mask of a cunning smile, he wondered if she too, was just as exhausted. “It’s dangerous out here alone.”

A pale slender hand reaches for him, a fragment of that smile coming back for him. What surprised him more was a softer one that filled up the rest. “That’s why I need a knight to escort me home.” 

He hesitated, looking back at the knight behind him, then at her. “Just go captain. I can check the outside myself.” 

Coming down the last few steps towards her, he offers an arm and she hooks her own through it. Her head is down, presumably to try and watch her footing. When they reach the bottom, he asked the burning question that came when she appeared. “Why are you really here?”

“You haven’t forgotten the promise you made to her have you?”

He made no such promise. “I’ll be dropping you off and that’s it.”

“Cold as ever, I see.”

“To you.” 

“Not to anyone else?”

“Never.”

She giggled, surprising him. “That makes me special doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“But you’ve reserved that only for me.” She flips back her hood. “I should do something for you in return.”

“Why did you take that off?”

“I don’t need to be worried about showing my face when a royal knight is with me.” Her hair is blown into tangles, the kind that looked messy, but good if it’s done right. The gold of it reflected moonlight into his eyes and for a moment, she looked more like a ghost than a person. 

“You don’t want to go back home do you?”

It’s like she could read his mind. “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Oh, I assure you, it does. The look on your face says it all.” They pass by his house and for some reason, he lets her take the lead, pulling him on. “I at least have Durin.”

“You mean that thing you used the Abyss to make? The same thing that strangled me during the ceremony?” 

“Yes. I took into account what happened to you and I haven’t used it since. You’ll be safe when you meet him.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“He’s a gentle thing.”

“He’s made from the Abyss.” 

“That doesn’t stop your sister from loving him.”

“She doesn’t know it almost killed me.”

“My point still stands.”

"It doesn't."

"It does."

"No." 

"Yes. I thought you knew your sister better than I do," she added. 

"I do."

"You don't."

"Yes."

"No."

"We can't possibly be arguing like children right now," he sighed, wondering how and why he agreed to walk her home.

"I'd say you're more like one right now, denying what you don't want to hear; there are things about your sister you don't know that I do."

"And yet I'm more inclined to think it's you since there's solid evidence of your recklessness inside your home right now." 

She rolled her eyes, then opened the door. 

The smell of some strange chemical met him first. Followed by the sound of tinkering and something fizzling on a shelf. He closed it behind him as she sets the basket down on the table and takes off her cloak, dropping it into a chair. He’d seen her wear that dress many times. 

He had no idea it was backless.

“What are you doing standing there like that?” she asked, chuckling. “You’re as stiff as a piece of wood.” Waving at him, she goes around, heading towards the stove. “Come here,”

“What?”

“Sugar fish.”

He restrained a disgusted look on his face. 

“Don’t give me that look when it’s the consequence of your own actions. You never taught her how to cook?”

“I always did it or she always eats before she gets home.” 

She pulled out a fish from the ice box and washed her hands in the sink. “Do you know how to gut it?”

Of course he does, who does she think he is? She hands him a cutting board and a knife and for the first five minutes they work silently. Years of making dinner and breakfast at home made him quick and skilled and before she’d even pulled out all the ingredients, he was already done and cleaning up the counter. 

He sees her hair tied up for the first time, noticing just how long it was. It took several loops around the twine for her to pull it all in and even then, it looked like it might come loose at any minute. 

She turned on the stove and dropped an entire block of sugar into the pot. 

“What are you doing?” If she wasn’t careful and let it dry, it’s going to stick and the hassle of getting it off would take all night. 

“I know what I’m doing. Just watch.” 

He did so without speaking a word, leaning against the counter as he took in her home. It’s a lot more cluttered and messy with various chemicals and test tubes littering nearly every open surface. Stacks upon stacks of books covered the floor and he wondered how she could even get anywhere with how the edges jutted out, tripping anyone who’s not careful. Herbs and dried fruits hung from the ceiling, giving off a sweet smell and research notes were strewn all over the place, everywhere. 

Despite how different it was, it did feel like home. He still doesn’t trust her, even after all this time, but there was some understanding and gratitude for Asmoday being happy here. 

The smell from the pot made him turn away. She laughed, bringing it out and wrapping it up in a piece of cloth. “Follow me.”

He didn’t want to be anywhere near the abomination she’s holding. “I’ll stay here.”

“Is my knight in shining armor scared?” she teased, with a hand on the door. 

“No-” He coughed from the rancid smell, covering his mouth and nose. 

There’s a scarf from the coat hanger and she slips it off, setting down the bag and sauntering behind him. Before he could move, she ties it around his head, her fingers working the ends into a secure knot. “You’ll live.”

“I never said I couldn’t.” But the scarf muffled his voice. 

He follows her outside into her backyard and through a thicket. Branches and brambles cut away at his face and clothes and stones and pebbles littered the ground, almost like they’re trying to trip him. It doesn’t help that he’s tall and he struggles to keep up. 

Rhinedottir glides through like a ghost. Traces of moonlight fall in from what little opening the trees allow, and again, it reflects off her dress and annoyingly, into his eyes. Still, it’s the same as the day he saw them both dance at the festival; he can’t keep his eyes off of her. There were more than a few moments where his suspicion for her flickered, where he understood briefly, just how she managed to entrance an audience. It could be the light. Or it could be her that’s hypnotizing him. 

A flash of darkness escapes his sight. He slams his head onto an overhead branch, and pain explodes for a second. 

“I didn’t take you to be so…”

“Shut it,” he hissed, both in pain and in embarrassment. 

“Dainsleif, the crack of your skull against the trees sent the birds flying. Look, they’re gone now.” She pointed up at the sky just as several wings disappear into the thicket. “You should bring your helmet with you next time.”

He glared daggers as heat rose in his cheeks. She shot him a teasing smile, eyes full of amusement. 

“Don’t you look lovely?” 

“Rhinedottir.”

She laughed in response, softer than all the other times he’d heard it. “We’re here.” Holding up the bag, she calls out, seemingly at nothing in the field they’d ended up in. “Durin!”

Nothing moves. 

“I brought your favorite!” Her voice echoes across. 

The ground shakes first before shimmering scales appear, stumbling out of the thicket and into the clearing. It’s as dark as the night sky, no, even darker. Hints and traces of the abyss are everywhere, all over the dragon from the color to the eyes to the raggedness of it all. It grew in size, approaching slowly as if it had just woken up from a long sleep. Durin bowed his head, the neck craning down as Rhinedottir opened the bag. Though this was only the second time he’d seen him, there’s no doubt about the way it sagged and dragged his wings; he was upset. 

And it wasn’t the dangerous kind. 

Even as she placed the fish into the dragon’s wide, jagged mouth filled to the brim with sharp fangs, it didn’t look happy. In fact it only got sadder. 

“She’ll be back soon.” Rhine reached up, trying to console it as it sat down, resting his head on the grass. 

He never knew an animal could express so much emotion. Now that it was right before his eyes, he had to admit that what his sister and her mentor achieved was no small feat. They’d managed to bring a living, breathing dragon to life out of nothing. 

The Alchemist turns to him, taking his hand and pulling him closer. “Look, it’s her brother. They’re almost the same aren’t they?”

He and his sister couldn’t be any more different. Her hand places his own on the snout, pressing it down as if she wanted to make it easier for him. He can’t notice anything but that her’s is smaller than his own, more nimble and quick. 

Durin closes his eyes, his expression immediately softening as the creature melted into his touch. 

Maybe he was wrong. Wrong about the thing his sister had made. And maybe he was wrong about Rhinedottir too but letting his guard down is dangerous. She feared nothing. 

“How did she do this?” Questions begin springing up as he continued petting it.

“She took my notes on the deconstruction of a dragon’s dna. After that, she had free reign in my lab and before I knew it, a baby’s already being nurtured in a test tube.” Leaning on the dragon, she laughed a little. “Azzy’s a fast learner isn’t she, Durin?”

It’s a while before they both waved the dragon goodbye and returned to her house. Upon arriving, he unties the scarf and hands it back to her as she throws the dirtied cloth into a laundry basket. She caught a glimpse of the sink and frowned. “I’ll just wash all that tomorrow.”

He picked up his weapon as she tried to let down her hair. Key word try. The twine tangles and catches, making her wince as she attempted to yank it out. “Dammit.”

It’s dark inside as well, and without the moonlight, his eyes only barely managed to adjust. He grabbed a match and lit a single candle, moving her notes and books away to make sure it doesn’t catch on fire. The light illuminated a hair brush and without thinking, he picks it up as her hand gets caught as well. 

He pulled them out and grasps the tangled strands in his hands. She freezes, stunned at the fact that he’s suddenly helping her. “Hold still.” He worked through the gold, undoing knots and curls from the twine, wondering how often Asmoday had to do the same. Finally tugging it out, he tightens his grip, just like Rhinedottir had. The brush goes through harder, but she’s not grimacing from any pain. 

“I can just imagine the other soldiers watching their captain doing my hair.” 

“They would see it as a chivalrous thing,” he replied, not wanting to give her anymore reason to tease him. “It’s a knight’s duty.”

“To do hair?”

It sounds ridiculous. “To serve the people.”

“I guess you do learn from the best.” She chuckled, somehow figuring out that he’d silently observed her while she was doing Asmoday’s. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“I can do what I wish,” she mused. 

“Tell me, where did you find that sheer amount of arrogance?”

“From me, myself and I, Black Serpent Knight. Speaking of royal titles, I want another.”

“You’ll get by just fine with one.” The tangles in the brush begin loosening. “There’s no need for more.”

“Oh, there is a need.”

“You’re ‘The Alchemist’. People will remember you far better like this.”

“Look at who’s talking, captain, Black Serpent Knight, Twilight Sword.” She had a point. “I want something with more flourish, something memorable that can be burned into history. But also something that can represent who I am. There needs to be meaning to my name. Any suggestions?”

“I find it unbelievable that you’re asking me for help.”

“Whose hand is holding my hair right now?”

He falls silent, not liking the fact that she had a point. 

“Dainsleif.” Something jumps in his chest when she spoke it. 

“Inteyvat.” 

A high laughter pierces the quiet of the night. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m completely serious.” 

“What’s it worth?"

He blinked. “It’s a flower. The nation’s flower. What more is there?”

She sighed, a little bit disappointed. “Of course. Your loyalty truly shows itself in all forms.”

They fall into silence. It doesn’t feel right to just leave it hanging like that. For some reason, a biting thought tells him that this awkward atmosphere now was his fault and that he needed to fix it. He digs around his mind, trying to come up with something fitting. Stars, the moon, mistflower corollas. Scrambling for something that’s feasible proved harder than he’d initially thought. 

The moonlight bounces in through the window and reflects off her dress. Then her cloak. Then her hair. 

“Gold.” 

A moment passes and he wonders if she’d heard him. “Hm. It’s so simple.” 

"It's a rare, valuable thing that can't be recreated in a world like our's," he says, trying to defend it. "It's hard to find, and many people have died in search of this one thing, whether because of their greed or the power that comes with possessing it. Yet whatever it is, you seem to have a talent for it. Gold is something that can be molded or forged into anything it wants to be, but by itself, if given the chance, shines like a fallen star. All someone needed to do was find it." 

He untangled more of her hair, working as gently as he could through it and wondering when his voice had gone so soft. 

"And you've been found, haven't you? By the people of Khaenri'ah. If there's one thing I know about you is that you're a beacon, a light for all of those who dare to walk the same path you do. I know we aren't the best with each other, but I'd be a fool if I don't admit that what you've achieved is anything short of the handwork of the gods." 

Another silence. Then he realizes that it’s because she’s stunned. It’d be the first time that it happened in front of him. Even if he can’t see her face, he knew that she’d smiled. But what kind, he didn’t know. The candlelight flickers, casting a shade of orange on her cheeks.

“Gold,” she murmurs. 

Chapter Text

She clutched the green leatherbound book in her arms, hands hovering over the bag of money she’d brought into the store. What’s something Dain would like? Scanning the little boxes filled with sword ornaments, she picked up a small red ruby, and held it up to the light. 

“Is there any particular one you’re looking for my lady?” The old shopkeeper’s sewing a patch onto a shirt. 

“What’s a good gift for a brother?”

“I can’t say. Only you know him well enough, miss.”

She thought for a moment. “He had a sword. It’s black and gray, and he’s a royal guard.” 

“How honorable,” he says. “What kind of knight is he?”

“It’s always about duty and loyalty with him.”

“I’m sure there’s gotta be more than that.” the old man stands up. “He’s family isn’t he? Does he take good care of you?”

“He’s all I have,” she replies, avoiding the question, not wanting to get all sentimental. “His armor is black, with some blue and silver.” Hopefully the man’s well-versed in dark and gritty aesthetics. “He has blond hair and a solid blue color for eyes.”

He thought for a moment, then walks over, digging through the same box that she’d been looking through. “What position does your brother hold? Can you think of anything that may well represent him?”

“I don’t understand.”

“The scholars of the Sumeran Academia have an owl. Mondstadt are lions; one of the four winds that protect their land. Liyue, the nation of contracts, are dragons.”

“He’s a Black Serpent Knight.”

The man smiled, his hand pausing at something. “Perfect.”

It’s a black snake, twisting into a loop that would encase a finger. A ring, with red beady eyes that shined with bloodlust. It’s edgy, it’s serious and poker faced. The snake isn’t actually poker faced but it radiates the same monotonous energy as him. She repressed the giggle that rose. 

“What’s so funny?” 

She can’t hide it from her face though. “It looks exactly like him,” she snorted. 

He raised a brow, giving her an amused smile, one that tells her there’s more to the ring than what met the eye. He squeezed it from the sides. A small knife slips out, almost like a tongue, pleasantly surprising her. “It would suit him well.” He hands it to her. “He’s in an honorable position.”

“That’s what everyone says.” 

“What do you do?” 

She almost sighed at the question. When Rhinedottir first told her about stepping out of her brother’s shadow, she was more than happy to agree, though at the time, she can’t really say it out loud. Her neighbors and friends would always talk about how esteemed or proud they were of Dain, never her. She didn’t mind it at first, but then they began questioning her own merits, asking what she’d achieved to which she always answered, nothing. It’s exhausting. But Dainsleif shouldn’t know. He’s already got too much to handle and having to deal with everyone living around them comparing her to him would have him knocking on their doors to ask them to stop. 

He’s always on the verge of just falling asleep when he stumbles back through the door from work. 

“I’m a practicing Alchemist, in the art of Khemia.” At least now she could have a credible answer. It stopped most of the praise and questioning. Most. 

“Khemia?” His eyes widened. “It’s forbidden.”

“Not in Khaenri’ah, no.”

He blinks in awe as they go back to the counter. “So it’s true then? No sinners?”

She digs up a couple of coins. “That’s what my master always says. No gods, no sinners.”

“If only any of our nations here have that kind of freedom.” It’s wishful thinking from the old man. Teyvat is locked under the gaze of archons and Celestia. 

Rhinedottir is always going on about freedom, how they should take advantage of it. She agreed for the most part, but then, her master’s the type of person to always take things too far. 

Exiting the store brought her out onto the streets of Fontaine. Paved stone and arranged irrigation and bushes scatter across the center of the city. A ring for Dain and the book that Rhine wanted. Hopefully they’ll survive the journey. Placing it in the small satchel, she sets off once more, the task her king gave her clear as the sun of Teyvat. 

Steal the pearl of the heavens. 

She didn’t understand it at first, having never even heard of any such pearl. But the Abyss were kind to her, explaining in detail what it is, how it came to be, and why the king needs it so desperately. They explained why her master is making so many machines, all built for war and the reason why she wasn’t angry when she’d gone behind her back to create life. What she’d done was speed up the process and Rhine had pulled her into an excited hug upon finding baby Durin in the test tube. 

The gods that ruled were false. The skies they’d created were false. Everything in the lands above Khaenri’ah had been fabricated by them, molded to shape the people however they wished. But it’s not enough to stop their will. She admired that about them, siding with anyone she met who questioned or opposed their divine law. 

It's a mission to save them all. By taking the pearl from the heavens, the gods would topple from their thrones, and free their subjects. The truth of this world would come out in broad daylight, for all to see. Everything, from the previous civilization, to the destruction that they rained down upon them, to a pathetic but effective attempt to mask their atrocities, all would be revealed. 

Nothing but pure rage filled her when she heard it for the first time. Along with hope when the Abyss said that Khaenri’ah’s one of the last nations to survive from such a time. They were descended from them, all of them, including her. 

In the same way Rhinedottir felt the pride that the people gave her, she felt the pride of having come from a free nation. It allowed her to get some sense of what Dainsleif had been feeling for nearly his whole life. And maybe, just maybe, she could understand where his loyalty comes from, even if knows nothing of what the Abyss told her. 

With determination surging inside of her, she pushes on, ready to fulfill her duty to Khaenri’ah and to come back in glory. 

Chapter Text

They learned to live without her. But that’s not to say that they don’t miss her deeply. 

His routine changed. He was used to going home after a long day, knowing that his sister may be reading, dancing, or sleeping. Either way, she would be there. His home now was nothing but empty and the silence of it grew worse before it gradually began fading away. He found himself tending to her plants, and only entering her room to dust her shelves and sweep the floor. Other than that, it remains untouched. 

Instead of going home every night right after work, Rhine would come pick him up from the palace and they’d walk back to her place. Now that Asmoday’s gone, there’s no need for her to rush into her next experiment. She’d taken more time off for herself to recuperate after so many years of nonstop researching and creating. It’s well-earned, and long overdue. 

Whenever he had the time, he found himself spending it with her and during the course of a long time, his suspicion for her began to fade. They fell into a rhythm, each one turning the cogs and gears of a mundane life, one that grew over the mutual emotion of missing someone. 

She’s growing on him. But he’ll never admit it out loud. 

“Captain!" He turned from Durin, watching as she came out of the thicket. Somehow if that formal title came from her lips it felt different. “I need your blood.”

“Why?”

“My new experiment. It’s going slow, but I’ve gotten to the testing part of my research.” She held up a syringe to him. “May I?”

He backed up. “Tell me what it is first.”

“That’s a secret.”

“You’re always so full of them.”

“Where’s the fun in telling you what it is?” A devious smile paints her lips, probably remembering every other time he’d surprised her with something bizarre. Or gave him shock. 

Sighing, he holds out an arm for her and feels the pierce of the needle a second after. There’s something mechanical strapped to her back. “What’s that?”

“A saddle,” she replied, pulling it back out and capping it. Dropping the bag onto the ground, she unhooks it from her shoulders and begins buckling the leather onto Durin. “Asmoday loved the sky.”

“She’d done it before?”

“She’d done many things that you don’t know about.”

The dragon tilted towards her, allowing the Alchemist to climb on. He hesitated, wondering just how secure she’d tied it. Being a royal guard meant taking on anything that posed a threat to the throne. It meant risking his life and potentially dying in the line of duty, but it didn’t matter. He’d accepted it from the moment he was sworn in. He’d always anticipated dying by a sword, poison, or being the victim of an assassination meant for the king. 

None of that prepared him for the possibility of falling off the back of a dragon and tumbling thousands of feet to the ground. 

“Scared?” She leans down on the neck, an amused smile in her voice. “I promise you, nothing will go wrong.”

If she wanted to reassure him, then she’d failed. “I’ll stay grounded.”

“Shame.” Though she didn’t seem too disappointed. “I’ll be back in a moment. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

He shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“Stand back.” 

He doesn’t get a chance to. The wingspan threw a rush of wind so strong it knocks him down as Durin leapt straight into the sky, disappearing in an instant. 

The clouds blocked out any sight of them, and the field was drowned in peaceful silence once more. Nothing moved except for the rustle of the grass and leaves. A slow breeze washed over him, calming his still fast beating heart. It took him a moment to find them again. 

The black dot that was Durin came swooping back down, making him stumble as the air pushed him along. Rhine’s laugh followed all the way down the field and for the one second he’d glimpsed her face, there was the biggest smile he’d ever seen. The genuine one, reserved for no one but herself. He wished once again, to take this moment and bottle it up to keep forever; her dress and cloak billowing from the rush, the golden hair that always blinded him, the laughter and smile that shined brighter than all the Eclipse. 

She really was something else entirely, some ethereal entity that was once a human that feared no god, no sin, no king. A being that transcended all earthly and heavenly beauty. As he watched her soar into the skies of his beloved nation, a tugging thought overwhelmed him. 

The woman belonged. She belonged among the clouds, as her intelligence was the reason she’s able to get up there in the first place.

Rhinedottir dived, Durin folding his wings back as they hurtled towards the ground at a speed that defied all planes of reality. It was a straight drop and even from the ground, Dainsleif felt his stomach lurch at the sight of it. 

They slow down considerably, coming upright again as they land in front of him. “Have you made up your mind?” she called out. It seemed like whether he accepted or not didn’t matter, because she looked ready to go again. 

Without thinking, he took her hand, not really knowing what he’s doing or what he’d just gotten himself into. She was neither Rhinedottir or the king’s Alchemist in this instant, and maybe it’s what compelled him to let her pull him up onto the back of the dragon. 

His throat dries, hanging onto the saddle. 

“Do you want to risk taking a plunge through the skies, sir knight?” She grabbed his hands, pressing them to her waist. Still, he hovered them just slightly. After all, he had to trust that she won’t take off so suddenly just like the first time. 

“Why did I agree to this?” he muttered under his breath. 

She laughed in response and picked up the reigns. “Durin, let’s show our captain what freedom truly is.” It roared, the sound scraping the throat and echoing through the field. The dragon was more than happy to. 

Snap!

They leapt up. He slipped out for a moment and snatched her waist, clinging onto her like she’s all that keeps him from the thousand foot plummet. His heart pounded as the wind battered at his face, the roar of the air rushing by as the ground disappeared. The sheer terror and adrenaline that took hold silenced the possibility of coherent thought. He struggled to breathe. His arms strained as he hugged her from behind, not daring to let go. 

Through it all, he hears her laughter again. 

And everything suddenly seemed so worth it. 

Durin’s horizontal again, slowing down after reaching just below the clouds. “Are you alright there, Twilight Sword?”

He swore up and down, left and right, with every word in the book he knew, breathless and heaving as he fought himself to not look below. She loosened his grip on her, still laughing a little at his reaction.

She always loved his reactions, no matter what it was. Maybe that’s why she always liked surprising him so much, though by now, he’d learn to expect the worst or accept that it could be worse. 

Euphoria dug at his chest alongside his heart that’s still beating so hard, he felt himself shaking with it. 

“How do you like freedom?”

“It’s terrifying.”

“I thought you were braver, Dainsleif.”

“You’re crazy,” he hissed, trying to keep himself composed despite what had just happened moments before. 

“Durin, up more.” 

“Rhinedottir-”

The dragon only raised them above the clouds; a slight ascent that didn’t send him into shock again, to his relief.

He’s hit with the most beautiful sight that ever scrawled out before his eyes. They’d been out all day, and the sun was just beginning to set, orange and yellowed rays of light spilling over a sea of white, fluffy clouds. And above that, the purples and blues of the encroaching night sky. The horizon of the lands above was something he never thought he’d get to see. 

It struck every word from his mind, stole his ability to speak and returned to him, silence. A silence made to accompany the awe and majesty of the skies. 

“How do you like it now, my knight?” Her soft voice was as warm as the beams of the sun. Durin slowed into a hover. She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest as she sighed in content, admiring the view before them. 

He stiffened, tensing up at the feeling of her so close to him. She smelled of cold citrus, the slight breeze blowing her scent and hair into his face. The danger of falling is nearly gone now, replaced by the illusion of solid ground from the clouds themselves. It helped calm him down only a little and he could relax again. Almost. 

His heart’s still beating ferociously in his chest, so much that he’s sure Rhine could hear and feel it. Heat rose into his cheeks as again, he could do nothing but focus on her. The light reflects off her hair again, golden and flawless as a haze seemed to take over his mind. 

It’s a dizzying spell that he can’t place, and the sun was the liquor. Here, above the clouds, her beauty had been multiplied tenfold. He can’t remember when or why he began thinking this. Only that he knew it. 

“Freedom, Dain.”

He remained silent, trying to process her words and take in everything he's seeing. 

"Humans are ambitious, selfish by nature, always wanting more. They, we, can never be satiated." Her eyes aren't looking at him when she speaks, instead, gazing fondly at Asmoday's creation and the horizon. "But if you give them a place to thrive, if you break the shackles binding them down, well, look at what your sister achieved. This is freedom. Unrestrained, with no god to put a limit on what we can do. I hope you understand." 

And maybe he does, but still, it's not like he could completely turn around what he'd believed in for his whole life. Despite no god coming down to smite them, there was still a danger to what Rhine is doing with that. But what if someone wasn't afraid? 

"We're Khaenri'ahns. We have this freedom. All I'm trying to do is make use of it." 

They land on the field again when the moon replaces the sun. As the dragon folds his wings, Dain leaps off, intending to help Rhinedottir down like the knights have taught him to do. 

He folds as well. His legs give out from underneath him due to the flight and he accidentally yanks the Alchemist from her seat. They tumble to the floor, and she laughs, her breath falling onto his face. 

Golden eyes. They’re all he can see and they’re all who she is at this very present moment. He can’t breathe again, the deep swirling pools of the wonderful color drowning him once more only now they held nothing but warmth. She’s so close. Close enough to have her bangs touch his face. 

He could kiss her. 

The thought shot heat up his cheeks and he burned as he desperately tried to push it away. He’s failing miserably and his stomach does another flip when she leans closer, feeling her against his harsh breathing. “I wonder,” A fingernail traces a line on the side. “If you reserve this adorable face just for me?” 

“I reserve nothing for you,” he could barely choke out the words. 

“So I may take what I wish?” 

He says nothing, barely able to form a coherent thought as he stared at her, unable to take away his gaze. He can’t even believe what’s happening, with her on top of him as he’s trying to catch his breath from the flight. “Durin’s watching.”

The dragon had covered its eyes with its wings. 

Rhinedottir chuckled to herself and got up off of him, leaving him reeling from what just happened. 

Chapter Text

“Roland!” She wrangled down the machine onto the table, trying her best to not let any springs jump out. “Hand me the wrench!”

The man’s around her age and was polishing his sword. He quickly tossed it to her and she manages to screw it tight, finally able to release the thing she’d made. “Just a couple hundred more to go.”

He blinked in disbelief, reminding her of Dain. “What are they even for?”

“Justice,” she quipped. It’s amazing how similar they both were. With her brother’s undying loyalty to the Eclipse and Roland’s unwavering faith in the so called justice he wants to deliver. All of it, by slaughter. 

In her eyes, it’s nothing more than an excuse to shed blood. He was Dainsleif if her brother took things too far like Rhine. 

“Be serious.”

“I am. Does she know?” 

He frowned. “What does it matter?”

The girl he’d saved from a group of hilichurls was head over heels for him. Asmoday didn’t know anyone could even be that in love with someone. The woman’s pink flower sits on the table, already wilting from lack of sunlight and water. It’s the only gift he would accept from her. 

“You should make some time to visit her.” She picked up the flower, the scent still lingering there. “I’ll preserve this so you can wear it. She’ll be happy to see it on you.”

“Why?”

“She likes you.”

“No she doesn’t.” His brows furrowed. “Where did you even get that idea?”

Asmoday saw them riding back into Mondstadt with Roland holding the woman his arms like some kind of hero that’d just rescued a princess. Then he’d helped her down ever so gently and right after that, the woman said “I’d love to see you again,” before offering him a variety of gifts. He’d only accepted the flower that she’s holding in her hands right now and if that wasn’t romance, then nothing in this world could be. 

“Are you dense or just thick as a brick?”

“Excuse me?”

“Picture this. You’re a damsel. You’re in distress. Oh no, I’m in danger, if only a knight in shining armor can come save me. Then boom. A knight. Right there. He cuts down those hilichurls in one swing. He turns to you,” She approaches him, setting the flower down and shoving Roland from his chair and onto the floor board. 

“Hey-”

She knelt down, taking his hand into her own, trying to imitate the bass of a man’s voice. “ Are you hurt, my lady? Don’t worry, as long as I’m here, nothing shall harm you. ” The second hand embarrassment from just picturing the scene was already too much. “And if that’s not enough, you kiss her hand!”

“And?! It’s a sign of respect!”

“To nobles, Roland, nobles!” 

His eyes widened. 

“You just treated her like she’s a highborn lady! No wonder she fell for you so fast and quick!” 

“Okay, so I did that. That still doesn’t mean she’s in love with me. She must have just been flustered from my mistake. Anyone would be shocked if they wre suddenly treated like they were someone of such high standing.”

She inhaled deeply, wondering just how many hearts had been broken because of his inability to take hints. Closing her eyes, she spoke carefully, trying to refrain from arguing back. They’d just be going in circles. “Roland. I am going to preserve this flower she gave you, and you are going to wear it. Then, you will go back to her tomorrow, just like she’d wanted you to. Understand?”

“I’ll wear the flower. Not anything more.”

“Roland.”

“I’m not going back. I can’t. It’ll only distract me from what I’m doing right now.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“My only duty is to deliver justice and that’s it.”

“By slaughter.”

“Call it what you wish, but I will live and die by it. Nothing will change that for me, no one can. Not even her.”

“She loves you.”

“I can’t afford to love her back.”

Sighing, she takes the flower and a paintbrush, before opening a cabinet full of resin. “You’re just like my brother. Except it consumes you more than it does to him.”

“Then he must not be doing a very good job.”

“He’s a better man than you,” she snapped, feeling the sudden urge to defend him. 

A silence falls inside the makeshift lab. She didn’t want to look behind her lest his face somehow makes her angry. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“If you’re really sorry, you’d give me some paper towels,” she huffed. Then, taking advantage of his guilt, she adds, “And you’d help me load all of this stuff onto the wagon once I’m done.” 

“What are they even for?”

“Greatness. Grandeur. Destined for something greater than your puny little life. Marked to carve out a path and leave a blazing trail of glory and majestic-ness.” 

He blinked. “Is that even a word?” Then he looked at the thing gangly and barely held together machinery she’s trying to wrangle down. “And sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Her master’s theatrics must be rubbing off on her. She wondered if someone like her brother would be able to put up with it.

Chapter Text

A whole year rolls by. There’s no sign of Asmoday returning. 

He’s not particularly worried other than the occasional paranoia that she might be hurt or dead in a ditch somewhere in Teyvat. It’s quickly pushed out of his mind when he remembers just how many weapons he’d given to her. The winter that passed seemed more isolated and lonely without her there, but at least Rhinedottir and Durin kept him company, something that he appreciated. 

The Alchemist continued her research, although it’s not as quick as when his sister had been there to help her. He found that he now tolerated her, and virtually all suspicion and hositiliy he’d held for her had disappeared. There’s a mutual trust between them that’s steadily growing. But neither would admit it out loud. 

He wouldn’t call them both friends. More like…them fulfilling their respective duties in the king’s court, going about their day without him glaring at her like she’d just murdered the entire royal family. There’s still some distance that divided them, but it’s an improvement. 

After an exceptionally long winter, spring came again with the torrential rain that flooded the streets of his nation. Rhine, living on a hilltop, was spared from the waters as people waded through knee deep water to get to work. Including him. Keeping a steady pace usually helped, but his boots would be drenched by the time he got into position. 

Summer comes, evaporating the water and plunging Khaenri’ah into boiling heat. The thicket surrounding Rhine’s place usually provided some respite from the sun outside. And again, his armor became a disadvantage; he’d be roasting inside the metal, standing guard at the palace gates. 

The young prince that had been entrusted to his protection had taken his first steps. He was there when it happened and he remembered the queen shoving him out quickly to go fetch the king for it. In addition to the work he’s been assigned, he now had to watch the toddler and make sure he keeps out of trouble. But being a guard also meant he can’t move unless there’s a threat. 

Which means he’s standing like a statue in the nursery while baby Kaeya nibbles away at his armor. He can’t count how many times he had to pull him away from his dirty boots and knee guards. But then he’d start grabbing at his sword sheathe, or his spear. In short, the prince was a lot to handle. 

“Khaenri’ah’s inviting diplomats from all seven nations to join us for the festival this summer.” Rhine’s sewing a new dress by the window, the moonlight being enough to allow her to see it. “Are you going?”

He shook his head. “I have to stand guard at the ball. They’re tightening security for the arrival of two special people.”

“I wonder who it could be.”

A knock on the door comes, timid and light. It’s around one in the morning. They pass a glance at each other before he moves to go open. There’s the clink of metal as he hears her setting down the needle and the dress. 

“Who is it?” 

He blinked, staring out into empty space. “You heard the knock didn’t you?”

Her brows drew in worry. “I did.” 

“Nobody’s here.” He swings the door wide open to let her see. Upon doing so, she gasps, covering her mouth, eyes widening. Something’s behind him. 

Instinct kicks in and whirling around, he again, finds nothing there. A chortle makes him look down. 

Kaeya reaches, wanting to be picked up. “Dain!”

Dainsleif nearly faints. 

Another gasp comes from the Alchemist as she rushes to the door, a wide grin on her face. “Hello!” she coos, granting the prince’s request. “Who might you be hm? You must be very strong if you climbed all the way here!” She swings him around, causing the toddler to laugh in pure joy, little giggles filling the air. 

“Again, again!”

“Put him down!” His heart’s pounding in his chest, thinking of everything that could go wrong. Her machines were still in the room. The prince could prick his finger on her needle. She might accidentally bump his head on a ceiling beam. If Kaeya isn’t back at the palace without a single scratch, Dain might as well enjoy his last day alive. “Rhine!”

“Relax, it’s not like he’s the crown prince.”

He grabbed her arm before she swings the kid around again. “That is the crown prince!” 

She blinked, not fully comprehending what he’d just said. “Dainsleif-”

“Dweef!”

His eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth, trying to stay calm. “Rhinedottir.” He’s never been more stressed in his entire life. 

The kid reached for him. “Blue!” Then grabbed a lock of his own hair. “Me!”

“We need to leave. Now.”

She shoves the kid into his arms and grabs a bag and some rope before snatching a hook from the rack in her kitchen. “Let’s go.” The prince sneezed. She unclipped her cloak and quickly wrapped Kaeya up into a bundle. 

They rushed out the door and into the freezing night. The hill that her house was on was steep. It’s a wonder how the kid even managed to get up there. 

“Do you care to explain?” 

He quite literally cannot. How did a child sneak out of a locked hallway, a palace full of guards, and a city full of pedestrians without getting caught? Rhine’s place was nearly on the outskirts of the capital. 

“Flower!” He points at a bush full of roses on the way down. “Can I see?” 

She slips a little more until she’s at the bush, quickly grabbing one and breaking the thorns off with her hands. A small line of blood draws as it pricks her skin. She hands it to the prince. 

“No, I want to see.” 

“We don’t have time for this-”

“Dain, just give him a moment.” 

This was a terrible idea. But the kid is already squirming in his arms and if he’s squirming in his arms, he might drop him. Rhine takes the prince and sets him down. An excited giggle pierces the cold air and the serene silence of the night.

Kaeya plunges his hands into the bush.

“No!” He snatched them away as a thousand needles prick at his skin, making him wince as he pulled out the small, chubby hands. Unscathed. Thank goodness. “Your Highness, please don’t touch it!”

The kid hiccups, his lips suddenly trembling and effectively giving Dain another heart attack. They need to return him to the palace in one piece. But that doesn’t mean he should show up with the prince crying in his arms either. Maybe he shouldn’t have raised his voice, even if he panicked. 

“I’m sorry-” A sob escapes him. Dain doesn’t know what to do. “Does it hurt?”

Rhine has the softest look on her face he’d ever seen. “Aww.” The fond smile resurfaced, the same one she’d wear while watching over his sister. 

Kaeya sniffles, holding his hand that’s now starting to bleed. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” He awkwardly pats his head. “It’s just a little scratch.” 

The prince nods and quietly tries to climb into his arms again. Finally. If there were any more delays, they’d get back by the time the sun rose. And it’d be too late to stop the panic and alarm that would follow. 

They continued, stealing away into the night like thieves. Nobody should be out at this hour, but it’d be better to be safe. Weaving through the quiet streets of the capital, he leads the way after putting the Kaeya into Rhine’s arms, peering around corners. Despite the silence and serenity, he can help the unease resting in his chest. It’s the same one he had whenever Asmoday got too close to Rhine in the beginning. 

Only now, it wasn’t because of her. Kaeya was perfectly safe. Instead, it seemed like it came from somewhere else. He could tell that Rhine’s thinking it too. 

Someone or something is following them. 

He was glad he grabbed his sword when they hurried out of her lab. 

“We’re still playing, right?” came the prince’s voice. 

“What?” Rhine’s had fallen into a hushed whisper. 

“The big shadow thingies said I would win a big prize if I play.” 

Dainsleif froze in his tracks. In fact, both of them did. He turned, finding an equally worried face on her. “Your Highness… can you explain?”

“They sneaked me out and no one saw me!” A bright smile lights up his face. “They said to find you!” 

“Sweetie,” the woman trails off in disbelief. “What are their names?”

“The Abyss! They wanna sword fight with you!”

“Get the prince back to the palace. Now!” As he spoke, pillars of dark mist poured over the rooftops, racing for all of them. The Alchemist took off but it’s too late. A cloud spills onto the ground in front of her, blocking the path. She whirls around. It’s cut off there too. 

Dainsleif charges through, sword in hand, and swipes at a pillar that had begun growing. Before he could reach them, another one shoots up and slams into his shoulder, knocking him back. Pain shocks him, leaving an ache behind. 

The cloud gathers, twisting and forming into something humanoid they could barely make out. There were limbs and a body, but the mist jutted out in various different places. From what he could only think of as the head, purple slits opened, revealing the eyes, a color so bold and dark he can’t help but stare. Steam rolls over it’s body giving it that ghostly presence. 

Everything comes to a standstill. 

A low gravelly thing that rattled the air was its voice, devoid of humanity and filled with some otherworldly echo. “Brother of doomsday.” It turns to Rhine and Kaeya. “Tragedy befalls you.”

“Let’s play!”

“Shh-”

“Who are you to order the prince? You sully him with your sinner hands.” The thing draws closer to them but the woman holds her ground, staring defiantly without an ounce of fear back at it. It was well within her character. But that doesn’t mean his heart hadn’t leapt out of his chest when it began moving for them. 

“One more step and you won’t be leaving this alive.” He aimed his sword. 

“Whoever said I was alive in the first place?”

A chill runs up his spine. There’s no killing that thing. Would a sword even work on it? But none of that matters now. He needed to distract it. 

“Knight of the end, you shall ride upon the backs of your soldiers into a fruitless battle. You cannot escape this fate, and our people have long been prepared.”

“Your people? Who?”

“They are curious nonetheless, and are honored to bear witness to the talent of a doomed leader.” It rose into the air. “Grant them this final wish.”

Several pillars of dark mist hurtles down and he throws himself to the side. They slam into the ground, hard enough to crack it. 

“Rhinedottir, run!”

Gathering the courage, she dashes straight through the mist that the thing had forgotten to block off with something more solid. The pillars that had crashed to the floor charged at him. He swings up and cuts through a few. Recoil bounces into his hands sending needles of pain up his forearm. 

It raises a bulky, barely discernable hand at the quickly disappearing Alchemist. “Knight of Eclipse, show your worth.”

His feet moves before he can think. In an instant, he’d broken into a run, an animalistic desperation taking over. His heart hammers in his throat, he can’t breathe, hands reaching out, fighting the pillars of mist, fighting everything to get to Rhine. He was quick, but the mist was faster. He can’t let it win, he had to get there in time. Besides him, she’s all that his sister has. She needed her. Khaenri’ah needed her. 

He needed her. 

The pillars get there first.

He reaches and snatches her waist, twisting them away as the deafening sound of the pillars slam into a wall in front of them. A rush of air blows across his face from the sheer speed. All he can see are the pillars inches from his face and the fact that the force would have impaled both Rhinedottir and Kaeya. 

He’d barely made it. 

Agony explodes from his back and front, sapping all of his breath as a solid crack rings in his ears. 

“Dain!” 

His throat hitches and he gasped, fighting to inhale but it’s like someone had taken his lungs and put them under lock. Pain radiates through his whole body and he lay there struggling for a few moments as the woman shook him frantically. 

There are two Kaeya’s. And two Rhines. The only thing that he could think of was how it can’t be good now that there were two alchemists because the amount of chaos they’d cause would be irreversible, even if he somehow managed to reign her in. His head is foggy and the only thing he could see was her. 

A light emanates from behind, and he stares at her in disbelief as she positively glowed against the backdrop of the dark mist like some god or deity. Rhinedottir as a god would be terrifying. Her devious smirk is enough to send shivers up his spine. 

Kaeya began smacking his face. “Dweef! Dweef!” 

“Stop! Stop it-”

A bright burst of giggles come from the prince as the Alchemist grabs the boy’s hands. “I wanna fly again! Let’s fly!”

It’s a fight in itself to stand up as air slowly starts seeping back into him. At least he could see more clearly now due to the abuse he’d just recieved from the child. The misty figure is still slowly creeping up behind them. He grabs the Alchemist and they tear down the street. A dizzy spell hits him. But it’s no time to stop. “Dainsleif-”

He tried to speak, to tell her to save it until they were out of harm’s way. But all that came out was a cough. 

The toddler waves, laughing excitedly. “Bye bye mister Abyss man!” 

They pass a glance at each other. Then brushed it off. They’ll set the prince straight when he’s older. 

With the Abyss hot on their heels, they hurriedly race for the palace, clinging onto Kaeya. It comes into sight soon enough but then there’s another problem. The walls were too high for them to climb and Dainsleif can’t open the giant marble doors in time. Whatever the thing was would catch up to them in a moment’s notice. 

The Alchemist quickly rummages through her satchel, digging around. 

“What is it-” The words came out in a rush a spikes of pain makes him flinch. It’s lost as his voice barely comes above a wheeze. 

“I’ve only got one bottle of air!”

He stared. “Huh?”

“It’ll only be enough for two people to go up.”

“Go. Get him out.” 

Rhinedottir hesitates, taking a moment to look at the state he’s in. He’s slightly hunched over, the throb in his chest had never gone away. Every other minute a shockwave of pain rattles him to the core, rendering him breathless. 

“Rhinedottir.”

At the urgency in his rasping voice, she hurls the bottle to the floor where it shatters. A current of wind leaps up and nearly takes him with it. In an instant, the Alchemist and Kaeya are gone. 

“Our people are pleased.” A slow clapping turns him back around. “You’ve done well.”

Somehow the compliment didn’t make him feel any better. “In the name of the Eclipse, I have the duty to carry out a termination of any threats to the royal family.” 

“We are your people.”

They’re anything but that. It’s a ridiculous statement and he can’t even fathom how the Abyss expected him to believe it. 

“Alas, such is the world. Our crowned heir locked in eternal battle, her brother the cursed, wandering doom and history. And the cataclysm of ambition, our greatest sinner of all shall herald the end of this tragedy.” 

Dainsleif charges once more, despite whatever internal injury there is, he’s had enough of the thing speaking utter nonsense and riddles. The Abyss merely flicks his blade away, sending it to the ground. “Oh princess, may you hear the cries of Khaenri’ah! Oh prince, may you steal away to the safety of our enemy! Hear us, both, our saviours!”

Lights in houses began flickering on, the booming voice having woken up nearly half the neighborhood that bordered the palace walls. 

“Heretics, may you rest for half a thousand years.”

The Abyssal figure collapses into a heap, dark mist pooling out and dissipating as if it were never there. He can’t believe his eyes. 

Before he can even process what happened, a light tap comes from behind him. “Dainsleif!” He didn’t even realize he was staggering until she grabbed a hold of his arm. 

“We need to get out of here. If we don’t, they’ll frame us for something.”

Without asking any further, she pulled him down an alleyway just as a door opened, followed by several more. Making it back to Rhinedottir’s place would be too far. Especially right now and every step he takes as the adrenaline wears off sends pain dashing up and down his entire torso. He found himself leaning on the Alchemist by the time they reached his door. 

“I can manage on my own,” he says breathlessly.

“I doubt that.”

“No, I’m fine, really. Go home and get some rest.” 

She scoffed. “Funny. I should be saying that instead. 

He pushed her away. “I can’t deal with this right now. Just go.” He didn’t know which was worse. The pain, or her seeing him like this. If there was any semblance of revenge she wanted on him for the suspicion he had for her, now was the time to do it. Being so weak right now only invited her to do whatever she wanted. He could become her next experiment. “It’s in your best interest to leave.”

Her eyes turned cold, narrowing as she left him sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. “You don’t get to decide that for me, sir knight.” She opened the medicine cabinet which came as a shock to him. Had Asmoday showed her where it was? “I do.”

“What might that be?” he asked, although he knew the answer already. 

“You.” 

Of course. “Just don’t turn me into some grotesque animal.” 

“Goodness.” She pulls up a chair and digs through her satchel again. “Have you always thought so low of me? I’m wounded.” 

He scoffed at the irony in her words before wincing from the real wound that he had. 

“Now. Undress.”

“What?”

Her eyes pierce into his own as she fought back the teasing smile on her lips. It’s not working. “Undress, captain.” There’s a wet towel in her hands and a pot of water in case he’s bleeding. “Unless of course, you want me to do it for you. In which case, I’d be more than happy to do so.” 

Despite the two wounds, the only thing he could focus on were how flushed his cheeks had become. It’s a struggle to lock her in with a glare and he gives up, avoiding her gaze. He unbutttons his shirt quickly, trying to just get it over with. 

“Eager now, are we?” 

“Rhine.”

She chuckled to herself before reaching for his torso. “This will hurt.” Her hand paused as if she was asking for permission. 

“It’s not that bad.” He says, wanting her to confirm it. 

“It doesn’t look like it.”

Then she jabs him right between the ribs and he recoiled hissing in pain. “What was that for?!”

“I’d barely touched your skin.” Then something on her face changes and it stuns him into silence. He can’t believe his eyes. Remorse. Her brows tilted up and a frown replaces the teasing smirk from moments before. And if his sight wasn’t deceiving him, guilt flashed across her’s. “Shattered three of your ribs.” Her gaze turns up to him in morbid and worried awe. “How are you conscious?”

For that, he honestly had no answer. 

“No stitches. You’re lucky none of the bones went through your skin.” She uncorks a potion. It’s bright green. It looks poisonous. “Drink this.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“How would you do that?” 

“One simple punch to your gut should finish the job,” she retorted. “You shouldn’t have been so reckless.”

“You had the prince in your arms, what else was I supposed to do?” Tipping the bottle to his lips, he nearly spat out the contents of it in her face. They had a rough history with each other. But he also had dignity that he wanted to keep. He choked it down and coughed as the potion burned the back of his throat. “So this is how I die.”

“You’re so dramatic.” She takes his shoulder that’s still bleeding. “Do you really want me to undress you myself?”

“So this is your grand scheme isn’t it?” he says, already taking off his shirt but barely able to get the words out due to the horrible taste. “Murder me in my own home and then turn me into some vile creature.”

She rolls her eyes, dipping the towel in to rewet it. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll let you have your pick.” 

“You must enjoy watching me suffer.”

“I do, captain. I relish this very moment where you’re in pain and can barely breathe right before I drag your corpse back to my lab and turn it into some grotesque humanoid thing.” She gently dabs some of the blood around the wound first before washing it and then wiping off some more. “In fact, tell me what thing you’d like to be now.”

“Can you incubate me in a test tube instead?” 

“Not before I pluck your eyes out.”

He frowned. “What would you do with my eyes?” 

“This’ll hurt.” Before he knew it, she’d pulled a bandage over the wound, wrapping it around his arm. Agony burned and he grimaced. “Why, I’d keep them of course.”

He glanced at her, dumbfounded. 

“I’ve never seen a pair quite like your’s, Dain. They’re gorgeous pools of water, like the moment light hits the surface, making them glow. Your eyes are fascinating and I’d love to keep them for myself.”

“You are not plucking out my eyes.”

“I merely jest.” That teasing smile is back as she finishes wrapping his wound. “Eyes are all the more beautiful when they’re full of life, are they not?”

He hoped that wouldn’t change. 

“Can you breathe now, Dainsleif?”

The sharp pain that had been plaguing him all the way back to his home had subsided into a dull throb. It’s not completely faded, but he could inhale without wheezing. He nodded. What she’d given him had worked. 

She props her head on an elbow, leaning forward towards him and tilting her head. He instinctively draws back. “I do wonder though, and I have been since the day you met me. Why are you always so cautious around me?”

“You’re dangerous. Plain and simple.”

“If I were dangerous, you would have taken me out long ago. Yet I’m still here. And besides that, you’re a Black Serpent Knight, one of the most fearless people in our nation. Why show caution when you’re so sure you can get rid of me?”

He had no answer to that either. She’d always left him tongue-tied but this time, it hit more than anything. “We’re all only human.”

“Is that so?” She doesn’t believe him at all. “Are you afraid of me?”

His face hardened. “Don’t fling ridiculous accusations at me.”

“Your reaction just now proves that I’m right.” She chuckled, locking him in her gaze again. “You’re adorable when you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

"Sure you aren't." She turns to leave. "I must be going. Be sure to get some rest.” The door suddenly shuts and he’s left alone with her words, cursed as they were. That woman always had a way of getting under skin. His cheeks are still burning and so were his injuries. 

Sighing, he finally collapses into bed, not wanting to think of her anymore.

Chapter Text

“He says that three things make us human: Greed, love, and the dangerous ignorance of free will.” Rosalyn tugs on her hair with a brush, eyes scanning over her own features as if to make sure nothing was out of place. “The question is, if you were to pit all of them against each other, which one will win?” 

Asmoday holds the needle up to the candle before carefully threading it. “That’s so vague.”

“I know right?” A huff comes from behind her. “And they speak in riddles half the time we’re in class.” 

“Why not do all three?”

“See, if I did that, the pages of my bibliography and sources would be longer than all the threads you’re using right now.” There’s a shuffling of feet as she plops down on their couch with a groan. “Maybe if I met a few people with each of these qualities it’ll be easier.” 

“I doubt you’ll find them here. Everyone’s so serious about their work.”

“Midterms are coming up, of course they are. Nobody’s going to get any sleep next week.”

“Not me though.” She pulls the fabric up a little more. “Hope you all have fun.” 

“Damn you, Azzy,” she grumbled. “Well, I don’t know anybody. Do you?”

“No.”

“What about your brother or your master?”

“He has no social life and she’s kind of crazy so no, people don’t usually come close to them.” 

“I’m talking about the qualities they have.” Rosa rolls over, flopping an arm over the couch lazily. “From the stories you tell, your brother is more akin to a loyal dog and your master more like a raven.” 

She blinked. “Then what am I?”

“A rat.” 

“How dare you?”

Rosa laughed, turning back to stare at the guidelines in her hands before tossing the packet onto the table. “Well, I’ve done enough work for today.”

“All you did was read the instructions on your assignment.” 

“Exactly. I’m taking a break. Is that my dress you’re making?”

She nodded. “Rostam’s going to pick up our order from the blacksmith tomorrow.”

The woman blushed at the mention of his name, smiling and giggling to herself like a child with candy. “I hope he picked up a bottle of Mondstadt’s wine on the way here. It’s been so long since I’ve had a taste of it.” 

“Spoken like a true alcoholic.” 

“Can you really blame me? I can’t believe they don’t allow their students to drink.”

“Yeah. And there’s a good reason for that, Rosalyn. Do you know how bad the reputation of the Akademiya would be if it got out that their students are raging drunkards?” 

“Anyways,” She rolls back off the couch, getting up. “Need help with that?”

“The lace still needs to be sewn onto the hem. Go around the pearls.” Asmoday elbowed a box of needles and thread towards her as she continued to pull the sleeves together. The night was going to be long, but at least Rosa was here with her. They could suffer together.

It was her who had to replace the candle when it burned out. By then, her eyes were already growing heavy and every so often, she’d prick her fingers. 

“Is this what being a student of the Akademiya feels like?” she mumbled. 

Rosa smiled. “It’s only a fraction of the experience. Oh-” Getting up, she sauntered over to a cabinet and pulled out two packets of something brown. “I can give you a more authentic experience if you’d like.” 

“How?”

“Have you by any chance heard of this wonderful drug called caffeine?” A lot more drawers and cupboards are opened as she pulled out some cans. “Whenever there’s an exam or finals coming up, all the students in my dorm gather for a good luck ritual.”

“Like praying to your god?”

A popping sound fills the air as Rosa starts pouring out all the cans into a glass pitcher. “Like making the most blasphemous concoction that ever graced all of Teyvat. We all come together with armfuls of coffee and drinks then we sneak into one of the laboratories and pour it into one of the cauldrons.” 

“That’s disgusting.”

“Everyone grabs a glass of it all the same.” She tears open the two packets and dumps it in. “It hits some people harder than others. The first time I had it, I got full marks on the hardest exam in my year.” 

“And what did that cost you?”

“My sleep, sanity, and my reputation.” A nervous laugh escapes her as the can is suddenly crushed in her grip, probably cringing at whatever memory that Asmoday just dug up. 

“Tell me I promise I won’t laugh.”

“I smelled color and tried to draw what it sounded like. I also claimed that my professor was wrong about the moon orbiting Teyvat because it didn’t need another when his bald shiny head was already doing it. Rostam gave me a surprise visit and found me having a conversation with the curtains in a language I don’t even know how to speak before turning to tell him he looked like a rectangle that has never felt the touch of a woman.” 

Azzy looks at the glass she’s handing her with uncertainty. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It’s not as strong as the poison we make every semester, I promise.” Sitting down, she chugs half of it. “They told me it wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. At least I wasn’t the guy who saw god and tried to reach it.” 

“Did he live?”

“Yes. But he almost took five of his friends for a plunge from the roof of the Akademiya. Got suspended for ten days.” 

She wondered if Rhinedottir knew about this kind of thing yet. She certainly needed it. Her brother too. Being captain meant taking longer shifts and making sure everything ran smoothly. Just the sheer amount of work he had to do would put Rosalyn out of commission for several days. They both chugged the drink. And immediately, Asmoday felt her heart beginning to pound. 

“Well then, let’s continue.” 

Rosa’s boyfriend found them both passed out over the table when he came through the door the next morning. 

“I put in a rental for the best horses they have in Fontaine,” he says, carrying her in his arms. “Can you pick them up for me?”

“I’ll handle it.” She could barely walk. 

“Rostam?” Her friend’s voice was slurred as she giggled, grabbing a hold of the man’s face. “You may be a rectangle but I love you all the same.” 

When Azzy left, the bright sun almost blinded her, which didn’t help the pounding headache she had. Hazily, she wandered in the direction of the stables, faces and memories passing by in a blur. 

What was Dain doing right now? Working probably. She wondered if he’d ever stop or if he’d keep going until he dropped dead in the middle of a shift. But then, there was a chance to change that, wasn’t there? 

If she could just find a way to fulfill what the king wanted, then they’d both be set for life. He could finally relax and she could finally make something of herself. Her master would be proud. They might even all live out the rest of their days in peace. 

It sounded so nice. But it won’t happen if she fails. Everything depended on her and tomorrow night. 

Because stealing the key to Celestia wasn’t as easy as it seems. From what she’s heard it would be held on full display for the Hydro Archon’s birthday during a ball. Making Rosa’s dress would be the most difficult task, because all eyes needed to be on her. 

Azzy needed to somehow figure out a way to break into the casing without everyone in the room knowing. She can’t hide behind an alias; her starry eyes would give away she was Khaenri’ahn, which would make it even harder. Because if they were ever found out, all of them would die on the spot. 

And she would never make it home where both Dain and Rhine would be waiting. 

Chapter Text

He heard her before he could see her. The comically evil giggling that’s unmistakably her voice echoes down the hall and he closed his eyes, trying to brace himself for whatever experiment she wanted him to be a part of today. He pauses on picking up the crate of floral decorations. 

When he opens his eyes, she’s squatting in front of him, leaning onto the box and letting the mist flowers frame her face. And there it is again. The smirk that haunts his every waking moment playing on her lips. They’re unusually red, tinted with some orange-ish color. Had she eaten something?

“I have a surprise for you, dear captain.”

He inhaled. “What might that be?” A new automaton, a rogue mutated wolf, an update on the human she’s growing in the test tube. 

She waved a paper in front of him. “I got you the ball off. You won’t have to guard the event anymore.” 

He snatched it from her hands in exasperation and disbelief, his eyes scanning the paper. It’s a notice that she’d put in and one that’s been approved by the king himself.  “Why would you do that?!” he nearly shouted. 

“I told him what happened with baby Kaeya and he agreed to it.”

“I- you what?!” The king knows. He knows about what happened. The child almost died. The prince almost died. Dainsleif can’t breathe. The Abyss nearly got the kid. The ground sways and all of a sudden, the throbbing pain from his shattered ribs come back. He’s going to be beheaded. He clings onto the crate of flowers for dear life as Rhine grabs his shoulders to keep him from straight up fainting. 

A bright laugh follows at his reaction. “You know what His Majesty said? You’re going to be rewarded for your undying loyalty and for saving Kaeya’s life. He was there with him and when he said ‘Dainsleif’...” Her cheeks blushed a little. “Kaeya kept saying ‘Dweef! I want Dweef!’ Isn’t that just the cutest?”

His head is spinning at this point and the flowers still need to be strung. But he’s sure as hell not about to stand up. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“You should have seen the kid. There’s nothing more adorable than Kaeya’s squishy little cheeks!”

“Watch how you talk about the prince,” he warned, glaring at her. “And for the sake of this relationship never do that again.”

“Duly noted,” she smiled in amusement. “It turned out well, didn’t it? Also, I need an armpiece for the ball.”

“So that’s your grand plan,” he scoffed. “Go find someone else. I’ll be visiting Durin.” 

“Oh right, I forgot to mention that His little Highness is expecting you.” She chuckled at the thought of the kid. “He misses you already. You wouldn’t disappoint him, right?” 

He clenched his jaw. Good gods. “I’ll be going for him, and for him only.” 

Finally getting her way, she smiled brightly at him, eyes lighting up in a way he didn’t like. “His Majesty brought half of the capital’s tailorshops to the palace. We can get changed right after we finish our work.”

At least he won’t have to walk all the way downtown. He sighed, trying to pick up the crate. “I’ll meet you after.”

Satisfied, the woman glides away, seemingly floating. No matter what, he couldn’t deny that the woman had grace and elegance. She carried herself like she was royalty. 

To keep him from straining the wounds he received last night, the other soldiers were the ones to put up the flowers. One of his subordinates, Halfdan lifted up the garland he’s holding up. “Are you going to attend the event?”

“Of course I am. That Alchemist forced me to.”

He laughed from a top the ladder and hung it. “Have fun while you’re at it. I can’t remember the last time you had a break, captain.”

“We’ll see if I’m even able to make it.” The throbbing had come back and he clenched his jaw, trying to suppress a groan. Not only that but his shoulder was sore too. When he woke up for work after nearly oversleeping, there was a giant purpling bruise on it. 

Hopefully Rhine won’t know. There’s a good chance she’d poke at it for fun. 

After the decoration came the tables and curtains. One of the servants piled all seven flags and tablecloths onto his arms and he made for the first one that’d just been locked into place. As they worked, his mind drifted, which isn’t something that usually happened. He’d always been focused on the job, never once thinking about anything other than the duty he’s given. 

It seemed that it left along with Asmoday. Ever since she’d gone, he was anything but focused. And Rhine wasn’t helping. He found now that he wanders over to the Alchemist more often than he liked. Despite how annoying he found her now, it was preferable to the silence that would have taken her place without his sister. 

Some part of him was grateful that she made the effort to speak to him everyday. 

The sun was already on the horizon before he knew it but there were still some last minute things that needed to be done. All around him, servants, maids, butlers hurried from one place to another. The event planners had arrived and were scanning everything to make sure it’s all in place. Some of the soldiers guarding the event had already gone to go change. It wasn’t until Halfdan reminded him that he remembered Rhine.

He rushed from the main ballroom and down the hallway, past the various rooms full of people changing. She’d never told him which room she’d be in and he hoped he wouldn’t be too late. 

Someone taps him on the shoulder, sending a jolt of pain resonating inside. He whirled around. A short stout man caring a bundle of measuring tap and holding some fabric smiled up at him. “Are you Dainsleif? The Alchemist sent me.”

He followed him down the hall where the man quickly pulled out a rack of dress uniforms fit for a royal guard. All of them were white and gold. He blinked. “She can’t be serious.”

The man frowned. “Is it too underwhelming?”

“No, no, it’s just… not a color I’m used to wearing.” All of his armor were black and barely any silver. He preferred darker clothing even if it did mean baking in the hot sun. 

His hands sifted through the hangers, trying to look for one that wasn’t exploding with…a unique take. If only Asmoday were here. She’d be able to help him pick out something good. Dainsleif never really cared about his fashion sense and right now he’s not sure if he even has one. Besides work, he doesn’t really go anywhere else. For the festivals that Asmoday loved dragging him to, tight plain black pants and a baggy unbuttoned white shirt would do, along with a pair of black boots. 

He was monotone.

Asmoday would pick the one with a small cape hanging off the shoulder. Luckily, it’s the same side his bruise was on and hopefully, it would give enough flourish to keep Rhine’s hands from touching it. He quickly changed. The ball might already be starting and the hallway sounded empty now. They’re going to be announcing all the guests arriving from the other nations and then the ones attending from their own kingdom. 

He quickly slips it on as the man helps clip the cape in place and a small decorative brooch, signifying he’s with the guard. “Sword sheathe-” It’s white and gold. Then he’s running out, taking the back halls to try and find the pool of Khaenri’ahn guests where Rhinedottir had to be waiting. 

Her dazzling hair color would be easy to spot. One sweep of the room and she’s not there. Was she even later than he was? He waited and waited. With each passing moment, she still hand’t showed. Maybe she ditched him. That thought was irritating. He had half a mind to leave at that moment but then Kaeya popped into his head. 

The kid wanted to see him. So he stayed. 

As the diplomats finished one by one, paranoia gnaws at him. What if she’d gotten hurt somehow? No, she couldn’t. She was capable and if anyone knew how to survive it would be her. She was Rhinedottir, a woman who feared nothing and knew how to do everything. Dancing, alchemy, baking, painting. She knew how to ride a dragon and to play chess. He never asked if she could play it but then again, anything was possible with her. 

He’s announced, and reluctantly, he descended the steps, down to mingle with the other people. 

Something heavy weighed in his chest, giving it a new ache that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t the shattered ribs that was still healing, and it definitely wasn’t coming from the arm. The feeling was deeper, almost as if it were a part of him. If he were to rip it out, he might not survive it. 

As time passed, it only grew. He’d made his way to the side, leaning against one of the large pillars as the musc began. People danced with much less frenzy than that festival with Asmoday and Rhine. There was a grace and elegance to it, making everyone seem like they’re floating. His sister would have loved to be here. She loved seeing the dresses. 

The longing that both of them felt for her never went away. He hoped she’s doing well, wherever she was. 

“Rhinedottir!” The announcer’s voice was faint, but through all of the music and chatter, he’d picked up on her name. “The Alchemist, and pride of Khaenri’ah.”

He didn’t know what possessed him but suddenly he’s running up towards the staircase he’d come down from. So she didn’t abandon him after all, but then, why had she shown up so late? Glancing up, the woman answered his question. 

Rhine was every part Durin, the clouds and herself as she looked out over the entire ballroom. A long white dress shining with diamonds and silver gemstones fluttered with every small movement she made as gold outlining embroidered the cloak that dragged behind her. Floral petals and jutted white feathers decorated her corset as it blended into her sleeves, giving her wings. Her head shined as much as her intelligence, gold and various ornaments clipping and pinning her hair up. 

Against the backdrop of the palace, it seemed as if she were the one who belonged on the throne and for once, he lingered on that, instead of quickly brushing it aside. Treason, it seemed, mattered little now compared to what was standing in front of him. 

He can’t breathe. 

She spots him, giving the warmest of smiles he’d ever seen from someone like her. Even now, some small part of his mind is raising an alarm, warning him. She’s deceiving you. She’s dangerous. 

And yet, it doesn’t stop him from reaching up, holding out a gloved hand, lined with gold, to receive her. 

Gold. 

That name he’d suggested to her all those months ago had come back to him and now the very embodiment of that was standing right here. She’d taken it and worked wonders with so little he gave. 

And again, her eyes locked him into that dangerous gaze of her’s. “Dainsleif…” The soft voice that trailed off didn’t seem to belong to her. It’s something else entirely, something that made him want to hold it in his hands and keep safe with the promise of his sword. He’d never felt it before. 

“You.” He can’t say anything either and it seemed like words had failed both of them. 

They stood staring at each other as people continued to dance and it seemed as if time had stopped only for them. No one else. No one else to break this moment he can’t escape from. 

Her hands were cold as usual, only now there’s some kind of softness to it. His thumb slides over her palm. There were a few rough bumps. Had it been the sewing needle? 

Either way neither of them could take their eyes off the other. That gave him more of a shock than the dress did. She should have made a teasing remark by now but she hadn’t. 

Instead, Rhinedottir is nearly gaping at him just as much as he was to her. 

He tried again. “You look…”

“Stunning?” She finished. The amused smile slowly comes back. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

And then she’s Rhinedottir again, not Gold. Not the deity that just stood in front of him and it struck him then that she could be anyone and anything she wanted, almost like some entity that could shapeshift into whatever she so desired. 

Her eyes travelled up and down teasingly, drinking him in. “My, what is this ravishing sight in front of me?”

“Rhine.”

She laughed and held up her hand, still clasped around his and repeated the same question she’d asked when Asmoday was still here. “Care for a dance now, my knight?”

“Why?”

Her brows turned up in surprise and amusement at the fact he’s not outright rejecting her. “I simply want to have you all to myself.”

“You want everything all to yourself.”

She leaned in, her eyes boring into his own. “Is that what makes me the villain in your eyes, Dain? My selfishness?” Her finger delicately traced the star engraved into his uniform. 

He tried to control his breathing. “What makes you one is not knowing how far you’ll go.”

“Oh, well, since you’ve been so gracious to me, and given your position, it’s only fair that I ease your mind.” Something glints in her eyes. “If you’ll allow me, of course.” 

His heart pounds wildly, both from how close she is and from embarrassment. His subordinates are probably watching this happening with a clear view. His voice catches, trying to say something back, anything. “I have to admit, I’ve never come across anyone as bold as you.”

“The secret is arrogance. But you already know that, don’t you?” 

“I know it more than I would have liked to.” 

“That’s right. You don’t like it.” Her red lips smile up at him. “You love it.”

Neither of them move, he’s so caught up on the way her breath is falling on his neck and face that he barely notices when she pulls back. 

“Well then…” She’s still holding his hand. “I expect you to hurry and refuse me as you always do so I may enjoy myself with someone else.”

He blinked, coming back to his senses. “What?”

“I know my worth, time is expensive, and I know where I stand in your eyes. Say no.”

Somehow that last part made him suddenly hold her back. Was it spite that moved him? Or something else? “Let’s dance.”

Her eyes widened in shock for a split second before another sultry smile is thrown his way. “Dain,” she draws out his name, toying with it as he begins to pull her towards the other dancers. “Beautiful.”

He didn’t know what she was saying that for, but his cheeks began to burn. Maybe it was for something else, but then, Rhine made sure he could hear it. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; your arrogance and selfishness is astounding.” 

“Well then, I guess I can be more specific as to where that comes from. Want to hear it?”

“Do I?”

“It really does come from myself, captain.” She paused, phrasing it more subtly, wondering if he would catch it. “You’d do well to learn how to fall madly in love with yourself, Dain.” 

“Is this another thing you’ve been teaching her?”

“It’s a good lesson, is it not?” 

She had a point, but then, to that extent… his sister’s ego would only be inflated more if her mentor was drilling this kind of stuff into her. 

“Looks like you can do with a bit of practice.” She sighed. “It’s a shame, really. Those beautiful eyes and cold demeanor are wasted on a man who doesn’t know just how ravishing he is.”

It takes him a minute. “Excuse me?”

Her own golden pools glimmer. “They’re so gorgeous, they even have me weak at the knees, just like every other maiden in this kingdom.” Pretending to sigh dreamily, a finger goes to her lips, curling up as she suppressed a giggle. “And I’m a selfish, selfish woman, Dain, I just want to pluck those eyes right out and keep them for myself.”

“‘Eyes are all the more beautiful when they’re full of life’,” he quoted. “So spare me.”

“If not your eyes, then what may I have?”

“Me.” The answer is blurted out before he could stop himself and they stop in pure shock. “I mean-”

“For the whole night?” She quickly cut him off. “Why yes, of course.”

“That’s not-” He paused, remembering that his were watching him. If he walked away now, what would they think? They might even lose all respect for him and he’d be demoted from the title he worked so hard for. Sighing deeply, his hand tightened on her’s. “Yes. The whole night.” Maybe he should take it a step further. “And I want to be the only thing in your eyes.”

“Who knew the best knight in the king’s army would be vying for my attention?” she says, a smirk painting her lips. Without warning, her hand reaches up, gently nudging him to face her. “Look sharp, sweetheart.” Her voice lowers into a sultry whisper. “Jealousy brandishes her sword from the edges of this dance floor.” 

He flushed even more at how close she was within his vicinity. But more than anything he could feel the envious gaze of nearly every member in the ballroom looking at them. The famed captain of the knights, and the pride of Khaenri’ah, making their way to dance together. 

He thanked her on the inside for coming to pick him up at night again. 

“Maybe I want them to be,” he began, trying to think of anything to make her cheeks pink as well. She’d already done it too many times to him and it’s only right that he fought back. “Maybe I want them to know… to know…”

She raised a brow and smiled, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. The words catch in his mouth. And it won’t come out. “Yes?” 

“That… we’re very good friends.” He winced as the last word came out. “And that you will always have my sword by your side.”

This draws a short laugh from her and she quickly stifles it. “Then I’ll do the same for you. ‘Friend.’” She knows. She knows that she’s more than just that to him. “If this is the game you want to play with me, then put your whole heart into it, Dain.”

His expression hardened. “I am.”

“Doubt.”

“I’ll win it, just this once, and never again. I won’t indulge your foolish behavior after this.”

“Then say I’m beautiful.”

He blinked, trying to process it. 

“Say it, Dain. Say it in a way that will have me weak at the knees. Draw it out, tell me how gorgeous I look and turn my cheeks as red as the blood I drew from you, do this all, without blushing yourself.” Her eyes glimmered with anticipation. “Say it with a passion you have never known before, make it poetic and decorate it with the right words.” 

He took a deep breath. “Be mine.”

She snorted. “Forgive me. That’s pathetic.”

His hand squeezed her own as he closed his eyes, searching for some way to win. “You…” he began, trying to find the right thing to say. “You’ve bewitched me, Rhine. One look at you and I wonder how something so extraordinary and brilliant can exist in a world like this. I see you in my dreams, my nightmares, and every waking moment. You are there, a shining beacon against the darkness that I am and will continue to be.” His heart pounds furiously. “You are beautiful, a star fallen from the sky.”

"You sound so unbelievably corny." She tilted her head, waiting for more. This isn’t enough. 

Finally, he resorts to the last card he has. 

“When I gaze upon you, my heart wants you on the throne instead. A crown would suit you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh? That’s treason, my knight.”

“What does it matter?”

"And if the queen was in danger, who would you save? 

"You."

It came out so suddenly that it startled them both. But he can't falter. He'd found an opening. 

"I promise you my sword should you choose to fight, my body should you need a shield, and the devotion of my life." He found his voice, taking a step even closer to her. "Look at me, Rhine."

The slightest tint of pink is growing on her cheeks. He's winning. Her eyes meet his own and he steels himself. 

"I give myself to you. All that I am and ever will be, will belong to you." 

His hands leave her waist and he brings them up to tilt her head up so she could see him more clearly. He's nearly there, but his fingers are starting to shake. He’s breaking, cracking. They’re too close to each other. 

"Reach for the heavens, Rhinedottir, and never look back. Your creations and your brilliance is all that you will ever need." He leaned in, lowering his voice as they both trembled. "And I, for one, would love to see you make it there."

Her lips crashed into his own, and she held him steady as he stumbled in shock. Fireworks explode in his chest, nearly the same ones she'd shot at him that one night as agony plunged into his gut like someone had shoved a sword straight through his body and he would have pulled back. He should have. 

But he didn't. If she’d driven a weapon into him, then she must have also dipped it in poison. Because his heart is threatening to tear out of his chest, his hands and arms around her are trembling and the ballroom had fallen into a drugged haze.

He's still wanting more when she pulls away but her expression stops him. 

It was her last card that she'd been saving to win. From the bright pink on her cheeks, he'd forced her to use it, a last attempt to level the playing field. 

Neither of them won. But neither of them lost either. 

She recovered faster than he did, pulling his hand and leading him back through the crowd. "You learn quickly."

Its then that he noticed the stare that they're getting from nearly everyone in the ballroom. And the little prince. 

"Light!" His Highness points a stubby little finger at them. 

She smiled, gazing up at the throne where his parents sat. 

"Duty calls, Dainsleif." Dragging him behind her, they make their way up the staircase. They can't get there fast enough. 

Because Kaeya leaps off his mother's lap and bounds into Rhine’s arms. “Light!” 

“He’s been saying your name nonstop since you saved him.” The queen’s smile widens fondly. “Or attempting to.” 

“He’ll get there eventually, dear.” The king gazes at Kaeya with a softness he’d never known he had. “Our little boy has taken a liking to you both.”

“Dweef!” Kaeya’s tiny hands reach out for him and Dain hesitates. In fact, his heart still pounding madly from the little game that Rhine played with him makes him take a step back. His hands are still trembling. 

The queen sighs and takes a hold of his hand. “Your Majesty-”

She brings it up to Kaeya who’s finally able to crawl into his arms. And once he does, Dainsleif has never been so stiff in his entire life. One slip, one wrong move, and he’d be hung right th4en and there. 

“Relax, sir knight,” she says. “You saved my child with those hands. It’d do you some good to trust yourself a little more, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he stammered, barely able to breathe. The prince was in his arms. The future of Khaenri’ah is grabbing a lock of his hair and playing with it. Don’t drop him. Don’t drop him. He glanced to Rhine for help who teasingly drew back from them, watching him squirm with the thought that anything could go wrong. 

“Up!” 

Dain blinked. 

“Up, up!”

It takes a second for him to get it and when he does, he shakes his head. Absolutely not. Seeing the expression on his face and the outright refusal of his wish, baby Kaeya’s lips start to tremble, his eyes glistening. “Wait, I mean-”

“Did you say up, Your Highness?” Rhine says, swooping in to save the day. “Is that right? You want up?” 

Slowly, the smile comes back onto his face and he reaches out for her instead. 

“The higher, the better.” The King wears the same smile that she often had. One that held nothing but trouble. 

Rhine swings the prince up into the air, eliciting giggles from Kaeya and ejecting Dain’s soul out of his body. He watched in horror and awe as she continued, somehow throwing the baby up higher each time. 

His hands twitched, fighting the urge to knock the woman over to catch him just in case there was a lapse of judgement. But no one seemed worried. The king and queen were smiling from ear to ear and so was Kaeya and Rhine. There were some concerned whispers from the crowd dancing on the floor below but the majority were watching in amusement as waves of short laughter followed at the spectacle that was the prince and the alchemist. 

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally sets Kaeya back into the queen’s arms before stepping back, a little bit exhausted. 

“Can we trouble you to drop by from time to time?” Her Majesty asked. 

“Of course. He must be a handful.”

“That might be an understatement.” She sits back down, settling Kaeya into the King’s lap. “Thank you both, Light.” A snort escapes the queen. “And Dweef.”

She might as well have set him on fire from the way his whole body is burning with embarrassment. At least she was gracious enough to not announce that attempt at saying his name to the entire ballroom. He bowed, trying to hide his face. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty.” 

“I hope you have a lovely rest of the night.” 

With that, they’re dismissed. Taking Rhine’s hand and guiding her down the steps, he hears a few more snickers coming from her. “You're as childish as the prince.”

She quickly cuts off another laugh to respond. “Then what does that make the queen?”

He sighed roughly, still wanting to disintegrate on the spot. 

“Well, you heard her. Let’s enjoy ourselves. The floor is open.”

“Again?”

“Why not, ‘Dweef’?” 

He shot her a death glare. 

“It’s a cute name.” She leads him towards the floor again just as the musicians began shuffling their papers for the next song. “So captain, are you sure you only want to play that game once?”

“Yes. Never again.”

“That means it’s a draw. You’re a Black Serpent Knight,” she sighed, feigning disappointment. “I thought you would win.”

“You’re not making me do that again.”

“Either way, I’m satisfied.” She smiled. “If you do want to play, I get to have more of my fun. If not, then I get the achievement of tying with you; the best swordsman in the entire kingdom.”

Somewhere inside of him, an idea sparks into a plan. Maybe there was still a way to win it. He’s not sure, but it’s worth a try. The key was catching her off guard. The music starts, the introduction starting to play. That’s his cue. 

“You might be better than me. Don’t sell yourself short.” He bows, pulling her hand close to his heart, lowering his voice so no one else could hear his words. And from the way she stumbled, it did startle her. “You’re the famed Royal Alchemist. The brilliant Gold, able to bring life and death with just a touch of your hand.” He pressed the softest of kisses onto her hand, gazing up at the woman in front of him. 

Shock paints her face, her golden eyes piercing into his own, hanging onto every word and suspended in disbelief. 

It was then, in that moment that he realized what he’s speaking wasn’t false. That the praise is coming from somewhere deep inside of him. “Rhinedottir, you who have stolen my heart and soul like a thief to gold.” Without missing another beat, he tugs her in gently as the orchestra swells. Maybe it’s the music. Or maybe there’s a truth to this strange feeling that he can no longer suppress and push back. 

“I am yours, until I breathe my last.” 

Her lips press into a thin line, the pink still tinting her cheeks. “The game had been over a while ago. Are you still trying to win?”

That had been what he wanted to do. But if he said yes now, he’d be cheating both of them. He went silent, searching for an answer. 

“Are you lying?” She tried again, her voice wavering between uncertainty and hope. 

A moment passes, he slips a hand around her waist as they sway slowly to the violins still playing their solo. “I’m not known to be a liar.” 

A genuine and warm smile meets him and her delicate fingers brush against his face as she slides it down to his shoulder. It leaves a trail of fire on his skin. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to be even closer to her than they already were, to close what little distance separated them. 

She sensed it, and as if to tease him, she suddenly pulls him to dance, the choreography setting them apart. In a flourish of white and gold, she was like a flower blooming during the spring. Beautiful, ethereal, second to none. The strings pulled, and the music swells, his heart moving with her rhythm. 

The notes dashed up the scale and he swept her up into the air, letting her rest in his arms. She held onto his shoulder, eyes fixed on the chandelier above them. Her sleeves became wings. The dress melted into wind. Rhinedottir was flying. 

She looked like a god. But it’s not enough, she wanted more, to reach higher, further, to someplace that nothing and no one had ever touched. And he wanted nothing more than to help her. 

Gold gazed down at him. A hand snakes up his cheeks, gently brushing them against him as if some part of the real her was still underneath, despite the cold glimpse of her terrifying alter ego. 

The strings start melting away, as if to draw his attention to her words. “If you are mine,” she whispers, tracing her finger over his lips. A single violin remains as he sets her back down with her arms still around him, closer than they ever have been before. “Then follow me to the bitter end.” 

Their breaths melt into one, falling into each other as her words startle him. For it was not Gold that asked this of him. It was Rhine. Again, that same uneasiness comes crawling back, but this time, he can’t shake it. Yet an overwhelming feeling surged inside, one he was all too familiar with. Loyalty. Not just to his dear friend. But to whoever she may become. 

She tilts his head down and leans in, both the voices of the ruthless alchemist and the woman he knew combining into someone beautifully worse. “Even if this story is a tragedy, we will be remembered.” 

“Is that all that matters to you?” There had to be more than just that, but maybe he’s reading too much into it. He recalled the time she’d ask him to come up with a new name, something that could easily be written down and immortalized by word of mouth and pages. 

“No.” She smiles. “Are you surprised?”

“A little.” 

“I’ll give it to you straight this time, to ease your concerns… or raise your blood pressure.” 

“Just talking to you already has it through this roof.” And it was a high one. It’s not like that mattered though, and she sees it, reading him like a book. 

“Then it’s best if I tell you at the end. You can take your time letting my words haunt you on the way back after dropping me off.”

Planting a kiss on his cheek, her eyes met his own, unwavering, determined, and smug, knowing that she’d won. Knowing that she’d gotten her way with him, no matter what she answered with. 

But for some reason, that doesn’t bother him as much as it used to, because an irrational, irresponsible part of him wanted nothing more than to fulfill that unspoken promise. No matter the cost. 

Under the watchful one-eyed gaze of their king, a silent shift of loyalty begins, unbeknownst to even himself. All he knew was her dangerous ambition, her infinite greed to reach a place higher than all the gods and the fact that he would carve a staircase out of their flesh and bones for her to get there. 

The music crescendoes. And they dance until silence is left, until everything melts into a drunken haze, until all the chandeliers have burned down to the very last candle. As the dim light casts its shadows, nothing and no one in the world can hear it.

“My real answer, my knight.” Her breath falls in gentle waves on him. “At the end of it all, we may be the only ones to remain.” 

Chapter Text

Asmoday squeezed Rosalyn’s hand nervously. “Do you think there was a reason they moved it underneath?” One of the Abyss came to her that afternoon and they’d just managed to cook up a barely held together plan that may or may not work. 

“A coincidence.” She seemed so confident. Then, “Hopefully.” 

From the back of the line, ocean blue light spilled through the narrow gap as the guests are being announced. 

She tossed a glance back at the exit. 

“It’s such a shame that Rostam can’t be here,” Rosa sighed. And there was a good reason for that; he was their only form of escape. “How long has it been since he and I danced?”

She couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d react to the dress Rosa’s wearing, a fiery red, exploding with flame-like fabric with a beautiful mask to crown it all. 

“If we don’t get caught, you owe me a bottle of Thousand Wind Wine, and this dress.”

“Pick one.” There’s no way she could afford or even get her hands on that alcohol. 

“The dress.”

“Deal.”

The man waves her towards him, leaning down for her name. Asmoday hesitated, her mind scrambling for the one she’d picked out. 

“Sophia Pistis, of Khaenri’ah.”

When she stepped out, all eyes were on her and a hushed silence fell at the mention of her nation. 

Waving, she plastered on a warm smile before descending down the marble staircase, positively radiating the energy that her master had taught her. Slipping unnoticed now would only feed into suspicion. And from the back of her mind, she could hear Rhine’s voice. 

“Strut Azzy, you have to hold your head high!”  

It was a struggle just to walk in heels and she’d been on the verge of giving up. 

“Walk like you’re better than your brother.”

That seemed to do the trick. Imitating her mesmerizing smile and teasing demeanor, she fell into something of a lesser her, hoping that it would help her command and bend the room to into what she wanted it to be.

And despite the rushing streams from all around and the waterfalls crashing from each pillar to the ground in glass chutes, she heard it. 

Heretic. Godless. Sinner. 

She would have taken it personally with the way they said it, as if she was some dangerous animal or wild beast that needed to be watched or scrutinized. 

But just the sight of the archon on the other end of the aquarium-like path was enough to wash all the sudden anger she felt. 

The god was calm, as gentle as water itself who bore the kindest of smiles, looking at her as if she were her own citizen. 

Would justice take her side if she told the truth?

Azzy thought about risking it as she approached to curtsy before joining the guests. Maybe the god deserved to know. 

“Welcome, envoy from the stars.” Her voice alone brought a wave of calm that she hadn’t felt since she left home. But more than that was the shock of how she greeted her. 

Not as someone to be feared or kept away from. 

As a friend. 

“Rise. It’s been a long time since someone from the pride of humankind has stepped foot on this land.” Her voice raised. “And I hope no one here will extend anything less than a warm welcome!”

Stunned by the kindness, she bowed her head, finding her voice again. “Thank you, though I am a little nervous still. My friend has come with me to help bridge that gap…” 

As they turned back towards the staircase, the man waves Rosa forward. 

“La Signora of Mondstadt!”

An audible almost comical wave of gasps and whispering rolls through the crowd, effectively taking all the eyes off her. 

And Rosa with her natural charm and near heavenly beauty cast her doe and siren eyed-gaze on everyone in the ballroom. 

“Did you design that?” the archon says, unable to look away. 

“We both did.”

A moment passed. Rosa can’t greet the archon until Azzy steps away, but the god held a hand. Stay.

“Is that her real name?”

“Yes.” She almost felt guilty for lying. “Her heart can be swayed by whoever calls her The Fair Lady.”

“How befitting. Thank you, Sophia.”

With that, she’s dismissed and Azzy’s allowed to melt into the crowd as the Hydro Archon walks for the staircase, Rosa descending. She curtsied as gracefully as the nobles back home. 

“The waters of Justice have carried me here. I am blessed to be in your presence.”

“Your voice matches your name. And your beauty surpasses and transcends even the heavens themselves.”

To everyone’s shock and disbelief, the god bows down, offering her a hand to dance. “Will you be my Fair Lady?”

Visible pink burns into Rosa’s cheeks as she takes her hand. 

Even Azzy found herself breathless, watching the two take their place on the floor. 

“Remember, my honored guests, tonight I am one of you!”

At this, more dancers joined in as the music crescendoes, drowning the room in a dream once more. 

The two of them were everything that shouldn’t be together, Fire only sought to burn water, and yet they were perfect. Neither one dampened the other as they danced, securing their spotlight for the rest of the evening. 

And her opportunity to slip away with more determination than before. 

Because what would it be like if the archons were freed as well? To be able to dance like the god of Hydro without a worry or care in the world? 

The moment she grabs the pearl, Justice will know the truth first. 

The doors are guarded by knights wearing flowing blue robes, all of them wielding visions of hydro and donning no armor. She’d heard about them from the books her new mentor from the Abyss had given her. 

“If you’re going to steal the pearl, you need to learn everything about whatever is going to stand in your way.” 

That everything were all seven nations. 

As she approached them she remembered a small snippet of what he’d said. 

“Nothing escapes her gaze. In the nation of blind justice, the waters are her leylines. As such, this is what her knights live and die by; Her hammer falls on the scale of judgment as true as divine law. Thus, balance is restored.”  

She’d thought about making a beeline past them and into the hallway. It’s a terrible idea. Instead, she found her way towards the second floor, waiting for the archon to call everyone down for a dance. 

The waterfall pillars that held up the balcony became an open aired tank on the second floor, allowing anyone to admire the view of the straight drop into whatever was beneath the entire room. Mostly, it’s used to drink wine to, or a way for guests to take a breather. Children were mostly kept away but those that did come close, mashed their faces against the glass fence in wonder and awe, leaving a print behind. 

No one’s stupid enough to jump in. 

No one but her. 

The cue comes all too soon and even from here, the water reflected Rosa’s fiery dress and charm as she kept everyone and the god’s attention on her. 

The people are called down, and Azzy lingered by the windows, pretending to gaze at the city below them. She waited for the last straggler to disappear down the steps. 

Rosa’s voice echoes. The archon’s voice follows, profusely thanking her. Then, her friend began to sing, the crowd following suit. 

Azzy chugs the potion in her pocket, takes a breath and dives, the splash covered by ‘happy birthday’. 

The water’s cold and she resisted the urge to scream as gravity dropped her straight down the waterfall and into a pool. 

She scrambled up to the surface, grabbing onto a ledge and hoisting herself up before rolling onto the ground as graceful as a wet rat. It’s freezing. The walls of the room held sleek sheets of ice with the water falling in only serving to feed it. 

Encased in a golden box was the key. 

Feeling the cold already working its way through her skin, she pulled a pin from her hair and began to pick the lock. 

It was a skill she’d picked up during her travels. Camping out with a small group of treasure hoarders never hurt anyone. They were good, hardworking people, maybe not honest but that was besides the point. For a whole month, they kept her fed and alive, teaching her things that she had never even thought about back home, one of them including picking locks. And when she finally left, they held a small feast, with whatever they hunted and gathered for the day before giving her an honorary golden badge to keep and remember them by. 

Her hands began to slow as she worked, and the smell of mora meat, pita pockets and hashbrowns made her mouth water. The moment she completes her mission, she’ll pay them a visit and stay for a night. 

That is, if she knew where they were. They’re always moving so as to not get caught. It didn’t matter though. Maybe she should show Dain and her master the badge first. 

He’d have a heart attack, and his voice never sounded so clear in the freezing room. 

“You were a thief for a whole month?!”

And Rhine’s. 

“I’m so proud of you!” Then it would be framed and hung. 

She could find them after going back home. Because by then, there would be all the time in the world to. 

The small door clicks open and she snatches the thing inside without even stopping to figure out what she was holding. With her fingers numb, she sat by the large vent and waited. There was no other way out from the room. Her only saving grace would be Rostam and the blanket that Rosa dunked into the vat of anti-flammable liquid that he’d picked up. 

A muffled sound of footsteps coming from it was enough to get her to stand. It’s getting harder to breathe, the cold freezing her down to the bone as she stood there, shivering. It made her want to smash through the walls herself to escape it. And each second that passed by with no sign of him began to get on her last nerve. 

“Rostam!” 

A loud bang came from inside followed by a groan.

“Do you want me to die in here?!” 

“I’m working on it!” 

“Work faster!” 

“I would if it wasn’t so tight, I’m suffocating!”

“Then stop breathing, maybe you’ll actually fit then!”

“Do you want this rope or not?”

“Yes please!” 

An audible sigh echoes through the vent as she grabs a hold of it, trying to pull herself up. It’s useless. Her limbs had all but locked and frozen, her clothes stiff from the water and ice as she struggled. Pushing her feet against the wall, she tried again. Only for her soles to slip and slam her into it, dropping her to the ground. 

“Azzy?!” 

She’s going to die here. She quickly brushed the thought out of her mind. “I can’t move! It’s too cold!” With everything, she could barely open and close her hands. It’s as stiff as Dain’s armor.

A moment passed, then, “Tie it around you.” 

It took a few moments of struggling to get it secure. “Alright, I’m ready!” 

And for a man who could lift his girlfriend up with no effort at all while benching enough weight to rival Durin’s, he, out of all people, struggled to pull her into the vent. 

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“It’s cold!”

“Oh so you’re cold, is that it? Your hands are too numb to yank that rope up when I’m the one in the room itself, dripping wet with the key to heaven in my pockets, freezing to death?!” 

“Rostam!” Rosa’s voice carries to them, panicked and breathless. “The god saw Azzy in the water, her guards are rushing down here and they’ve locked the ballroom!” 

Her voice worked like a miracle, and in one pull, he snags her into the vent so hard that she tumbles onto the floor. 

“If I knew she had that much sway over you, I should have had her get the key.” Grumbling, she pushed herself up, waiting for him to start shimmying back the way he came.

He stays put.

“Move!”

He flushed. “I can’t…”

She blinked in utter disbelief. He can’t be serious right now. “I should have hired someone for this.” Turning back to him, she grabs his shoulder. “Rosa and I will never let you live this down.”

“Understood.” His face is redder than anything as the embarrassment hits him. 

“Rosa! Your boyfriend’s stuck, when I push him close enough, pull him out by the legs!” 

A giant snort echoed down the vent and she saw Rostam’s soul effectively disintegrating on the spot. She shoved with everything she still had

His armor makes the loudest scraping sound known to man.

And as the screeching left from the armor, so too, did his dignity. 

It was almost like watching her own brother back home. Dain barely slipped up, but whenever he did, it was the funniest thing she’s ever seen, especially in front of his subordinates. For such a stoic person, muffled giggles would still occasionally fill the air whenever he would walk by. 

He was strict only when he needed to be, and so they all treated him more like one of themselves rather than someone to be feared. Which she guessed, worked in his favor. Even with that dark armor, he wasn’t as scary as the other soldiers. And in their neighborhood, he became the children’s so-called Knight of Dreams. Her brother always returned when it’s pitch black outside, further feeding their imaginations.

More fuel for her master to tease him. She’s probably driving him up the wall this very second. 

Rostam slips back, having his girlfriend finally pull him out as she went to help Azzy up. “Goodness, you poor thing-” Lighting a match, she sets the blanket on fire. Warmth began working its way back through her skin. Rosa’s an angel. 

Clanking metal from the other end of the hall sends them running. Her legs could barely move, the fire blanket being her saving grace. Their horses were just outside, waiting at the bottom of the staircase outside. All they had to do was make it. 

Rushing water slams into the exit and from it, shifted several knights seemingly out of thin air. 

Rostam dashed forward as Rosa pulled her away from a rogue spear thrown at them. “Keep to the sides!” He kicked one of them to the ground, twisting around to knock the sword from another’s hand. In mere seconds, he’d cut them all to shreds with a flurry of movement neither of them could even see before rattling the door. “Locked.”

“Then how-”

“Rostam wait-”

He hurls himself at it with no hesitation and they watched in astonishment as it slams wide open. Their jaws drop. A slight pink tints Rosa’s cheeks. 

“Me next-”

“No.” Azzy pulls her along and they burst outside as more soldiers sprung from the water, swinging wildly. She was quicker than her, having been taught by her Master how to move like sand. They both had to make it one of the horses.

“You get on first!” Rosa pushes her forward, and she nearly falls down the rest of the way, tumbling onto it as Rostam steered his own towards them, hurling a knife at one that got too close. No sooner had she got on, than a ripping sound fills the air. 

“Rosa!” In a single breath, he sweeps her up into him before her head could slam into the edges of the marble steps. Any second later and her skull could have cracked. 

For one, Azzy was relieved as they hurried for the gates that were closing on them. For two, that was not a part of the plan. But there was no time to switch. 

From the sides, soldiers quite literally spill onto the paved ground, their visions glowing as they took their forms. The aqueducts, fountains and floored tanks were beautiful upon arriving. Now, they’d become the bane of their existence, blocking off nearly every way towards the exit.  It won’t be enough to trample them all; there were too many. 

“Rostam, get me to her!” A glowing red ember burns into her hands. 

“There’s no time!” He brings the weapon down on another with enough force shatter a stone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of them caught the flaw in their, plan; that there’s only enough anti-flammable liquid to coat one steed and the two of them. And it’s the one that she’s on.  

He and his horse were the only ones without it. 

Drawing his shield, he hurls it back to Azzy who snatches it from the air just as one of the knights lunge forward, slamming their mace into it with a clang. 

“Rosa, do it!” She hated the fact that there might not be any choice. That Rostam might burn. 

“I-”

His arm tightens around her waist. “Rosalyn.” 

Molten fire shoots up, the small spark from her hands exploding until it engulfed them completely. Azzy ducked under the shield, a wave of heat nearly toasting her skin. Around her, the soldiers had all but disintegrated, their hydro visions rendered useless. The flames left a blazing trail as they tore for the gates, Rostam blocking every blow, cut and arrow coming their way. There were times he slipped. And if the fire couldn’t take care of it, he would, covering her with his own body to shield her. 

The faint glow of blue hydro catches her eyes. 

She remembered it. 

“Oh this? He bought this little thing for me as a souvenir, look at it, isn’t it so pretty?” 

Rosalyn had given the little timepiece back to him before they left for the ball. She didn’t want it to be burned. 

Neither of them knew that it was a vision. 

A blue aura coats both him and their horse, but it’s not enough to make what she’s seeing any less horrifying, all three of them lit on fire. It was the stuff of nightmares in other people’s eyes.

She almost laughed. 

Rosalyn hurls fire at the gate, blowing it open with a clang as droplets of hot metal splatter onto the skin of the knights surrounding them. The sizzling made Azzy wince and she was glad that he’d thrown her the shield. 

The pure fire that Rosa had become was still suffocating. But he never once loosened his hold on her. Only tightening it more, using his own body as a shield, fighting the searing heat and the soldiers as they began to thin out. 

The last of them falls away, and the pursuit finally stops as they reach the middle of the city, racing through the night like stars through the sky. 

The wind carries their breathless conversation to her. 

“Are you alright?” 

His answer was a few coughs as the heat and the vision gradually began to fade. “Never better.” A smile in his voice when he speaks, slumping down with exhaustion. 

“The timepiece…”

“To keep you safe, it flips when you’re in danger and with a snap of my fingers, you would be safe-” His breath hitched, the smoke still inside his lungs. 

“Gods, Rostam.” Disbelief hangs from her voice. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I would have done it a thousand times over if it meant holding the sun.” 

Azzy knew the look he’s giving, the same one she manages to catch on Dain’s face whenever he looked at her master. Disbelief, awe, like it was impossible that someone like her could ever exist and yet there she was, right in front of him. 

The two strangely reminded her of them, and it was comforting, to see home in a foreign land. 

Chapter Text

His thoughts were a jumbled mess the whole way back, one of the most prominent being that he was guarding the sun. 

Every piece of jewelry, all the feathers, her gold, the lining on her dress, everything shined, reflecting the moonlight back onto him. They talked of things that mattered little, mostly her. But he could barely stay focused. Leaving the ballroom had little effect on the world around him because it felt like he’d taken a piece of a dream when they left, and when she occasionally glanced at him, those molten sundrops for eyes only solidified that. Her hands would brush against his, and despite the little bumps and tears on her fingers from the sewing needle, he didn’t dare linger on the touch for long. 

Because against his own, he felt like he dimmed her a little, calloused, scarred, stitched. 

She rattled on about how fun the night had been, bursting with excitement and euphoria in her own way, twirling her gown and teasing him. When she climbed a little ways up the hilltop, she stopped. Then turned to him, finally pausing.

“What is it?” he asked. 

She glanced down, then stared at him with the softest of expressions. “You look like the moon.” Her voice worked like ecstasy, echoing and tumbling down the hill to him as if the wind itself was carrying her words. 

His breath caught. “The moon?”

“You’re beautiful, my knight. Princely, even. White suits you at night.” 

“And the day?” 

“Black, what you usually wear. Poetic, isn’t it? Would I be your sun? Would you be my shadow then?” The question is more of a muse than anything else. 

And for a brief moment, she’s looking at him like he was everything. 

His chest lept. He tried to clench his fists, tried to hide how it trembled with the way she’s gazing at him. 

She bent down, hugging her knees as the tilt of the hill made her look as if she’s bathing in a pool of moonlight. “I do wonder, who am I to you now, Dainsleif? Someone you still loathe? Or will I become something you’ll regret ever knowing?” 

A cold wind seemingly pushes him up towards her, her beauty stealing away all the words he wanted to say, instead, he hoped he could show her. Reaching up, he took a hold of her hand, pulling it to his lips and planting a kiss softer than the touch of rose petals. 

She smiled quietly. “From the moment we met, you looked at me like I was the sun. An annoyance, irritating, something to block out. Yet, there are moments where I catch a glimpse of you where I’m all the light that’s left in a quickly dimming world. Or all that you will choose to see, in spite of everything else.” 

“When did you come to read me so well?”

“People are stories, pages waiting to be turned. Some are more complex than others, but every little intricate detail fascinates me. You are one such person.” Tilting her head, her eyes pass over him. “There’s something deeper about you and your sister, as if you hold all the wonders and horrors of a thousand people, of another civilization more ancient than the Eclipse itself, everything, within your eyes. Whether this will doom us or not, either way, I’ve become a moth to a reflection of light. Asmoday’s more well-versed in hiding things. Not you though, you’re an open book.” 

“Do I give myself away that easily?”

“Not to others, no. They don’t have the time or ability to notice. But to me, every moment I spend with you is another page written. And I find my name penned among them with a mad, feverish repetition like you could never get enough of me, never enough of writing down each letter. Our stories have become entangled with each other, and yours have become wrapped dangerously around mine.” 

Her eyes turned to the moon behind him. 

“I’m no fool, sir knight. You were right to be cautious of me in the beginning, because my creations and what I work with may very well spell the end of this land we both love. You were right about so many things, I am a greedy, selfish woman, I do look at people and things like subjects to be tested on. And yet I can never stop reaching for more.  Do you think I’ve gone mad with it? Do you think I’ve yet to take things too far?”

The smile on her face slips just a little. 

“Would you follow me then?”

He can barely piece together or form a coherent thought. With the way she put it now, everything was uncertain, especially of matters concerning the future. But what did that matter now, in the face of the present? 

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it.” 

Her eyes positively glowed at the implication of that idea. She took hold of his hand, and pulled him up the hill, leveraging herself to stand. They cross her front yard to the door where she turns back to him. “Well, goodnight, Dainsleif.” Some part of him didn’t want the night to end just yet. She pushes it open.

An Abyssal creature stood in her kitchen, black smoke spilling onto the ground like fog in a cemetery. 

He shoved her back, pulling out his sword, heart pounding away inside his chest. 

Well, he got his wish. Just not in the way he wanted to. 

“I come bearing no ill will.” 

“Get out.”

“Wait, Dainsleif-” She lowered his arm. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you reasoning with that thing-”

“I have a message from the one named Asmoday.” 

He blinked. “What?” Immediately, he moved for it. “What did you do-”

“She has learned how to impart some of her consciousness into whatever she desires.” The thing pulls out a book, leatherbound and brand new. 

Rhinedottir’s eyes widened. ‘Is that…” 

The cover read ‘Plant Mutations A-Z, First Ed.’ And as it flipped the book open, a white shining light illuminated the room. Pearly white, the color of his sister’s hair and to their astonishment, it spoke with her voice. 

“Hello! Gosh, it’s been so long, I don’t know what to say!” 

He reeled back in shock.

“How are you two doing? It’s been so fun here, there are so many things to see! I visited a museum the other day and guess what? I can do things by myself! Which means I can do whatever I want and you can’t stop me!” 

“Azzy-” Despite the suddenness, he knew that was clearly aimed at him. 

“I’ve never gotten sick once and I can last three days on top of a mountain without any food or water, trust me, I tried it. But don’t worry! It was fun. I finally got to the next step and there’s only a little time left before I come back home. So I’ll be back soon! Don’t worry about me, I’ve made so many new friends, oh, here’s Rosa- Rosa! Say hi!” 

A muffled greeting comes from behind her. 

“When I get back, I’ll tell you all about how I snuck into the Hydro Archon’s birthday party and stole something from her basement-”

His jaw dropped. 

“If there’s time, I’ll drag Rosalyn down to come meet you guys. Sending you this message was a reward for being able to move forward with the king’s plans. Oh, I couldn’t wait to give this to you Master so, it’s your’s to keep! If I find anymore editions of this book, I’ll try to bring it all back- there’s like, fifty of them. But anyways, I hope you guys are doing well. Dain, the next time you receive a message you’ll be able to keep it too and it’ll mean I’m even closer to coming home! I got you something you might like but it’s a surprise. I can’t wait to come back though! There’s no bakery in Teyvat that has cakes like the ones on our street. So you better have a lot of money saved up because I am going to buy out every stall the minute I’m back! Anyways, that’s all the time left in this recording-soul-device thing. I don’t know how it works. I’ll be home soon so don’t worry about me!” 

The light goes out, and then he’s left gaping, trying to process what everything that just happened. Her words had been too quick and already, the sound of her voice was beginning to fade. The only possibility he could think of why the thing was showing it to him was that his sister’s being held hostage. Or some other horrible scenario he can’t think of at the moment. It’s the only logical reason that made sense. 

“What have you done to her?”

“Why ask that question?”

“This can’t be all there is to it. Who are you?” 

The thing closes the book, setting it down on the table. “Her mentor.” 

He turned back to Rhine. “But aren’t you-”

“I was, until she was selected by the king to go on the journey she’s on now.” A frown replaced her usually calm demeanor. “She did not tell you of any such thing?” 

“You knew about this?!” It’s like being pummeled in the face with a brick, over and over. “You didn’t tell me-” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Because visible confusion and worry spreads across her face as well. 

“It may perhaps be better if I tell you that your sister helped us of her own volition. We simply told her the truth and let her roam free among our archives with the occasional exam.”

“I don’t believe a single word that comes out of you.”

“Your king chose her for a reason and she’s set on a path that will bring this nation to glory. Isn’t that where your loyalties lie?” The thing drew closer. “Do you know what she told me the day before she left? She hoped to make you proud. So why do you regret what you made her do? What you wanted?” 

He had half a mind to swing, but then, the thing was right. All he ever talked about with her was his job and that involved the king and his family. She and Rhine were right about him being the king’s dog, being something that couldn’t even think for himself. 

His sister was in the lands above because of him. 

It’s eyes turned down at him, cold. “I loathed to see her go, as any good mentor would. In my opinion, she is still but a child, reckless. It was her rush to make you happy that drove her to leave. I hope you understand why I admittedly, am slightly irritated.” 

“And my broken ribcage was the result of that irritation?” 

“That was not me. It was another that had been overseeing Gold’s creations and work, from the very beginning. You interfered with that.”

“And what exactly did I do?”

“You opposed her. And the Abyss does not tolerate opposition. If I had to guess, The Will must have gotten desperate, and that Herald was getting impatient. Ambition does not stop for any earthly thing. It does not stop for you.”

He thought back to the time when Durin was unveiled, how he’d left since something had caught his eyes. And where the Abyss nearly choked him to death behind one of the pillars, away from the crowd of people and behind the stage Asmoday was on. 

That had been a warning. 

And so was the time where he’d been lured out with the Prince as bait. 

“Is that why you aren’t attacking me right now?” 

“There’s no reason to. I am here for your sister and that’s all.

“Why was she chosen in the first place? Why does the king need her, of all people?” 

“It was foretold, as the rumors go, that she is our saviour. Prophesied to become our messiah and bring divinity back into this world. Personally, she might have been chosen for her ambition. As Gold was. Where is your’s, Dainsleif?” 

“If I stop her, what will the Abyss do? If I leave right now, to get her and come back?”

It narrowed what he assumed must be its eyes. “She asked nearly the same thing when she wanted to become one of us, and when I tried to keep her from leaving. She was not ready. My answer was if not you, Gold, or the king, then I would have stopped her myself.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Think what you wish. I’m only her messenger.” 

The thing turns to leave, waving a hand and summoning a swirling mass of what he could only label as stars. His heart lept at the suddenness, some of the hostility beginning to recede. Because he still needed answers.  

“Wait.” 

It stopped. 

“It’s unfathomable to think that she’d ask to become a part of the Abyss. Why?” 

He couldn’t tell if it scoffed or sighed in impatience. 

“Naivety, a quality that all children have. And as I’ve said, something that made her unfit for the road. Assuming that power is all one needed to fulfill her duties to the king.”

“You mentioned that you told my sister about some truth. What is it? What could possibly convince her to help you?”

Something brief flickered in what he assumed to be it’s eyes. “You are no scholar, Dainsleif. You are but an agent with which to be used and your only purpose is to kill in the name of whatever you believe in. If I tell you the truth, will you finally think for yourself? Or follow whoever you put your faith in, into oblivion?”

He clenched his fists, his mouth drying. 

“Do you regret what you’ve become? You chose this path long ago and now your loyalties have consumed you until you are but a husk of yourself. You killed for your sister, then for your king. And if my observation of you is correct, you now pledge yourself to this woman before you.” 

“I only want to understand my sister, to grasp why.” 

“After all these years, only now, after she’s gone, do you seek to open your heart to her?” The thing scoffed. “Your family deserves more than that. Asmoday, deserves more than that.” 

It swipes a hand across, and from the air, a portal made from nightsky ink and blotches of shining stars swirled in a bottomless pool. The mere sight of it made him light headed. 

“It is not within my ability to tell you the truth. If you must know it quickly, someone else would impart that wisdom upon you. Abyssal teachings take years, decades to perfect. Your sister was only able to under the guidance of Gold, and my tutoring.” 

“Can you fight?”

“Why ask?”

“My sister is alone in the lands above.” Only now were the thing’s words starting to hit. “Please, watch over her. Keep her safe while I’m not there.” 

A brief silence fills the air. Then, “That might be the most honorable thing you’ve done in years.” And without a promise, it leaps inside, disapeparing quicker than a breath. And leaving them in silence.

Rhine’s delicate hand touches his shoulder. “Dainsleif, I-”

“No. It was right.” He glanced at her, finding guilt and shame crawling up inside of him. “I’ve always been so stubborn. Strange, isn’t it?” 

She says nothing, only moving to the table where the Abyssal creature had set down the book. Her fingers glide over the cover, as gently as if she was holding Asmoday herself. 

“Do you think she hates me?”

The Alchemist smiled. “No. You’ve hurt her with that tongue of yours, but she can never come to hate you nor me.” She holds it up to her nose, taking in the scent of the fresh pages. “That Lector only serves as a reminder that she’s still the same Asmoday that we know. That she hadn’t changed even after all this time. And that she’s still thinking about us, of those at home.” Finally, she looks at him with an apology in her eyes. “I should have been more honest to you about where she was going.”

He shook his head. “My lack of understanding is purely my fault. If I’d only stopped and made time to talk to her more… if only I hadn’t been so caught up in my work-”

“What that Lector failed to mention was the toll it took on you to work for someone you love. They’d lost what it means to sacrifice yourself for your family.” 

Somehow, her words brought some kind of light back into him. She didn’t negate or try to argue against the harsh truth of the Abyss. No, there was another perspective to it that he just hadn’t seen yet. 

She grasped his hand, as if he was made from feathers and cotton and he wondered when she’d gone so soft. “If you want to make it up to her, be kinder, relearn who she is, and for the love of all that is Khaenri’ah, don’t mention the king.” Her eyes glance at the book in her hands. “The Abyss right now is not your enemy. Certainly not the one watching over her for us.”

“It’s almost like you’re defending them.”

A fond expression crosses her face. “Because part of my work is to understand how creatures and things from all walks of life function and feel. We don’t survive purely on logic and reasoning. Emotions are inherently what makes us human and gives things life. And I see that in them, especially with that Lector.” 

“I still can’t bring myself to believe it.”

“But you asked for his help.”

“‘His’?”

“He was a man once too. A long time ago. But no matter what grotesque form he presents himself as, he still has his humanity. He cares for your sister. And that’s when you have to wonder, did he ever have a family of his own? Do you think he had a daughter or a sibling that looks like her? This is what gives me faith in them.” 

“Is this why they’re drawn to you?”

“They’re drawn to my ambition, as well as Asmoday’s. The Abyss has their own goals and dreams they want to achieve. I have mine, and your sister as well. The only one without something they want is you.” 

His hand traced over her palm, a flurry of questions and mixed feelings kicking up like the winds of a thunderstorm during spring. “Would it be wrong for me to follow you?”

“Follow what you believe in. Being mine doesn’t mean you can’t have other things you’d like to do.”

“Is that what this is?”

“It’s what you promised me. My only question now is whether you’d shift your loyalties again, to something else.”

“I… don’t know.” 

She sighed tiredly, a small smile on her face before going back to the table and plopping down with the gift his sister gave her. “Take your time then. We have all of that in the world.” A shuffling of pages fill the air, and he watched her face light up with fascination as she began to read.

He’d already given his word to her, that he’d be there by her side until the end. And yet, here she was, offering him a way out. A different path than the first choice he’d made in a long time. With both the Lector’s and her voice echoing inside of him, was it right? 

Was he making the right decision?

He swallowed, pushing the thought out of his head. Rhine also gave him time, because after all, there was no rush. Besides the Abyss, a peace that he thought he’d never see had descended upon Khaenri’ah, with each day more mundane than the last. He could see it on everyone’s faces too. The people were colorful and bright before, but this kind of quiet only amplified it tenfold. 

Because when Asmoday comes back, she’ll be gaping at everything surrounding their little neighborhood and the city itself. She would come back to paradise. Even now, his knights were seeing less and less work, there was no danger here. Outside of their shifts, he’d caught them painting, playing with the children, learning things they never would have if they were on the clock. 

There would be no excuse for him this time to continue being the way he was. And in a sense, that finally gives him peace of mind. For once, he allowed himself to linger on that thought and nothing else. 

And the room was suddenly too dark, too silent to not fall asleep right there. Years of overworking himself was already beginning to creep up on him. 

Rhinedottir skimmed through a couple more pages before closing it with the biggest grin and noticing him still standing there by the door. Well, now he’s leaning on it. “It’s too late for you to go back. Stay here for the night.” 

“I don’t want to impose.” Though the idea was enticing; he might tumble the rest of the way down her small hill. 

She’s already taking off the coat from his shoulders. “You just don’t like accepting help do you?” 

A stiff kind of awkwardness nearly pulls his exhaustion away. Nearly. “Then if you don’t mind, I’ll… I’ll take the couch.” 

“I’ll fetch you a blanket.” She leaves the room unbuttoning her cloak as well and sighing in relief. Her outfit must have been heavy as well. 

The moment he sits down, he’s knocked out. Every ache in his bones and body flared and the only thing that could probably (hopefully) stop that, was sleep. 

When Rhine comes back, she finds him a sprawled out mess, quite undignified for a knight of such high caliber, much less the captain of the royal guard. Biting her tongue, she struggled to hide a snort, wishing there was a way to capture the moment and show it to him later. 

And maybe hold it over his head until he died. 

She pulled the blanket over him as his breath fell heavily, tired and quiet on her face. 

All of a sudden she could see nearly every scar and tear etched upon him, that made up who he is. From his slight frown to the way his brows are drawn together in weariness and a slow agony that he’d pushed and locked away inside of him. All of it, bruised, bandaged, and stitched back together. 

Asmoday never told her what their childhood had been like. Maybe because the topic was never brought up. Or maybe she didn’t want to say. But now, here, from her brother, Rhine could finally catch a glimpse of what might have happened. 

Her chest tightened a little. 

“You are truly easier to read.” She brushed away the bangs from his face, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And I am amazed at how you’re still standing.” 

He shifted slightly, his head turning towards her when she lifted her hand, as if her touch was the only guiding light he’s ever had. He’s never looked more ragged and hazy until now, like a dream. Like he’s made of glass. Stained. Fragile. 

“Beautiful.” 

Chapter Text

She would not drag Rosalyn nor Rostam up the mountain, despite how much they both wanted to. The path she was taking now was simply too dangerous and now, trekking up a snow-covered path, her intuition rang true. The white dust came all the way up to her knees, the biting cold tore at her face as the icy wind carried it, beating her back. 

Still, more than anything, she had to keep going. With only the thought of going home and fulfilling the king’s wish on her mind, it pushed her further. She had to make it. There was no other choice. 

Because the top of the mountain held a celestial nail. The key needed a connection to the heavens, even something broken, to work. And the easiest one to get to was the one at the top of Sal Vindagynr. 

Hugging herself tighter, she trudged through the snow. Through the raging blizzards that tormented her, illusions formed. Her Master had taught her not to pay any attention to it. That it was all in her head and no matter what, to not stray from the direction she’s going. Doing so meant death. 

Asmoday continued, her ears perking up as what sounded like hallowed whispers flew to her in the wind. They weren’t real. Just auditory hallucinations. The resting point was near, and so was her grip on reality. As her limbs froze over, she can’t help but listen to it, the haunting sounds amid the stormy silence. 

‘Stay’

Red flag number one. Don’t listen to it, especially considering where she was. It only urged her to go against it instead; a habit of hers that she was now grateful for. Dainsleif never really liked it back home, always doing the opposite of what he wanted her to. 

“Don’t go out at night by yourself. Don’t set the kitchen on fire. Don’t jump into the moat around the palace.” 

She’d done all of those things. 

‘Listen’

Her murmur came quiet and under her breath, hoping not to use too much energy. “Fuck off.” The dark silhouette of the cavern was right there, a small dot in the distance. But the wind picks up, and she digs her feet deeper into the snow. Getting blown off here meant a painful death into whatever jagged rocks and ruins she passed so far. She doesn’t do pain. 

‘Demon, stay’

She hunkered down, barely managing to pull her hood up in time before the blizzard sweeps a pile of snow crashing into her. 

‘Queen, born of sin’

Her footing was coming loose.

‘Born of sky’

A giant blow from the wind knocks her loose, she barely manages to dig her heels in again as her knees drag two lines in the snow. 

‘Falls’

With one final rush from the wind, she’s hurling through the air, with the mountain quickly growing smaller. She shrieks, unable to stop the rapid descent as she plunged into and back out of the snow, clawing, grabbing at anything and everything. There were things she still had to do, people still waiting for her. But in face of gravity, it meant nothing. She tumbles down, towards the edges of a steep drop. With one final, desperate attempt, she grabs at a jagged rock, sending icy pain dashing up her arm as trickles of blood stream down from the tips. But the force loosens it, and she slips. 

An Abyssal portal appears in front and snatches her arm before she could go over. And a Lector steps forth, pulling her back further away from the edge. 

A myriad of emotions kick up as violent as the storm around them. Something hard weighs in her throat and chest, only now feeling her heart thrashing inside. The sob builds and tears blur her vision, nearly freezing the corners of her eyes. 

Something behind him cracks, loud enough to snag their attention. From the snow, a thin line forms, as the pace with which it’s breaking quickens. With one hand holding her, he whips open another portal, and pulls her inside just as the edge crumbles and falls away. 

They land inside the cave she’d marked before beginning the trek up the mountain, breathless and in shock. As soon as he lets go of her, she gives out, crumbling to the floor in exhaustion, trembling from the cold. But none of that mattered. 

Because finally, someone from home is here. 

“Asmoday-”

A soft hiccup escapes her. It’s enough to open the floodgates. She sits there on the stone-cold floor choking back tears as she sobbed endlessly, half-finished thoughts, jumbled memories and the aftershock of the scare rattling her from the inside out. “Marbus, I-” She could barely make out any words, the cold snuffing it out. 

Weak as the man was, he still manages to walk to her, now unable to stay in the air due to the nail. Gradually, the molten lava that was his body heat up, engulfing some parts of him in flames. And giving her a source of warmth. 

She cries harder. 

He awkwardly reached out, holding the top of her head. It’s almost enough to drive away everything she’s feeling, if only to laugh. She wiped the tears from her eyes, doing her best to clear it out and calm down. “Thank you.” Sniffling fills the cavern for a brief while. 

Along with the faint sound of her hair sizzling underneath his hand. 

Shocked, he quickly pulls back. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” The mumble was quieter than anything, but it’s enough to let him know she’s okay. 

Relief filled his face along with a slight annoyance. The kind that said ‘I told you so.’ 

“This is why you should have waited.” 

Without a word, she kicked his leg a little. “What are you, my mother?”

The shape of his eyes turned down, and she knew he was unhappy. “I am your mentor. Any good one would worry about their student.” 

She sighed, huddling closer as her skin slowly thaws. “Your powers are weaker here. How did you find me?”

“The princess entombed within this mountain allowed her voice to be heard.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean of Sal Vindagynr?” The civilization had been destroyed so long ago, when Khaenri’ah was still nothing but a concept. 

“Her consciousness is slipping. She still has one final warning.” 

“What is it?”

“She did not say.” 

That was enough to get Azzy moving again. The pitstop in the cavern was supposed to be temporary anyway, and the sooner she reaches the princess, the better. She deserved to rest, after all this time. “Well then, it’s time to go.” Pushing herself to stand, he firmly grabs her by the arm and sits her back down. 

“No.” 

Dain had always been strict about her safety, but the Lector was even more so. There were a few quiet moments in the Abyss where she’d wondered what he was like before he became this… thing. Before he allowed himself to be reborn into a fiery monster with flames for eyes, rocks for armor and lava for all the insides that mattered. Her master had looked at him with a curiosity when they first met, like he was a thing to be studied. 

Thinking of her and home felt as warm as the heat the man was providing. 

“Did you see my brother?” 

“He remains the same. Irritating.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “Care to elaborate?”

“He’s like a child,” he scoffed. “A child with a sword in his hands.”

“You said the same about me and Rhine.” 

“All of you are children running around with no idea what you’re doing.”  He looked at her. “And the most reckless out of all of them is you.” 

“But admit it, all three of you enjoy the stupid ideas I have and all the color and fun I bring.” 

“The only thing you bring to me are migraines more painful than being reborn with lava for entrails.” 

Her laugh pierces the air, echoing through the small cavern. “So what’s the least painful way to go about it?”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Ugh.” Crossing her arms in a pout, she glares at him. “Isn’t the Abyss the very core of who you are? Isn’t that what drives you? You should be happy about how much I want to, not trying to stop me.”

It takes a moment for her to notice the quiet that had suddenly fallen upon him. And if he were still human, anyone could have seen the dazed look in his eyes. As if he’s seeing something behind her. The flames on him flickered ever so slightly. 

“Marbus?” Her voice grows quiet. 

He doesn’t reply, only continuing to stare past her. A somber air fills the tiny cavern they’re in. She wondered if it was right to ask him. Questions had sprung from her the moment Rhine introduced them, and she’d dug her nails into her shoulders to stop them. Since then, the only topic of conversation was the journey, the books, the truth. 

But she’s going on what could be a suicide mission. If there was something to know about her second mentor she had to ask. 

“Do you remember something?” 

More silence. 

“I’m sorry about what I said… I don’t know what I said but I’m sorry. And thank you… for caring about me.” 

Slowly, he looks back, then cast his gaze down. “I joined the Abyss for my daughter.” 

Her jaw dropped. 

“I do not remember her face, I cannot remember her name, or why I had to do it for her.” 

“Is she…”

“There is little chance she is alive now.” He turns to her, flames growing dimmer. “Rest now, Asmoday. Before you continue.” 

And for once, she listened, sliding herself from the wall to the ground and trying to get comfortable. It’s difficult, what with the ground being mud and frozen slush. Still, it’s the least thing on her mind. “You should go back. The nail is sapping your energy and you can return once you’ve regained it if you’re so worried.” 

“It matters not what happens to me as long as the Abyss’ Will is done. I will go for the last chapter of this road until I cannot go further.” 

That only makes her feel worse. Guilt at the thought of his dimming fire eats away inside her chest. The same thing she felt whenever Dainsleif nearly falls asleep on top of his food after coming home. “Idiots,” she grumbled under her breath. “Both of you are idiots.” 

Marbus only sighed, and she resigns herself to a cold, restless sleep. 

. . .

“What do you want to eat?”

She pointed at her mouth, then opened her arms wide, making a half circle with it before jumping up and down. 

“Cake?” Her brother smiles. “Okay then, sit down. I’ll be right back.” 

He doesn’t return until much, much later. And with a cut on his jaw. With dirtied hands holding what he promised, he still finds the strength to run to her, beaming. “Look Azzy!” He shoves it toward her. “It came right out of the oven. Hurry and eat!” 

She breaks off a piece and held it up to him. He took it and she watched as he ate it all in one bite. She goes to break off some more. 

“You need it more than I do.” 

They sit down and lean against the wall as she bit into it. Back then, maybe the only sweet thing was the food the people ate. And even that had been tainted with a dullness. A kind that stemmed from the wreck that was Khaenri’ah, at least that’s what he’d told her. He never spoke of it, and she never was able to remember much. Just the fact her voice had all but gone. 

. . .

“I’ll be gone for the whole night. Make sure you lock all the windows and double-check the door before you go to sleep.” He’s already pulling on his boots and tying on his wristguards. 

“Again?” She sets down the garland, heart sinking all the way to her feet. It would be another dark night full of shadows and nightmares. Whenever he had to work overtime and didn’t come by the time the sunset, she’d bury herself in a mess of blankets in her room. Her only source of comfort was the little owl he got for her during one of the midsummer festivals. 

“You’re getting bigger and you need to start learning how to be on your own when I’m gone.”

Her eyes widened at whatever horrible implication that meant. “Where are you going?” It comes quieter. 

Finally sensing it, he turns to her, quickly amending it. “I mean, with the amount of work I need to do to get that promotion, I’ll need to be gone for the whole day sometimes.” He saunters over and ruffles her hair. “Don’t worry too much. I’ll be back soon.” 

And with that, the door closes on her. And the tiny three-roomed house has never felt more large and empty. 

She only told him how scared she was once. His only reply had been “Nothing and no one will be able to hurt you here. So, don’t be.” Of course that did not help at all. He was never one to be good at comforting people. 

Besides, it’s better to not worry him further by telling him that she’s afraid to be alone. He’s doing his best to keep them afloat. Money was tight and without telling him she’d begun to eat a little less too. To save some food for him whenever he got home because otherwise, he wouldn’t eat altogether. 

She wanted to work alongside him as well, so he wouldn’t carry their burden alone. But the age at which she could join had been set and even if it hadn’t, he would have refused anyway for reasons he wouldn’t tell her. 

. . .

He’d lost something in his eyes. 

It came slowly, building up over the years as he continued to take on more and more work. A change had taken place inside of him, and at first, she dismissed it. He was probably just tired. But that doesn’t explain the growing lack of conversation that would happen on a daily basis. Whenever she asked about his day, it revolved around the king, the family, replacing every other topic like a parasite feeding on words. 

Today was like any other, except for the fact that he’s all kinds of angry at max capacity with her right now. 

“I give you all the leniency you’ve been asking for, and you take that and go outside the city?!” Dainsleif never raised his voice at her, but from what she’s seen whenever the kids she played with got in trouble, she’d rather not find out what he sounded like when he did. 

She hung her head, avoiding his furious gaze. 

“Do you know how dangerous it is, do you have any idea what could be out there?!” 

Resentment bites at the corners of her cheeks, as her blood boiled, mixing in with shame and guilt. 

“I’ve told you so many times, there are people and things out there who would kill you without a second thought, monsters that could tear you to shreds in an instant! And what then?!” 

Her fists clenched, feeling the stinging burn of tears. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Asmoday.” 

“That’s bullshit!” It leaves her mouth before she could stop herself. But then it’s too late. Because now she can barely see him through the tears and the red-hot anger clouding her vision. “Every single thing I want to do I have to ask if you’ll let me, the first time I went over to our neighbors, you said they could poison my damn food! Do you have any how lonely it gets here, back when you wouldn’t even let me outside?! All I could do was watch the other kids playing from the window, and even that was shut for some stupid reason!” 

The outburst nearly makes him jump and she continues, not wanting to see how much angrier he could get. 

“You didn’t use to be like this Dainsleif! And the city gates were just opened today, it’s safe! There were hundreds of people and guards there, I didn’t even go that far! I only went up the first hill and came back because I knew it would worry you!” It’s more than frustrating as every emotion built up spills out uncontrollably. She slams her fists on the table, sobs wracking her body. “There is nothing out there! All those monsters, thieves, all those people who want to steal my eyes, they’re not there!” The shriek felt enough to bring the house down. “Where are they?!” 

A shocked and stunned silence follows, occasionally punctured with her hiccups and wails as she desperately attempted to wipe her tears. And it’s the first time in so long that she’s seen genuine hurt show on his face, the way his mouth opened slightly and how wide his eyes got. As if all her screaming had silenced any other berating that might come from him. 

She can’t stand the suffocating atmosphere anymore. It’s night. She shouldn’t be going out, but it didn’t matter. 

Reduced to an absolute mess of a person, there’s still one burning question in her that she never had the chance to ask. 

“What are you so afraid of?!”

He doesn’t answer. 

The door slam shuts behind her as she runs out, every horrible emotion and pain ripping through her chest. It’s cold outside, and it found a place to take hold inside of her replacing the warmth that had been there before. Aside from wiping her eyes, she crossed her arms, trying not to shiver as she ran. There was no place in mind. A few times, she’d tripped and stumbled and she felt like falling right there in the middle of the street, sobbing endlessly. 

She hated him. She can’t. None of it made any sense and he’d begun to hold secrets, keep things from her if he felt like it didn’t matter. That part didn’t hurt as much as the agony she felt watching the world move on without her from the inside of her home. When a school system was finally put into place, only then did freedom come and since then, she’s been taking every chance she could get to go outside. 

Because home, was like a nest inside of a cage. Yes, it kept her safe. But it’s never felt more immobilizing. 

When the world finally stops swaying and the breath returns to her, she’s sitting by the moat that the other kids had jumped into with her. Slowly, the sobbing dies, and a numbness encased her heart. Her anger dies, the resentment too, if only to help her resign to the fact that yelling at him like that had been wrong and she should apologize. The face he made was one she’d rather not see again. Cut and worn. 

All that’s left is her sniffling to fill the air. 

There’s no telling how much time has passed, except for the moon shifting from the left to the right by a little. Her teachers hadn’t gotten to that part of the sky yet. Hugging her knees, she continued to watch the water ripple. 

Someone’s footsteps grow louder behind her. And without needing to look, it’s Dain. Breathless and gasping like his superior made him do ten laps around the whole palace. 

Like he’d run all over the city looking for her. 

“Azzy-” He sputtered, trying to catch it. 

Strangely it reminded her of how he was back then. 

“It’s… it’s getting dark out here. Come home.”

“Leave me alone.” 

Instead, he hobbles a few feet closer, completely exhausted. She keeps her back turned on him, fighting the influx of tears again. They don’t speak for a moment, letting her sniffles be all that there is. 

Then, “We… let’s go outside the city tomorrow. How about that?”

“No.”

An audible sigh leaves him as he racked his brain for something else. “I’m getting paid tomorrow. You can eat up as many stalls as the money allows you to.” 

Her fingers dig into her knees. “Cake?”

“As much cake as you want.” 

And they don’t speak for a long, long time. Her mind was a whirlwind of every horrible poison she hadn’t screamed at him, as well some other kind of drug that numbed out all of them. Reason, justification, over all the hurt and pain she’s feeling. 

He’s doing his best. But that doesn’t make what he’s been doing, right. Maybe after a few days they can talk about it. For now, she’ll accept whatever apology this was. He’s never good with words, nor comforting people. 

Finally getting up and facing him, her emotions are bubbling inside again. Her gaze is still cast to the ground. 

But she runs, crashing into him and holding him as tight as possible to stamp out any remainder of tears left inside of her. For a moment, he’s stunned and awkward, not knowing what to do. She didn’t care anymore. It’s dark out here and she wants to go home. And eat up the entire left and right side of the street they live on. 

Then, he lowers a hand, patting her head and back tentatively. It’s like he’s new to it all over again. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

Still no answer to that question. It was frustrating to never get one but there’s probably a good reason why he never did. 

“I’m going to eat until I get sick.”

“Don’t do that.” 

She almost laughed a little. And clinging onto him, they walk back. The cage feels lighter and the bars began to disappear. 

. . .

She’d gotten a little cold. Then passed it to him. 

At first he was like the mothers on their street whenever their children got sick, fussing over every little thing and going about his day with more urgency. And at one point leaving his job early everyday despite the guards he worked with protesting that anymore would leave him with a notice of termination. 

In short, he made it out to be worse than it actually was and in a few days, she’d recovered. That same night, he sneezed multiple times in a row and more than he’s ever done in his whole life. 

And the sickness hit like a horse, only exacerbated by his job. 

All of that, finally resulting in one of his subordinates literally having to walk him home for fear he might pass out on the street. 

She was so glad she’d come home early that day. 

“Dain?”

“I keep telling you, I’m fine.” 

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.” 

She reached up to his forehead as he blinked slowly, almost like a cat who’d just woken up to the sun in his eyes. “You’re burning.” 

The soldier practically wrestles his superior into the house and he lets it happen. If Dainsleif’s allowing him to be manhandled by someone, then something is definitely wrong. She quickly runs to boil a pot of water, rummaging through their medicine cabinet for whatever herbs she could find. 

After a lot of grumbling, a few small arguments between him and the two of them, Dain finally relents and lies down on the bed. He’s knocked out before either of them could blink. 

“Has he always been like this?” the man says, exasperated. 

“No one in Khaenri’ah is as annoying and stubborn as him.” She nodded, setting the medicine down on the table by his bedside. “Thank you for getting him back.”

He sighed. “I told him if he wasn’t going to let me take him home, I would throw him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and let everyone see it.”

“You should have,” she snorted. 

“If there wasn’t a risk of getting reported by the others. I don’t have to worry about that with him though. He’s been good to us, at least better than them.” 

“What’s your name?”

“Why, are you going to report me?”

“No.” She elbowed him. “I’m his little sister, Asmoday. Most people call me Azzy.”

He elbows her back. “Halfdan.” He turns to leave. “I should get going. If you need help wrestling him back down to bed and rest, come to the palace and ask for me.”

“Wait.” She quickly rushes into the kitchen, pulling out a piece of cake and boxing it. “I should at least give you something for helping him home.”

“There’s no need-”

“You don’t like cake?”

“I do but-”

She shoved the box into his hand before he could refuse again and a slight blush tints his cheeks. “Drop by this neighborhood more often, we have the best baker in all of Khaenri’ah, and his stall could use a little more business.” 

As soon as he leaves, she rushed back to Dain’s room to check his temperature again. The cold she’d given him had broke into a fever as his system finally began fighting back. But even in his sleep, it didn’t seem like he was getting an ounce of rest. 

His brows drew together, a frown on his lips like something or someone was pushing him to go further, to reach past his limit. All she could do was make sure his fever doesn’t go any higher.

It was boring, staying in the house all day. As night began to fall, a half-finished embroidery laid at her feet, a stack of flower garlands were pushed to the corner of his room and she’d set down a book she’d started and got distracted from. Still, she’s barely keeping the boredom away. And so she slips into sleep along with him. 

Sometime later, she woke to a strangled gasp coming from his bed. Immediately, she shot up, where he’s now sitting, holding his head in his hands, sputtering and wheezing. 

“Dain?”

At the sound of her voice, he turns to look at her. 

It’s the first time she’s ever seen him looked so panicked. Though the rest of his face held the same monotony and stress to them, his eyes always gave him away. That, and his hands are shaking. 

He swallowed before speaking, barely scraping the edges of his throat. “We can’t go back… we can’t- they- I can’t do it again.”

“Do what?” She’s never been so scared in her life. He held a haunted stare, straight past her. “Dain, go back where?”

His breath hitches as he’s about to speak, as if his own body was reminding him to stop. That whatever secret he’d been keeping all these years must still stay hidden. And instead, he tried blinking away whatever he’s seeing. 

“Water. I need water.” 

She’s never done something so quick. In an instant, she returns and he downs it all in one go. And thankfully, it’s able to clear his head. 

“How-”

“Shut up.” She reached for the medicine on his table. “Drink this before you say anything else.” 

He downs that as well as the men that did shots at the bar near the edges of the city.

“How long was I out?”

“From this afternoon until right now.” 

Nodding, he inhales a shaky breath. “I’ll be fine now. You should get some rest.” 

She gets up, reaching to clean the mess she’d made in his room. 

“Leave that. There’s always tomorrow.” 

A yawn escapes her and she paused by the door, feeling a slight irritation crawling up inside. “Take the day off tomorrow. And stop overworking yourself. We have enough now for me to buy out all the stalls on this street.” 

“The king needs me.”

“The king is stupid.”

He hurled a pillow at her face. “Go on. Get to bed.” 

She throws it back hard enough to knock him into the headboard. “Don’t tell me what to do.” And as she leaves, a small smile appears on his face, reflected by the decorative sword she made him during class. It’s barely noticeable. But there. 

She thought he’d forgotten how to long ago.

. . .

“I wish to become one with the Abyss.” 

Marbus paused on his book, slowly turning around to her with a fixed glare. 

“I’ll be stronger that way, and any trouble that comes up during this journey would become nothing.” 

Setting down the book he moved forward, floating in the air with no effort at all. If she could do that then this whole thing would be a breeze. She’d be back in Khaenri’ah before the city gates close at night. 

“No.” He floats right past her, reaching for another book. 

“But why?! If I could become like you, it would make things so much easier for everyone! Don’t you want that?” 

“For reasons you do not yet understand, we cannot allow that to happen.”

“Yet, right? I’m just not ready to become one of you yet? I can wait then.” 

“You will not become one with the Abyss.” He keeps moving, leaving her behind as he closed the book in his hands and floated up for another. 

She quickly followed, standing below him. “We could just reverse it once we reach Sal Vindagynr! Celestia won’t even see me coming-”

“You speak as if you know of the consequences.”

Her fists clenched on her dress. “I’m fully aware of it. From the moment I was chosen to go, I’ve already accepted that I might die doing it. But if I succeed, I can prove myself to everyone, I would show them the truth- this is the one thing I would ever give my life for!” 

He hurtles down, flames engulfing his entire body, stopping right before he could singe off her skin. “Asmoday, you will not become one with the Abyss. You would die for the truth? That is acceptable. But would you live for it? Would you suffer centuries of torment with whatever holds you together, torturing and keeping you alive for it? In the face of eternity as one of us, death is a mercy.” 

“Then I’ll live it.”

He held her shoulder, stalagmites for nails digging in. “You don’t know pain.” But he allowed her to see it. 

For the first time, she watched the magma that held all his limbs in place, pulsing, surging, as liquid lava flowed through what must be his veins. Every so often, flames would jump as if the very essence of himself wanted an out. A way to flicker and die, fighting for a path so that he may finally rest. 

“We are reborn in true Sin. The Will of the Abyss does not let their soldiers die until they’ve done all they can, and so you live for one purpose until something or someone kills you. Every waking moment is an agony that is unfathomable, and you are torn apart, drowned, or burned inside of your own body. You do not want to become one of us.” 

With his words came the sudden ability to notice something that she hadn’t before. Marbus and all the creatures from the Abyss breathed heavily, laboriously as if just doing so took a tremendous amount of effort. And that’s not even counting on how they manage to hide it so well. So no one could know and use their torment against them. 

“The only reprieve is battle. Even then, it’s only a distraction from it, and amplifies our pain even more after it.” 

“So right now…” 

“I burn.” There was a slight tremble to his low, scratchy voice, further proving his point. “There are other ways to become stronger and if you still choose to, defeat me. Command me to step aside; at least then, I may have a clear conscious before they wash you in Sin.”

Finally, he loosens his hold and turns from her, as a somber atmosphere falls over them. They don’t speak for a long while, with Azzy still fighting herself over it now that she knows more. An eternity of torment. A forever like him. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate form of sacrifice? Of doing it for the sake of something much greater than herself? 

Wouldn’t Dain be proud of that?

“My resolve is set. I’ll do it, I’ll defeat you.” Turning around, she made for the door, intending to find another from the Abyss to teach her. Someone else who knew exactly where his weak points are. “It’s my choice, and I won’t let anyone take that from me.” 

“The logic of a child is more flawed than I remember.” 

“I am not-”

“I’ll teach you how to defeat me. If this is the path you choose to walk, then nothing of this world can stop you. And I would rather have you learn from me than them.” 

Dainsleif had taught her the basics, but other than that, she never really cared it for nor practiced. Marbus took her outside, and he’d handed her a knife and nothing else. 

She’d swung wildly at him, with no direction and a shabby aim. Charging, missing, eating dirt. Over and over again. All the while, he’d dodge her attacks with no effort at all. Occasionally, he’d knock the weapon from her hands. At one point, he’d turned the heat up on his body so much that a few burns marked her skin. Flames jumped, and molten lava was thrown, just enough to catch the bottom of her dress on fire. She’d torn it with her bare hands before it could spread. And dashed for him again. 

He catches her in the air, lifting her up by the collar with ease as she thrashed around, stabbing the knife over and over into his arm. It was a wonder the thing withstood the magma and didn’t just melt completely. With a single swing, the knife flies from her hands. She resorted to tearing at the stone armor and managed to chip away the edges. 

“You fight with reckless abandon, like a mad dog with no control over its fangs and yet, you hesitate.” He drops her back onto the ground, the fight finally leaving her. The burns are starting to sting. Her limbs ached and exhaustion is all that she is at the moment. He goes to leave, their fight already done. And it can’t end like this. 

There was still so much she hadn’t tried yet. 

“Because I see you as a man. No matter what, you’re my mentor first, my guide.” At this, the lector paused. 

She lunged with everything that’s still left only for him to throw her back to the ground. 

“Stand.” The flames in his eyes flickered ever so slightly. “Pick up the knife. Choose your target, and begin again.”

Chapter Text

On top of his two jobs at the palace already, guarding baby Kaeya and the gates, he’s now standing watch for a tree. 

A tree. 

It was gigantic, placed in the family’s personal garden, miles away from the public one. It’s a long winding walk through tunnels and down ragged paths until the walls of the private halls come into view. Colorful flowers bursting from the ground, the air and just about everywhere else filled the smaller path inside. 

"Do you resent me, captain?" The king's voice interrupts him staring at the sheer size of the tree. 

"I don't understand, Your Majesty." 

King Alberich doesn't face him when he speaks. "I've sent the last and only member of your family away to fulfill a task I've set out for her. Be honest with me, Dainsleif. Do you miss her?" 

He swallowed, remembering the last time they'd spoken in a garden so similar to this one. "I do." 

A moment passed, and the king runs his fingers over the petals of a mist flower. "So where do your loyalties lie?"

This snaps Dain awake almost instantly. "With you, until the very end." 

"I find that hard to believe." 

He all but stops breathing at the implications of that. His promise to her shouldn't have been heard by anyone; the violins and the music should have covered it. Anything spoken between them that night had been in low whispers, murmurs shared only between them. His mind swirled with all the faces he remembered seeing, all the dancers that had come close to them. Did they provoke the crowd's envy, their jealousy? 

"My queen noticed it long ago, before I sent your sister away." 

The shock of that nearly makes him stumble as the memory of her walking down the steps and her voice comes back to him. 

"Your will falters. It wavers. Why?"

Even now, he couldn't place why it terrified him so much. He almost shivered at the thought of it. 

"You have eyes for that woman. Our Royal Alchemist."

"I don't-" The denial flies out hurried and rushed, as if the very idea of it was blasphemous, an egregious accusation. But this isn't like him to do so. Stoicness and a calm that underlies everything he'd ever done were the stone walls around his heart. With Asmoday inside, he'd never let it crumble for anyone, not even as she tried to scale it and fell after slipping. 

And now, Rhinedottir had drilled a hole through it, and sealed the exit back up behind her. 

The king narrowed his eyes, and Dainsleif fought to maintain a steady gaze. "I apologize for my outburst." Which only dug his grave even further. 

"Even you yourself do not know how far you would go for her." He turned, placing a hand on the silver bark of the tree. "Your devotion is commendable. But I remind you that it belongs to the Eclipse, not to anyone else, not even to your sister. Under these circumstances does your loyalty to us shake?"

Dain’s throat dries. A long time ago, he would have said no, and reassured the king wholeheartedly. But now there were too many tangled knots, emotions and feelings he'd shoved and repressed to the depths of his mind, left to be forgotten, only for Rhine to pick and grab at it like a cat to yarn. More loops being made, more scratches inside the stone walls 

"I do not blame you for it. I would have done the same for my wife and my son. You've been my hound for the longest time, and I trust you with the lives of my family. As it stands, I'll grant you a second chance." The king waves him closer, placing a hand on the silver bark. “My family has seen this grow little by little as each year passes by.”

And unlike any other, the wood was seemingly made from silver, from the way the color shined against the sun. 

“Prove to me your loyalty. Guarding the Irminsul Tree is only a part of it.” He pulled down on a low-hanging branch, gentler than Dainsleif had ever seen. “You’re the best knight I have. Out of all of them. Even after...” The king paused suddenly, as if holding something back, and silence envelops them both. The atmosphere became tense, and Dainsleif felt the need to break it.  

“Forgive me, but other than being a Ley Line, what is so special about it?”

King Alberich regarded him with curiosity. Maybe he’s wondering whether to tell him or not but no matter what it was, he held an amused smile. “All I can say is this tree has existed long before the people of Teyvat. And Khaenri’ah.”

Dain frowned. “What do you mean?”

"It's been here from the very beginning, all the memories of the people who passed will flow back here. And with it, there is infinite wisdom and knowledge. In a sense, we are all people of the Leylines." A frown draws on the king's face. "But it's diseased. It has been for a long time, and there are periods where the pace of it grows faster. No one knows why. So my advisors and I have all been providing the Royal Alchemist with whatever she needs, even before I sent Asmoday. It was all to find a solution to it."

It was such a long time ago, but somehow he could still remember her showing up in front of the king after their fight. Some talk about funding. Then running away when she saw him. Lingering guilt still latched onto the edges of his heart, regret at how he'd become so detached and insufferable to her then. Even now, he found that there were still things she kept from him, like what the king had assigned her to do. "I don't understand what my sister has to do with any of this, Your Majesty." 

King Alberich moved towards the back, hand sliding across the silver. "The Abyss came to me with a proposal, when my queen and I were crowned. Irminsul can be saved with a single pearl from the heavens. But after that, it must be turned over to them. When I inquired about what they were to do with it, they told me that the pearl contained the truth of this world. This truth can heal the tree, and also contained the power to reveal it to all in the lands above." His gaze falls to the roots. "I asked them why not Khaenri'ah. And they said that we already know it, so revealing it here would be useless." 

Dain blinked, trying to process the sheer amount of information that just came out of his mouth. But the king's not done. 

"I needed to bide my time and wait for the right person to do it. They gave me your sister's name."

"But why-" If the king had known it would be Asmoday anyway, then all those other choosing ceremonies had been done just to play up a ruse. "Why her?"

"Only the gods know, and we don't have them here. All we have is Irminsul and it's cryptic prophecies." The king turned back to him. "The Abyss took decades trying to decipher a particular one. 

Two stars fall, one after the other,

From the hearths of blood, a light is found

the earth is moved, and heaven is tainted

Truth is the judgement of all. 

He leaves those words for Dain to linger on. 

"There is a truth to the entirety of this world that the people of Khaenri'ah hold within them, but it's locked away in the depths of all our memories. Sacrificing one of our own would not have cured Irminsul. But your sister can save us all, and when she comes back she will be celebrated and revered. I will grant her wish of putting you on paid leave."

"Pardon?" He blinked in shock. 

"She's confessed her worries to me about you." A tiny smile cracks his lips. "Pay more attention to her, lest you hurt the very ones you're trying to protect." 

Dainsleif felt his soul effectively disintegrating as heat tore up his cheeks in embarrassment. If Rhine were to hear of this, she would hold it over his head until he died. Teasing him about getting reprimanded by the king. For being so neglectful of his sister's feelings over the years that other people could notice it. For the king to say something. "Yes, Your Majesty." 

His smile slips a little. "But of course, I'm sure she never told you of the other side. The severity of the risk she's taking."

"I do know of it, Your Majesty. She's alone in the lands above with no one to guide her but the Lector assigned."

"That is not the risk."

Then what more is there? His mind spun with a whirlwind of possibilities, of things and monsters that could kill her. He knew she was reaching for the pearl in the heavens. Would her adversary then, be the very gods themselves? The thought sent him down a spiral of emotions. He wanted to run and find her but at the same time, the scale of what she's doing would make that impossible. 

"And that is not something I can disclose lest your mind is given time to mull over and form a plan to defy me. Obey my orders when they are given and your loyalty to me will be solidified. Guard Irminsul, and maybe it will help you understand." The king goes to leave, crossing the beautiful garden before pausing at the entrance. "Between my queen's order and mine, my son comes first before the tree."

"Then what of the people?"

Silence was the answer. 

And from that day forth, he stood guard. It was the most mundane thing he'd ever done and that had to count for something, coming from him. The hours he stood guard for it were enough to make anyone fall asleep even for someone well-trained like him. Only made worse by the fact that it was recruiting season and it's something he has to somehow oversee.

His disappearance from the public eye didn't go unnoticed however, but by order of the king he was to keep his mouth shut. That's all he could tell Rhine. It didn't stop the knowing and mischievous smirk that briefly flashed on her face. Whenever she was with him, it never seems to leave her. He’d thought that would have stopped Rhine from seeing him at least for the time being. He should have remembered that she wasn’t the kind to give up so easily and at something so small. 

So when she leaped over the tall green hedges that surrounded the small garden, his jaw dropped. Followed by sheer panic. As she brushed herself off from the fall, he snatched her arm. “ What are you doing here?!” His eyes darted, searching for any sign of the royal family. 

She tossed him an annoyed glance. “Keeping you company? What else?”

“Are you-” He stopped, inhaling deeply before speaking again. “You shouldn’t even know where this place is. This is their private garden and you’re trespassing.”

Her lips turn up into a teasing smirk and he could practically smell what she was about to say. “So. Arrest me, dear knight.” She offered her hands mockingly. “There’s no jail cell here, I wonder where else you might take me.”

“Can you manage not being vulgar for a minute?!”

“Oh but you’ve known me long enough to understand that’s impossible.” 

He closed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I already told you.” Her eyes widened at the tree behind him. “Woah.” Without warning, she glides up to it like a moth to light. "I've never seen it up close-"

He snatched her arm, making her stop. “Not any closer.” 

“Well then,” she replied, plopping down right next to where he had been standing guard. “This will do.” A moment passed. Her golden eyes glanced up with a puzzling look. “Sit down.” 

“I can’t. I’m still working.”

“Relax, won’t you? No one’s here, except for me.”

“Unlike you, I actually take it very seriously.”

“Then you would have cuffed me already.” She laid down and her hood slips off. Hair woven from gold cascades down and onto the grass, making the ground look as if someone had scattered the precious metal generously. 

His mouth twitched, wondering what to do. She had a point, like she always does. 

Rhine patted the grass, and he finally takes her offer. It’s not until he sits down that he noticed how stiff his legs felt. 

A serene silence falls over them. They don’t speak, and all he’s doing is staring at the sky. It’s a beautiful shade of blue, with wispy clouds moving gently across, reminding him of the time Rhine took him for a joyride on Durin. A small part is wondering if they could do that again. It was terrifying, much like her and yet he could never get enough of it. 

He wondered if she'd decided to forget about that night. It would be better that way. Whatever was spoken between them would only complicate whatever kind of friendship already was, if he could even call it that. Aside from the troubling thing that the king spoke of, Rhine's being loaded down with more work as well. More automatons were being designed, calculations for energy or some other thing he didn't have the capacity to figure out. They needed to focus on their jobs, and it's not like it left them with time to talk about anything else.

Strangely, it felt like he'd drifted back into his monotone self with Asmoday, and anyone for that matter. The sheer amount of paperwork that's piling up on his desk was mountainous and the amount of hours he's on the clock for should be criminal, leaving little time to do or speak of anything other than his work.

But it was different this time. Rhine reciprocated, her complaints about some formula or a design mishap growing increasingly frequent. Underlying that was an understanding that was comforting in its own way; they're both exhausted and being worked to the bone. 

So much that when Dain found his way to her little home on the hill one night, she was barely able to keep her eyes open. Surrounded by notes and research, she was writing a conclusion with her eyes closed, head in one hand, dipped low. 

Low enough to catch her hair on fire by the candlelight. 

He'd tilted her chin up, waking her as his fist closed around the small flame, and extinguished it. 

"Dain?"

"You need to rest." And without another word, he'd scooped her up before she could object.

She was beautiful as she rested in his arms. Moments like those had become more frequent, and occupied his mind for days to come. Whatever it was, something always pulled him to do it and if that meant anything, there had to be something between them. Remnants of that night never faded with time and even now, he found himself drawn to her. They never spoke about it. But actions speak louder than words. And her hand shifted, covering his own on the grass. 

A rush of heat soared into his chest. Delicate, quick, able to bring life into the world and cut it short at a whim. Even being in the position he was given, a slight thought told him that if she decided to end him right here, right now, he didn't stand a chance. Despite all the training he'd gone through, all the people he'd cut down, just one gaze from her would drop him to his knees. 

"You really do need to just relax," she giggled. He glanced over right as she yanked him down onto the grass. His breath caught. “What’s wrong?” she mused. “Cat got your tongue?”

The unease from that revelation only intensified.

Her voice softened. "Still thinking about that night?" 

His breath caught and he tried to cover it. "I gave you my word. Does it still hold value to you?" 

"Would you like it to?"

He wasn't sure. The king's words still lingered and he wondered if it was alright to tell her what happened, how what he'd pledged might just be one of the worst decisions he's ever made. But did he regret it? No. And that might be the very thing that would get her thrown in prison for taking the Captain's loyalty. That, and the worry of Asmoday's predicament all swirled endlessly, giving him an increasingly frequent headache. 

"Close your eyes for a while."

"I'm working."

"Yes. And?" 

He huffed in disbelief at her lack of concern for it. "If anyone finds out I'm sleeping on the job-"

"I'll keep an eye out." She sits up, stretching her arms. "Nothing's happened in such a long time." Her eyes gaze down at him, bright and gentle enough to substitute the sun if it were to ever extinguish. "I know how you are, how you've been from the beginning. Do you remember?"

The memory of when they first met had nearly faded, between all that he had to do. But it's there. If he could just find it. 

"You can stop fighting now, Dain. You've made it." 

Her words were his saving grace and a needle through the heart at the same time, threading the string of the king's last command. He couldn’t just yet. "There's still one more thing I have to do."

"What is it?"

"Prove my loyalty. His Majesty spoke to me earlier about you, about Asmoday. He won't tell me what it is. But it's important enough that he can't tell me now, lest I change my mind." His jaw clenched at the thought of having one last chain holding him back. "When he gives the order, what defines my loyalty is the whether I obey him in that moment." 

Rhine leans down on her knees, staring at the garden around them. "Then follow it. You're the king's hound, are you not?" She made it sound easy. As if it's nothing more than one more assignment. 

With nothing more to say and the majority of his worry dissipated, he finally relents, and closed his eyes. It takes several minutes to slip to the edges of rest. The boundary of sleep and consciousness that contained moments, people, and things to dream about. Anything other than memories, were impossible in Khaenri'ah. 

And something decided to find the days where he'd first met her. 

. . .

Dainsleif wiped the blood from his face as he stood back up, sheathing the sword in his hands. People stepped back, a few kids began to cry. But none of that was his problem, because the real one was already solved in the form of a few bodies on the ground. 

“The children are afraid of you.” A sly and glossy voice breaks the crowd as a woman in a white robe and cloak lined with gold steps forward. 

“Lady alchemist.”

Only her lips are visible when she smiles at him, cruel and cold. He paid it no mind. “Do be more careful, sir knight.” Sidling up to him, she kneels down, taking the hand of one of the dead men. “Lest you stain this beautiful marketplace with your hands.”

“I don’t worry about such trivial things.” He turned, ready to leave. After all, his job here was done. 

“Though you may serve the king as his knight and executioner, I hope you won’t forget the people that made him.”

Fed up with the poking and prodding at him, he wheeled back around. “Is there anything more you’d like to say?”

An irritating smirk is what he receives. “No. You may leave.” 

Even back then, he remembered his first thought being the aura of danger she possessed, that something wasn't right. She stood out like a light amidst a blur of dull color, a kind of warmth that only set off his fight or flight. He'd made a mental note to keep tabs on her whenever they crossed paths. From behind that white hood and his black helmet a strange kind of hostility grew. Irrational.

He could never place why. 

Maybe it was the fact that she looked at the corpses with an insatiable curiosity. Or that there was never an ounce of fear in her eyes, that it's merely a concept she never will experience. He did, he had many things to be afraid of. And the woman's staring through him, right at it. 

A mocking smile irritated him for the next three days. 

. . .

“This is ridiculous,” he protested, following the knight with the list of assignments. “Isn’t there any way to change it?”

"Sir,” The knight turned to him, clearly exhausted after his night shift. “This list was approved by the king himself.” 

His stomach dropped as he felt his blood pressure rise. “Of all the people, why her?”

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“I don’t. We just don’t get on.” 

“You should start. His Majesty has already placed a good amount of trust in that woman and wants to keep her safe. So, you’re the best option he has.” He glanced up. “Loyalty knows no bounds when it comes to you.” 

His hands clenched. 

"You should be happy that he's trusting you with such an important task." The knight waved him goodbye, leaving him alone to fume a bit more in the marble halls. As he dragged himself towards the other wing of the palace, a dread is already beginning to grow inside. Whatever she has in store may as well put him six feet under. And leave his sister alone to fend for herself. 

He taps on the steel door three times before pushing it open. 

The Lady Alchemist was taking apart one of her latest inventions; a contraption he didn’t care nor want to know of. 

“Ah. You’re here. We’ll be on our way soon.” 

He says nothing, and takes a position by the door, guarding the entrance with a stoic silence. 

She worked a few more moments, carefully closing up the bag before moving onto a mountain pile of notebooks and journals. Grabbing one, she quickly flips through it. Then another. It’s halfway through the pile before she finds the right one and sticks it in. 

“There.” Flashing him a sweet smile, she stops right in front of him. “Shall we?”

He doesn’t return it. 

They leave the palace and he follows her like a shadow under the sun. The Lady Alchemist waved and conversed with everyone she came across. Like wind, she moved with ease and grace. If she weren’t what she was, Dainsleif would have mistaken her for one of the nobles. 

The market during the day bustled with people running errands or rushing to someplace or another. The smell of food wafted from the stalls and children ran through the crowds playing whatever game fancied their every whim and desire. 

He remembered doing the same with Asmoday, so long ago. She was quite smaller than the other children then, more fragile and weak. It worried him sick. But because of her horrible condition, they were able to take advantage of the pity given to them, and he made sure to make the most of that.

Shouting suddenly comes from his right. His hand flies to his sword and from the crowd, a little boy bursts through, running as fast as he can with his friends in pursuit. Smiles decked their faces, laughter filling the air. 

Until it's cut short when he trips, tumbling right in front of him. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, she picks up the boy whose eyes go wide with unbridled terror, looking past her. She glanced back. 

“You’d do well to keep that hand off your sword, Sir knight.”

“There’s no reason to.”

An annoyed silence meets him as she turns back to the kid. “Run along now. He’s only here to look out for all of you.” 

Nodding, he disappears back into the crowd and she stands, ready to do the same. He couldn’t place why, but he took insult to the cold shoulder she’s suddenly giving him. He was just doing his job. What’s so wrong about that?

They wade through the sea of people and he watched her move like air. Slipping through tight corners, and ducking under people carrying heavy loads on their heads. She twisted and stepped like sand. 

Meanwhile, they all parted like the gates of the palace for him. He was only slightly taller than most, but the stark contrast between his dark, knightly clothes against the bright colors of the people made him intimidating. The armor only enhanced that. 

“You look like an abomination.” When he brought it in for the first time, Asmoday knocked and kicked it so many times, he could still hear the sound rattling him from inside. “And scary. Can I borrow it?”

“Why?”

“I want to scare them.” 

His sister was right. 

He could have walked in front of Lady Alchemist to clear a path, to make it easier, and not have her put in any effort to avoid bumping someone. But just in case she caused any trouble in the future, he’d know how she moved. 

She takes them all the way outside of the city and as the crowd and noise of the market fades, only the sound of clunking metal was left. 

“Take that helmet off.” Her voice comes to him, breaking the silence. “I can’t imagine it’s comfortable with that thing on your head.” 

“It’s necessary.” 

Her only response was to let the windpull down her hood. Golden locks spilled down her back like a waterfall, shining and reflecting the light which the sun gave. From behind a few feet, it made him stop. The cascade blows gently in the breeze. And Dainsleif had never seen anything like it. 

“If you say so.” Sighing in contentment, she stretched out her arms. The bag she’s holding is dropped to the ground and she starts pulling out the parts she needed. Rods and gears he can’t make heads or tails of is quickly assembled by her nimble hands. Like a puzzle, it starts coming together, chunks of machinery laying around on the tall grass. 

He watched for any signs of trouble, and occasionally, at her. Being out in the open was far more dangerous than the average civilian might expect, especially if they’re from Khaenri’ah. But then, she isn’t average or at least, her mind wasn’t. That’s why he was here. In terms of strength, she’s put that into running away more than bracing herself for a fight. 

“You’re as still as a ruin among the the grass.” She murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear. “What an eyesore.” 

He paid the insult no mind, continuing his watch down the hills and towards a small creek. Getting used to tiny jabs at him, his knights and his family was part of his line of work. And he was never quick to anger to begin with. 

“Why don’t you treat this as an extra break, Sir knight? There’s no danger here. Sit down.” 

He remained silent and standing. Under the king’s direct orders, he was to remain that way unless it’s absolutely necessary to speak. 

“Under all that armor I wonder if you’re even human.” A slight chuckle escapes her. “Just like some of my machinery.”

“I am nothing like your blasphemous creations.”

She tossed him a glance, smirking to herself. “One of these days, dear knight you will find yourself bowing down to me before the king.”

“I could have your throat cut.”

“Well then what are you waiting for?” 

“The day I prove you wrong.” His hand twitched on the hilt of his sword. “I bow to no one but the king.” 

“Let’s make a bet. If you become better than me then I will admit defeat. You have honor, pride and loyalty, sir knight. Admirable traits. So I will grant you the blessing of hearing me say, ‘You win.’”

He hated that she was right, and that the sound of that coming from her lips would be like music to his ears. Still, there had to be a catch. There was always a catch with her. “And if I bow down to you?”

She turned away from him, probably to hide whatever horrible smile she’s wearing. Or to give her time to think. 

“Kiss my hand. Provided of course, you become captain of the royal guard.” 

That didn’t seem too bad. 

“Do it with Khaenri'ah as our audience.”

His jaw nearly dropped. “That’s absurd.”

“Really? It doesn’t seem that bad compared to what I have to say. You’re not the only one with a pride and ego, you know. And I hate to admit defeat.”

She made it seem like a fair deal, and that’s something that infuriated him even if it was unfounded. 

Was it from the way she carried herself, with confidence and an insufferable ‘I’m better than you’ attitude? Was it from his own pride, the recognition that there was someone who could outdo him? Or is it all just spite? 

For the rest of their time, she worked without a single word, only humming to herself to break the tense air. They never spoke much at first, if at all, and when they did, it would be her. The only thing that she got out of him was silence, but that didn’t stop her from requesting the king for him. He never understood why.

“...There are others in the guard who are willing to indulge in those pointless conversations of yours.” He'd gotten so fed up with her constant teasing and horrible grins one day that it's become all he could focus on.

She’d smiled without looking up, leaning over one of her machines and fiddling with a screw. “Am I a nuisance, sir knight?”

“More than you realize.”

“Oh I realize, I just don’t care.” 

The pit of annoyance that rested in chest only flared, and he turns away to hide his darkening expression. 

“The other guards talk too much. If you’re wondering why I keep you around, I prefer my Black Serpents silent.”

“Has it ever occurred to you what happens when you bother a snake one too many times?” It’s not like she’s never seen him working, sometimes even right in front of her while she’s out buying materials. Everyone after he’s dealt with a problem looked at him in fear. 

Not her. His words had come out more threatening than he intended, but he's at his limit and all he wanted was a day of peace. 

“But it seems like this one has lost his fangs.” Digging through a box, she pulls out a wrench, pointing it at him. “You’re a Serpent of the people, your body are the walls that protect this nation. Chivalric code chains your poison and the loyalty of a dog runs through your veins.” She smirked. “I’d say you’re pretty safe.” Her eyes suddenly light up. "Oh."

"What?"

"You just gave me an idea." A damning smirk paints her lips at the thought of it. "Of course, I'll have to put that away for the future." There's a little spring in her step as she glided back to the machine. 

He hated that she could sense the sudden surge of burning curiosity radiating from him. If he could just know, he could outdo her, wipe that smile off her face. 

"How about a puppy with snake fangs for claws?" 

A horrible idea. The worst thing he's ever heard. But something told him that if she were to put her mind to it, that thing would become a reality. 

And it did. Eventually. One of the many things she'd achieved to put one over him. An unspoken rivalry grew, with no shortage of glares and smug grins passed back and forth between them. 

He’d cut down whatever the king threw his way. The next day, she’d receive full marks on every exam she took. Him taking on more rigorous tasks meant that she would be camping out in the palace lab to complete a project flawlessly. In response he’d start taking night shifts and then a week after, she’s leading her own group of researchers for some end of year thesis. Then he would be assigned to command a branch of soldiers. 

He didn’t know how long this carried on. But before either of them could stop their ascent and look back, they had risen to the very top. He became captain of the royal guard. She became the chief alchemist of Khemia. He killed. She created. And they both did so at the cost of everything else. 

There was a part of him that wondered if they’d both come out of it on the wrong side of the coin. After all, they crossed paths more frequently while on the job. He'd seen what she's done to those she set her sights on, vile creatures, reanimated limbs and with the more mild being deadly machinery. The way her eyes glinted with no shred of empathy when her creations worked, no matter how much pain it caused. 

And she's seen what he's done for the king. Murdering things and people in cold blood all in the name of loyalty. If His Majesty had a list, it would be done come morning. Catching him sometimes pulling a knife out of another person's back in an alleyway. Snapping their necks, whatever worked to kill them quick. She never flinched, not once and on those nights the only thing she'd ask was, 

"Can I keep that?"

He'd always refused at first; what matter did she have with a corpse? But then she'd gotten written permission from the king so he had to leave his bloodied trails with her. 

All that they'd done, had put a target on both of their backs. There were no shortage of assassins, politicians nor people that wanted them both dead, especially him. Putting his sister in danger was his worst nightmare and it nearly came true too often. Yet through all of that, he hid as much as he could from her, and so far it's still working. 

They were horrible, vile people, working behind the scenes to turn Khaenri'ah into what it could be today. A glittering nation upon the hills, under a sky as dark as the wings of Durin. A land forged and tilled with steel and blood.

. . .

Rhinedottir’s gentle hands shook him awake. 

The sun had just begun to fall and he blinked some of the light away as he sat up. 

“Is my shift over?”

“Something fell out of the tree.” 

“What?”

She turned him towards it. And right when she did, a white glowing figure stepped out of the bark, seemingly made of mist. 

He shoved her back, pulling out the sword in his sheathe. The thing stumbled, wisps of air and what looked like moonlight taking shape into the form of a dress. They watched it sculpt a face; a woman’s, and her moving to take a glance around. 

A heavy kind of desperation weighed in the air, seemingly from nowhere. It hadn’t been here before. Rhine tightened her grip on his arm. 

The mist woman turned to him. Immediately, his blood ran ice cold, frozen in the gaze of whoever had fallen from the tree. There was a panic in her eyes and it seemed that she wouldn’t allow him to look away unless she got what she wanted. 

She moved towards him. He held the sword up higher. 

“Wait.” Rhine stopped him before speaking to her. “Is there something you want to say?” 

The woman’s eyes shift from him and he fought the urge to push her back further behind him. She opened her mouth, nothing but white mist spilling out as she spoke. 

“Where is Irmin?”

“Who?”

“The king.”

They stood in stunned silence as he tried to process it. “That’s not his name.”

“Have you seen him? My love?” Her pale form clasped her hands together, begging the both of them for an answer they didn’t have. 

Dainsleif lowered his sword. “I am part of the royal guard. If you want me to help you, give us your name.”

“I am Irminsul.” She drew closer still and Rhine almost pulled him back before thinking better of it. “You must know me. I recognize your face.”

“What?” He’d never seen the woman in his life. 

Her gaze turns to Rhine. “You were the little girl in the wagon. Remember?”

She’s never looked so lost. It was a face that he thought he’d never see from her. 

“Ah, right. It’s easier if I show you. I have never been good with words.”  Irminsul reached out for his head. 

Quick as lightning, Rhine snatches it away, just mere inches from him as the air turned ice cold. She didn’t need to say anything. Just the deathly glare from her was enough to send a chill that could freeze the nation over. 

It was enough to make his stomach turn. Did he… like it?

Either way, Irminsul looked on obliviously. “Would you like me to show you too?”

“I’d like your hands off of him.”

“It’s the only way to show memories. Oh. You must be worried about his safety, well in that case-” She reached for her as well and before he knew it, the world melts away. 

. . .

He’s in the marketplace, the sun beating down on him as dry wind kicked up dirt. Around him, people continued on their way, running errands and going about their business and paying no mind to the knight in black armor. 

That wasn’t right. Wherever he walked, he’d draw the attention of nearly everyone around him. A hand clasped his arm and he looked back. Rhinedottir hung onto him as she looked around pensively. 

“This is Khaenri’ah ten years ago.” Her voice was faded, almost like something’s muffling it. 

“How do you know?”

“Things were more rugged then.” 

She was right. Colors and fabric were more faded and dull compared to the present. He couldn’t place why but a feeling of monotony and dread always hung in the air. Especially when he was younger. 

He took the lead, a feeling in his gut drawing them both towards the edges of the market. To the people, he was just like any other citizen, shoving past him as they waded through the crowd. 

“Do you know something?” she asked. 

“I don’t.” Uncertainty continued to seize him as the alleyway he’d taken her into became more and more familiar. From the back of his mind, he barely remembered it. But now, looking at the gray bricked walls, muddy street and something sour hitting him, he knew where they were. 

Orphans lined the street as far as the shadows could cover them. They ran, thieving and fighting for any semblance of coin and food. Some were thin enough to show bone in their face, other’s sick and isolated from the rest. 

His throat dried, and the air became stifling. The days here were some of the worst he had. There was no escaping the slums of the market, and most who did were few. The best he could have hoped for then was survival. And those desperate enough would kill someone and eat them. Whatever was left would be picked clean by the rest. 

He didn’t know how it had gotten so bad and desolate, it was something he preferred to keep locked and repressed. Something to be forgotten. They’d all grown up with him in the sense that they were around the same age. Not in terms of their path. 

They were the ones that Dainsleif would be ordered to cut down. 

How many children here did he kill? 

Clenching his jaw, his breath catches. Rhinedottir’s hand around his arm became his saving grace, delicate with a gentleness like no other. 

“Dainsleif?” Her voice was like a light. And behind it, was concern, a tone so careful like he would shatter if she changed it even slightly. Like he was made of glass.

He swallowed, steeling himself to face it. “I..” What would she think of him now? Their past was never a topic of conversation, perhaps because it was more focused on his sister. 

Pearly white hair snagged his attention. He pulled her along and she held on, keeping him steady. Past the orphans, the delinquents only trying to survive, they paused in front of two children leaning against their spot on the wall. 

He catches Rhine’s astonished eyes from the corner of his vision. “Is this…” 

“My sister.” 

Asmoday sat alone on the ground, hugging her knees and near the brink of tears like she had always been. If it was not because of how terrifying the world was to her, then it was her sickness and her frustration with it. Her crying annoyed the others. It made her a target but it couldn’t be helped. So everyday she’d retreat into herself, afraid of both the shadows and light. Every night she’d cling onto him while she slept like a bat to its mother. She was never made for conditions like these. And in the depths of his mind whenever he couldn’t sleep, he always wondered how she managed to survive long enough for him to get them out. 

“Gods.” Rhine’s horror came in the form of a whisper. 

Her hair was long enough to pool onto the ground whenever she sat down, and she was always cold. When he finally managed to get a roof over their heads the first thing she did was cut it all off, keeping it shoulder length ever since. 

“She was always sick. We never knew why.” The words barely made it out as he tried to explain, his voice cracking. “No one knew how to help her and no one wanted to.” 

In silence, the words hung in the air with a weight that made it hard to breathe. Then, Rhine kneels down, pushing her hand up against Azzy’s forehead. His sister barely moves, not noticing either of them. 

“She’s burning.” The grim observation tightened his lungs. 

Right about then, a group of children stumbles into the entrance of the alley, exhausted and nearly tripping over each other. One of them including a blond boy. 

Bloodied and bruised. 

As the others flopped down wherever they could, telling each other the next time will go better, Azzy finally lifts her head, her eyes red from tears and cheeks flushed with fever. “Dain!” She struggled to stand, her knees wobbling together. 

The boy runs, to keep her from walking. She throws her arms around him, squeezing as tight as a sickly child could. 

“Look what I have!” He whispered, the hushed tone pulling her away. From his pocket, he dug out half of an already small cookie. “Here, don’t tell anybody!”

She took it, nearly eating the entire thing in a single bite. “What about you?”

The lie easily slips from his tongue.

“I don’t need food. I can eat sunlight, remember?” 

Dainsleif took a deep breath, a lump in his throat growing. There were days where he’d go completely without it and he could care less about that. What mattered though, was whether Azzy got better. 

She didn’t. 

As soon as she finished it, the sky and the world seemed to shift, to change as if time itself was moving at a pace to show him what Irminsul wanted him to see. The sun fell, and the moon rose as a biting wind swept through the entire alley. 

The children he had been with earlier had disappeared. His sister’s fever worsened. Shivers rattled her as she laid there on a blanket he’d stolen from a line of laundry, tears falling from her eyes. 

His hands shook with her. Rhine clasped hers around his own. “You don’t have to watch.” 

“I should be the one saying that to you.” Because what’s going to happen next might horrify even someone like her. 

Her brows knit in confusion. “What?” 

The group of boys from earlier were taller now, older, and they dragged something kicking and screaming from a gag as they laughed and taunted them. He was one of them.  

Her eyes widened. “That’s a person.” 

One of them handed him a knife. “It’s your turn!” 

“Have you thought about how?” 

“Let me see!” 

The entire alley came alive as everyone rushed to pin the man down and to spectate. Everyone except Azzy and those who were too sick to move. 

“Brown eyes, dark hair, he was on his way home from seeing a girl.” 

“What?”

Even now, he still recalled the details. They’d stalked the man for a week. “Smelled of cedarwood and held more strength in his arms. We went for the legs and cut his heels.” 

By then, they could barely see himself raise the knife above his head. He’d already torn off the blindfold. 

“I see him sometimes in the corner of my room.” 

A bloodcurdling shriek tears out of his throat from underneath the gag. The silver glint disappears. A sickening splurch followed and cheers drowned out whatever sound came after as he struck, again and again. 

“His neck, his heart, his head. He didn’t do anything wrong.” 

A few broke off from the group and dropped their pile of sticks and branches on the ground. Someone struck a flint against a metal rod. Rhinedottir drew closer as the crowd parted to the sides, letting the group that had taken the man in, pull the corpse towards it. Blood smeared the stone. 

The younger him handed the knife back to their ringleader at the time, their clothes and faces splattered with blood. He always had the first cut, but no one cared who dismembered the body first. They grabbed a hold of all four limbs. It was a game. Whichever one came out with the entire arm or leg attached was the lucky one. There was no prize for it; but they grasped at whatever hope they could get. Including things that can’t be seen or touched. 

“Ready, one! Two!”

Dainsleif snapped back to his senses, realizing that she was practically getting a front-row seat to whatever horrific thing was about to occur. “Wait-” He lunged, clamping a hand over her eyes and twisting her away from it. 

“Three!” 

The sound of flesh tearing from the body and limbs popping filled the air. Through all of his panic, he’d forgotten to cover her ears, and he felt the slightest flinch.  

A groan rippled through the crowd. No one got the luck that night but their ringleader paid it no mind, dragging the knife from the chest wound down to the stomach. 

“Don’t look.” He can’t breathe. The world swayed beneath his feet and he struggled to keep himself up. “Please.” His voice scraped the edges of his throat, wheezing as his head pounded. 

For a moment, they stood that way. He felt her lashes moving from underneath his hand, before reaching up and covering his own. “Do you think,” she spoke with a firm steadiness, that veiled worry. “That I am afraid?” He’d come to know her well enough that it wasn’t what she’s truly asking. 

‘Are you okay?’ 

He wasn’t. He opened his mouth to speak. To answer that he was fine. 

All that came was a cracked sob that had built from the lump in his throat. Quickly stifling it, he swallowed, clenching his jaw. It’s getting harder to breathe by the second. 

She moved his hand from her eyes, turning around as he cast his gaze towards the grey-stoned wall. Because more than anything, he doesn’t want to see her disgust. Her realization and disdain at who he truly was; rotten to the core. He, who acted so high and mighty, pretending that he’d done no wrong and that his position now was rightfully his. That he’d earned it, and that his past was a clean slate. A rags to riches story, and if not riches, then at least a life of peace. 

He deserved none of that.

And he couldn’t even fathom his audacity of asking to be her’s. 

“Don’t look at me.” He managed to find enough of what’s left to utter the words. “Please, I only ask this one thing, if I even deserve that mercy.” 

Soft hands brush away his hair, tracing his cheeks before they held him like Rhine was made of clouds. A deep loathing only grew from it, anger and seething rage at nothing but himself. The kind where all he could do was sit there and take it. The kind where there’s nothing he could do to kill it. Nothing but to bear the brunt of the storm that had kicked up inside of him and await her judgement. He closed his eyes. 

“Dainsleif?” She pierces the spiral he’d thrown himself into, speaking with the voice of something heavenly, a lifeline. She’d destroyed the question of whether he deserved to grab a hold of it. 

He hung on. He turned to face her. 

Rhine became the embodiment of divinity, casting him nothing but anxiety at the state he’s in and a courage to stay with the abomination that he’d become. 

“I will look at you- all of you. And I will have everything. Or nothing at all. Do not hide yourself from me.” She raised his head slowly to meet her eyes. Golden, intelligent, beautiful. Stars that swirled endlessly, like a sweet drink with molten sunrays for the base. “You pledged your life and loyalty to me on your honor and your name. Do not pull back from your duty. Do not lose your pride or shrink away from who you were and always will be. And above all else, do not forget that you are mine.” 

He reached, and almost clasped her hands around his own. The sight of the scars and stitches stopped him, inches from her skin. “You would have this wretched beastly thing before your eyes?”

“I will have whatever and whoever I wish. And my wish just so happens to be the ‘wretched beastly thing before my eyes’. I will have you, however you are.” She nudged him closer, as if that will somehow help get her words through to him.

The slightest of touches brushes her hand. “Do you think I’ve come out of it so much worse?”

“That is not for me to say. Even if you did, there’s nothing wrong about becoming what the world then had declared us to be. They fear us, then they turn around and revere who we are. But no matter how much we try to change, they will always see every Khaenri’ahn as something to be kept away from. We are a nation of heretics. There is no redemption for us. And that is nothing to be ashamed of.” 

As the final words leave her lips, his younger self walks past them, holding a stick with something on the other end. He kneels down next to Azzy, pulling her close to him. 

“You have to eat. It’s the only way you’ll get better soon.” 

“Thank you.” It’s quieter than how he’s heard it in such a long time. 

His sister bites into the man’s heart, and immediately, her eyes brighten with a little more energy than before. 

The Alchemist turns around, pulling him by the sleeves to sit down next to them. He watched, stunned, as her face shifts into the same fond look she always had for her. “You were good to her.” She reached, ruffling the pearly white hair. “You did all that you could. And both of you made it. Asmoday lived.” 

He’d never heard it put this way. 

Rhinedottir’s soft smile is all he could see and all he ever wanted to. “Give yourself some credit.” 

Azzy finishes the heart and time moves again, only enough for it to be a dead hour in the night. The fire that had roasted the man had been put out long ago and the bones were tossed near what’s left of the wood. 

They both watched the two children sleeping, leaning against the wall and each other. His throat tightens, vision blurring because he remembered now what happened. Rhine touched her forehead again, eyes widening in panic. “She’s worse than before.” 

“She died.” Finding his voice, he managed to speak through gritted teeth. “She died in her sleep and I didn’t even know.” 

A white glow from behind him draws their attention, spilling light into the small alleyway. 

Irminsul seemingly floats towards them, kneeling down next to Rhine. “I would have taken her then if you hadn’t fought back.” 

“Are you death?”

The woman doesn’t answer, looking at something else. Looking at his younger self who’d just woken up to find a stranger hovering a hand over his sister’s head. 

He swung, the fist passing straight through the face and into the brick wall. It’s not enough to stop him. He’d lunged, crashing to the other side, then tried grabbing her hand. “Stop!” The scream had tore through the night air, piercing it like knife. “Get away from her!” 

“She has already failed, Dainsleif. She’s useless now, and is holding you back. Have you forgotten?”

“I don’t care!” Nothing worked as he clawed and kicked, bursting into wretched sobs as he grabbed Azzy, clinging onto her. His crying punctured with begging. To leave them alone, to go away, and eventually, to take him instead. 

The woman manages to turn them both into her, leaning down to whisper in his sister’s ear. For a moment, they stayed that way, his wailing being all they could hear. He remembered it vividly, unable to recall any details other than the feeling that someone had plunged a knife into his chest. It hurt so damned much, worse than any of the hits he’d taken in his line of work. 

Standing a few feet away from them, he could still feel how his hands shook then, and even now. Sure and steady whenever he held his sword, but trembling underneath. 

“Dain?” 

Her eyes opened, confused and dazed, like he’d just woken her up from a nap. 

He’d pulled back in shock and for a good minute, he stared at her, unable to believe his eyes before bursting into another round of tears. “Don’t do that again.” 

“Don’t do what?” She’s never looked so small in his life. But something was different this time. 

Rhine touched her forehead again. “Her fever broke.” 

“Why are you crying?” Her voice came clearer now that she’s completely awake and well again. “You weren’t crying in my dream.” As she mentioned it, her tiny face lit up. “Can I tell you? It’s the first one I’ve had since forever!” 

The Alchemist stood up, returning to his side as the entire night came back to him, filling in all the missing pieces. 

“We were in a field of flowers, it could turn into whatever one she picked up from the ground and liked.” His breath shook, a pounding against the inside of his skull. “Red, then green, a white lily. And then-” A spike of pain shot up behind his eyes and he stumbles. 

“Dain-” She grabs his shoulders, keeping him from crashing into the opposite wall. “This memory must have been locked away like this for a reason, you don’t have to-”

He fought to look at her, to hang onto those golden eyes because it’s the only thing keeping him from straight up fainting. “Inteyvat. It was pretty to her, and the entire place turned into a sea of it. The flowers couldn’t be crushed, and they could never die.” Inhaling, he tried to manage the burning agony inside, now rapidly fading away as Azzy’s dream finished, leaving him barely able to stand as he leaned against her. 

She pushed her hand up on his head, and remained silent relieved that it wasn’t a fever of some kind. He could barely fathom seeing this side of her. 

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper. “You once remarked how you know things about my sister that I don’t. So tell me, please.” He didn’t know what he was hoping for. Answers, maybe. Closure. “Does she remember what happened here?” 

Rhine has never looked so concerned in his life, her hands fallen to his shoulders. Was it even possible, coming from someone like her? “She told me you two had it rough, but nearly all the details were lost to her. The only thing she remembers is your face, from back then.” 

That can’t be it. “Is that all?”

“She wonders what happened. This period in her life must have been a long, blank canvas. Would you have me tell her?"

"No. I want her to forget. This isn't something that will do her any good."

“There are things she doesn’t understand because of it.” 

He shook his head. “No.”

"it's her right to the memories you both shared." 

"If I get a throbbing headache from remembering something as simple as her dream, then what might happen if we make her remember everything?" 

"He isn't wrong." The misty woman draws closer to them. "It'll only serve to distract her again from fulfilling her duties." 

He's never hated that word more than in this moment, always looming over him like a shadow. Maybe it was resentment that pushed him, years of holding everything back. But when he spoke again, it was with a venom he didn't think possible. 

"What duty?" he hissed. "What could possibly be so important that my sister of all people needed to be sent away for it?" All that time spent trying to protect her from the ruthlessness of the world around them, only for her to leave. Only for her to end up alone in the lands above. He wanted answers. 

"You still do not understand? Did you ever wonder where you both came from?"  

"The streets of Khaenri'ah."

"Before that." 

He'd never given it any thought, and that fact silenced him. There'd always been the assumption that someone must have been there. Someone must have had them before neither of them could remember. But it was never something he dwelled on, because surviving until the next day always occupied everything else. 

Irminsul raised a hand towards the sky and around them, their plane of existence shifted once more. The sun rose and set in the opposite direction and it didn't take much for one to figure out that she's rewound time itself. 

It all melts back into place outside of the city gates. Old marble doors with broken locks were wide open, and no one was guarding the perimeter. A gentle breeze sweeps the grassy plains and hills outside as stars littered the abyssal night. 

"Your sister should have made it. If not for the Mad King, she would have completed her task long ago." She pointed at a falling star, plummeting from the sky and into the horizon beyond. 

The Mad King was long gone, and he didn't care much for things concerning the history of their home. Though there were some instances that Asmoday talked of when she came home from school. 

"Tell me everything. I need to know how. Why. What truth could there possibly be that's important enough to send her to Celestia and steal something from the gods?"

"She was sent down from heaven to find the pearl, to find the truth in the Abyss so that the world may know of the tragedies the Second inflicted." 

Then the star that fell...

"Our true creator, the Primordial One, Phanes, sent her. Khaenri'ah was her last resting place before she continued her journey. She would have made it. If not for my King Irmin." 

Maybe the Lector had been right about not revealing all of this to him that one night. With the number of questions churning in his head, the creeping dull pounding of a migraine was beginning to come back. 

"The Abyss sent her back up there with nothing to show for it." 

"Phanes is not the Second Who Came. She was his last hope to break the binds that shackled him in the Heaven of Heavens. That plane exists above the waters that make up the skies you see. By revealing the truth to the world he would be freed." 

He could barely process the amount of information spinning inside his head. But if he were to boil it down to a single thing, it would be that both whatever god this was and the Abyss were trying to find the pearl. Basically sending Asmoday into a giant loop. 

"So no one knows where the pearl is?" That fact infuriated him more. It was a chase for something he wasn't sure even existed, something that had nearly everyone around him clamoring to get their hands on. A wonder how one simple piece of rock could entangle her in something on a scale this massive. 

Her eyes glanced back up, finding another, slightly bigger star. "She got sidetracked trying to survive here, so Phanes sent you. You, Dainsleif, fell from the sky to Khaenri'ah. You were supposed to be the Letter from the One, the reminder that she still has a task to do. And yet, she failed."

His eyes darkened, feeling a surge of anger boiling underneath. "She was a child." 

"She was Phanes' child. As were you."

"That makes no difference.” Poison dripped from his tongue. “To send someone who could barely reach the height of a table is pure madness. My sister died in these lands.” His voice burns with anger and resentment. “No benevolent god would allow that to happen. He may have made us. But he will never deserve my devotion. Am I supposed to be grateful that we'd been spared just so she could find a way to break his binds?"

"You would betray your creator?"

His hand twitched on the hilt of his weapon. "I would plunge this sword through his heart if it meant my sister would return home safe. And I would burn all of heaven if the gods so much as laid a hand on this woman beside me."

Irminsul only gazed at him with a look of something apprehensive, further multiplying his unease. "Then I hope your aim is true, and your flame everlasting. You will need it. You may be made of true divinity and stars, yet you are still but one man. And what can one man do against the might of the gods? Nothing." She raised a hand, swirls of color ready to sweep them all into another memory. "Nothing at all." 

"You speak as if you know."

"You speak like the woman you now follow." 

"Then tell me, is there a chance? Anything?" 

"One. The new king's order. It has not changed from the one my King Irmin was going to give. If only he'd never gone mad." Her voice fades into an echo, and all falls away. 

Chapter Text

He never could stay for long whenever he visited her. Asmoday knew that each time he did would draw suspicion from the divine because like the waters of Fontaine, the leylines acted like eyes. And wherever Marbus went, he left a stain behind, an Abyssal one that took time to erase.

That mattered little now though. She’d survive many, worse things than a blizzard, having been nearly cut in half by a Mitachurl on her first day in Teyvat. Those instances where she’d run into them were rare though, as there weren’t many to go around. But even with that, Marbus thought otherwise. 

“Humans are more fragile than they think.”  

He stays behind her, using what’s left of himself to melt away some of the snow in front. It was only at his insistence that she allowed it. Well, it’s not like she could have stopped him anyway. 

The man was now walking, trudging up the snow with her due to the nail. And whether it was out of anger or spite at the mountain that wanted nothing more than to see them make a mistake, she shoved the snow back with her legs and hands, a lot harder than she should. 

It didn’t take long for him to notice it. “You will tire yourself out.” 

She doesn’t respond, only grabbing a fistful of snow and hurling it at the mountain in frustration. Only for the wind to throw it back in her face. They paused, but it did nothing to dampen the rage she felt, how powerless she was against something as simple as a hike up a mountain and a blizzard. 

“Asmoday, there’s not much of the journey left.” As if that would somehow dim it. 

“This stupid mountain won’t stop snowing!” She kicked up some snow, completely unsatisfied with how easily it scattered. 

She hated it. Hated this damned place, her brother, Marbus, her master, the king. Everyone and everything she suddenly found herself hating, all for different seasons. 

Most of all, she hated herself for being so naive, so immature, how despite everything, she remained the same as the day she'd left home.

She hated also, the fact that this was trapping her in a paradoxical cycle, a neverending loop of hate that contradicted, stretched and pulled her heart in every direction. It paralyzed her. 

“You’re burning, Asmoday.” His voice finally shakes her from the trance, but did nothing for her anger. “Your eyes turn as dark, as the chaos that made me. Set your gaze towards the sky.” 

Finally reminded of the one outlet she had, she grabbed his hand, surprising him, and they continued. She didn’t need the fire from him against the storm around them anymore. The atrocities the Second committed were enough. There was a princess to save at the top of the mountain and there would be many more waiting for her to come home. 

She doesn’t remember much of it, other than focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and worrying about Marbus’ energy. 

By the time they set foot on stone and ducked under an arch of the buried kingdom to rest, she’s shaking from exhaustion. He, however, showed not the slightest hint of it. Though she could barely make out the orange glow that’s keeping him alive. 

A giant celestial nail stood upright, having been plunged deep into the earth and frozen over by the brutality of the mountain’s neverending winter. 

Finally sliding down the wall, she takes a moment to breathe, a brief respite from her journey. It’d been a long and arduous one, but she loved every moment of it. Freedom came with the symptom of impulse and it never faded away completely. 

“You should go back.” 

“I will stay until I witness your ascension myself.”

So persistent. 

He drew a circle, opening a portal into the Abyss and reached in. She crossed her arms, a pout forming on her lips. “Seriously? You’re going to give me homework right now?” 

Despite Lectors not being able to express themselves with their whole face she could read his easily from his eyes. He pulled out something small enough to enclose around his entire hand. Definitely not a mind-numbing textbook or any ancient text. 

“The Abyss concentrated a piece of the true sky.” In his hand, was a black four-cornered star. 

She blinked, trying to process what he’s getting at. “A gift?” she blurted, thinking out loud. He’d taught her The Abyss was cold, apathetic to anything else other than it’s Will. Marbus more than anything, emphasized that everyone within it had ulterior motives, including him. 

“What, has the darkness grown a heart?” she laughed, but nevertheless grateful for it. 

“The darkness needs you to succeed.” He shoved back some of her hair and clipped it on sloppily. “Use this only in emergencies. It will send whatever message you’d like, in a form that would leave no trace on the lands above. I personally molded the substance to make sure of that.” 

She runs her fingers over the smooth surface. “That sounds a bit over the top if you ask me.” 

“You will be the first mortal to witness Celestia and come back. It is necessary.” 

Smiling to herself, Azzy leaned back, rubbing her eyes. 

“Rest one more night in the lands above. You must be ready for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back before you know it.” Grabbing some snow from the ground, she begins packing it into a ball. Then, snatches his arm without a second thought and smashes it against him. The snow all but fizzles and vaporizes into nothing. 

“I wondered what would happen the rest of the way up,” she says before he could ask. 

“How childish.”

Molding another one into a ball, she smooths it out and sets it down before repeating it again. Over and over until she’d formed a small circle with them. She sits for a minute, both of them staring at what she’d made. Then, 

“Do you think I could fill this entire place with snowballs?” 

“It is impossible.” 

“You’re no fun.” She stands up, kicking a bit of snow at him. “I’ll prove you wrong!” 

He nodded towards her, giving her permission to wreak havoc atop the mountain and do what she wished. Making snowballs had nothing to do with her assignment at all, and Marbus never allowed for things that weren’t useful. It wasn’t like him to approve of anything less than what the Abyss wanted. He was strict about it too. 

She thought about throwing one at his face. That idea would get her reprimanded. But it would be funny. Giggling to herself, she sets another one down, making a pyramid shape with them. 

It’s not long before she had enough to line them from one end to the other, close to the edge of the mountaintop. Clapping the snow off her hands, she looked back. 

He’d pulled out his entire work setup, paper, scrolls, quill, ink, translating from a thick textbook. Out of all the things he could be doing to finally relax, and he chooses to work. She could hardly believe it. Judgment is radiating from every particle of her being. 

Still, a warm nostalgia came from him as his quill scribbled across the page. Whether he knew it or not, to her, it felt almost like she’s at home. There’s a peace and quiet here, so close to the atmosphere she loved. And after everything she’d been through, they both deserved a break. 

Her hands worked on another snowball, starting the second row. Halfway through, she thought of assigning each one to a person she knew. Dainsleif, Rhinedottir, Marbus, the baker, their neighbors… Listing off the names in her head brought along brief memories associated with them; mostly of food, her hobbies and studying. With Marbus still writing, she finished as much as she could before sitting down to admire her work and draw in the snow. 

And to reminisce. 

. . .

“Dain!” She burst in through the door, gasping, barely able to stand straight. Running all the way from school back home easily took the wind out of her. “Can you empty our icebox?”

“What? Why?” He’d all but stopped doing the dishes having been startled. “It’s empty.” He looked so concerned she almost laughed. 

“Great!” She pushed in, dropping her schoolbag and snatching their picnic basket. “Mr. Akka wants us to taste test the new cakes he’s making for the festival this year- do you know how much that is?! I’ll be right back!” With that, she slams the door behind her and takes off for the stall in the market. 

It’d grown busier as the days went by. The smell of roasted and barbequed food hits her as the crowd thickens, jostling her around. She’d learned to stick closer to the ground if she wanted to be quick. 

And there was a clear path to some skewered matsutake meat rolls.

Even back then, she had little control over her impulses, so she made a beeline straight for the food cart. With Dain’s mora, she grabbed five. 

Then five more. 

And rushed to the sweets stall, nearly bouncing off the walls from anticipation. But the volume of people had only increased, making the path for it impossible for her to slip through. 

“Mr. Akka!” She jumped up and down, waving her hand as her head popped above the people and disappeared the next. “Mr. Akka!” 

A narrow slit finally opens up and she darts past. 

“Sorry I’m late-” 

“Never mind that, Sigurblot!” He gently shoves her behind him finally saving her from the crowd and yells back for his daughter. The little girl comes running, jumping into her dress excitedly. 

“Azzy!” She gives a toothy grin, and tugs her along, hopping like a fairy with wings. 

The kitchen table was completely covered in boxes, all of them holding a different slice of cake. 

“The white and blue one is the sweetest!” she says, grabbing one and setting it into the basket. Her head barely reached the table. 

Sugar loved the flowers outside the city gates, and whenever she couldn’t go, Asmoday would string together a garland to bring back as often as possible. Lately though, she didn’t have the time to; most of her neighbors and some people in the market needed her help with decorations. 

As they both finished packing everything into her basket, the girl reached out her hands expectantly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to this week to make one. But I’ll be sure to bring one tomorrow, what color would you like?” 

Disappointment filled her tiny eyes, shoulders slumping as she fiddled with her own dress. Asmoday felt like someone took a sledgehammer to her chest. “Blue…” the mumble was barely audible. 

“Alright, and for my grave mistake how about I do your hair with flowers before the festival?” 

She immediately lights up. 

“I’ll see you soon then!” Azzy grabs the basket and waved the family goodbye on her way out. Then rushed back home, hoping she hadn’t been gone for too long. 

When she slams the door open again her brother was just turning off the stove. Her stomach rumbles, catching a whiff of Braised Meat. “Are you guarding the festival this year?”

“It’s still a whole month away.”

“So? Everyone’s already excited for it, there were so many people putting in orders that I could barely slip through- That smells so good!” Kicking off her shoes, she slid up next to him and reached for a piece. He smacked her hand away. 

“It’s hot.”

“I got us some fried meat rolls to go with it.” She turns and starts carefully putting some of the cakes in the icebox. “Actually no, can I bribe you to go this year? If you don’t come this year, I’m gonna eat it all right in front of you and hide your armor.”

He snorted, handing a bowl over to her. “That’s blackmailing.” 

Setting it down on the table, she descends upon it in an instant, inhaling the food like a cat that’d found a stash of treats. 

“Slow down.” 

She laughed, heeding his words- but it’s so good, better than the slop they serve at school. “Please? It’s been so peaceful these past few weeks, maybe even the bad guys are taking a break from whatever evil scheme they always have.” 

“Why do you want me to go so bad?” 

“When’s the last time you got to have fun? Months? Years? Besides, I wanna show you something I learned.” 

“Are you going to blow something up?” 

“It’s a surprise!” 

“Even worse.” 

She quickly finishes the food and opens one of the cake boxes. There are swirls of green frosting inside, vaguely reminding her of the nation of freedom in the lands above. The Crown of the North, as it was written in her school textbook. Dipping a finger in, she’s met with a fruity sweetness, like what she would drink during the summer. “This one would sell really well.” Digging around for a marker, she scribbles a ‘Make more’ on the lid. 

Then she does the same to the blue and white one.

“Use a fork.” 

“No.” She quickly checks the top of the lid before moving on. Then finally decides to just bite into the cake, it was faster that way. “This one is citrus, a little more valberry on this one- maybe less wolfhooks in the cake itself-”

“Use a fork. You’re going to leave your bite marks everywhere.”

“That’s the point. That way I can have it all to myself.” 

“Glutton,” he muttered, as she pushed a cake box towards him. 

“Try one and let me know what you think.” 

It takes him a few moments to find the right words. “It’s freezing. But not in a cold way.” If it had been anyone else, they would have stared at him baffled. 

“So that one is mint.” She opened up the rest of the boxes, looking for a particular one.  

“Try this one, I think you might like it. Mr. Akka said it doesn’t have as much sugar in it as the rest.” 

A giant pink flower with a wobbly smiley face in the middle made up the frosting. And the frosting looked like fifty percent of the cake. 

He stared at it incredulously. Then dipped a finger in and tried it. 

Surprisingly, it tasted perfect, leaving his expression baffled. 

“Is it good?”

He nodded in disbelief, trying it again. 

It’s rare to see him show interest in anything as simple as that, and she hoped for this one moment it’ll stay. “I’ll have him make extra.”

“Just… ask him to make the frosting something else.”

She raised a brow. 

“Azzy, I absolutely cannot be caught dead eating this.” He turned the box towards her, the smiley face staring soullessly into her eyes. 

“What do you mean? It’s perfect for you, you match!” 

He gives her a look as she fought to hide her shit-eating grin. 

“Oh come on, I can’t ask him to change the design for every single cake just for you.” 

“He doesn’t need to. Just one is fine.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow.” She takes the glass of water from his hand and sips it before putting it back. “So how was work today?”

“Normal.”

“Nothing weird?”

“It would be better if you were one.” 

An audible groan earns her another complaint from him. 

“You can barely hold your own against the average person, what might happen if you get attacked by a monster?”

“But I don’t want to be a knight, Dain. I want to be something else.” 

He glanced at her briefly, and she was afraid he might not like her answer. Avoiding his eyes, she went back to trying the cakes silently, now with strange shame following her. 

“What do you want to be?” It’s quieter now, but not disappointed. At least his tone didn’t sound like it. 

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Something different- that would make me stand out. We- we can both be good at different things, we don’t have to focus on one.” 

He’s moving to put the dishes in the sink, but the silence tells her he’s listening. 

“I want to make things, sell them. I want to paint, and I want to become the best at it. If I can’t do that, then I want to create something so amazing that it would… get the attention of the king.” 

At this, his ears perked up, but he doesn’t stop moving. “You never wanted his attention before,” he said, surprised. 

“Well, he’s the king isn’t he? If he says that what I make is good, then it has to be good.” And if he says that, you would be happy right? You would be proud? “I want him to at least know my name, like he knows yours.” 

It’s a moment before he speaks. “The royal family is distant, even to their own knights.”

Was that disapproval? The tone didn’t seem to change, but here she was, analyzing it, trying to figure out if she could keep pushing her wants. “You could be a knight, and I can make things- a painter. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He doesn’t turn around from the dishes he’s doing, but she could tell he doesn’t like that idea. “A knight would be better.” Silence envelops them for a brief while before he sighs, and relents. “At least let them take you under for practice-”

She almost nodded at the compromise.

“-It’ll be easier on me if I know you can defend yourself. In case something happens to me.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

The suddenness of it made him stop and look back. 

“Why not?” 

“Because-” Her hands tightened on her dress. “Because… I want to be lazy and stay at home all day.” 

“Azzy, be serious.”

“I am.”

“Asmoday.”

“I just don’t want to… didn’t you say a long time ago, that I should never join anyways?”

“That was then, it’s safer now, you’ll be a part of the ones guarding the palace, not out patrolling.” 

“No.” She shook her head. “Are you mad?” 

“I’m not.” He turns back to the dishes. 

“Are you upset?”

“I have no reason to be.” But his tone said otherwise. 

“You’re upset- I know you are-”

“-I’m worried, and I still don’t understand why you hate it so much.”

“I don’t hate it, it just looks so stifling,” she protested. “Maybe you can do it, but if I were to join it’ll feel suffocating. There are so many rules and codes you have to live by- I’d break fifty of them on the first day!”

“Azzy, I’ve compromised you to practice.”

“No, not even practice.”

Flabbergasted, he looks at her in disbelief. “The only rule is to not decapitate yourself.”

“Still.”

Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and she took that as a sign to stop there. He’s probably tired from the day and her arguing won’t help at all. 

“It doesn’t make sense.”

She swallowed, biting her lip as she put away the cake boxes and wiped up the table. A familiar weight in her chest came with the same clarity to his confusion. “Maybe you’ll understand one day, but I hope it never comes.” 

And without waiting for a response to that, she quickly mutters goodnight and rushed to her bedroom. Tumbling into the bed she grabs the stuffed owl and hugs it. His words haunt her. 

In case something happens to me.  

She would never join the knights, there were so many other reasons for her not to. She wanted to be free, the codes were stifling, the job looked like it sucked the soul out of him, there had to be other ways to make him proud. 

But out of all of them, nothing made her more strongly opposed to it than the fact that she’s scared. Not from the brutality that some of them faced, even at a lower rank. Not from Dain coming home with blood-splattered armor. 

He held a dangerous job already, but when he became captain of the knights, it only put a target on his back. She didn’t know what he did, but it’s enough that he walked through the door with the occasional cut on his arm, talking something about getting attacked on the road. As if it’s the most normal thing in the world. On those days, she resented the Black Serpents a little more, for indoctrinating so little regard for his own life into him. 

If she ever followed in his footsteps, it meant that the next time he got ambushed, he wouldn’t be coming home. He would think that there would be no more reason to keep going; she could defend herself, there wasn’t any need for him. 

Then he’d die outside and rot and be consumed by maggots. 

But if she couldn’t, he’d have to keep going right? He’d have to fight harder than he would for himself to get back, because all they had in the world were each other. Everyone else she knew up and down the block had families, a mother, a father, relatives and maybe some siblings. 

If he was gone, who else is there? 

She hugged the owl tighter, curling up into a ball even more. The door suddenly opened, and he blows out the lit candle. He stands there, and an awkward silence ensues. There are things he probably wanted to say, sometimes she can’t guess what it’ll be, but as always, having enough of it, she speaks up first. 

“Did you like the cake?”

It takes him a moment to hear her voice, muffled by the owl. His footsteps draw closer and the tension from her overthinking releases. Her brother pulls the blanket over her head, just how she always liked it.  

“It was good.” 

And she was little again, and he’d just bought their home. He’s coming back with cake and Inteyvat everyday. The bed is softer than clouds. The window sends a warm breeze. She could dream, they were safe, they were okay. 

. . .

“Master Rhine!” She gave the machine one giant tug, inching her way up the hill. “I’ve finished the homework!” 

At the sight of her nearly toppling over, she rushed over. “Goodness-” Together, they gave it one last pull before all of it comes to rest at the top. 

Azzy stood back, exhausted, glad to find that her master’s expression was nothing short of impressed. 

“You did amazing work with this, all the components would be in the right place if we do this right now.” Circling around it, she pushed it over onto its back and found the empty power source, satisfied with her work.  “We’ll test this out tonight, come inside for now, the day’s only going to heat up. 

Stepping inside of her home felt like heavenly bliss. Rhine had turned up the cooling box to the max, an invention she made for the sole purpose of making sure none of her research caught on fire from the hot summer. Azzy wished she could buy one. 

“Do you have another assignment for me?” 

“I have many.” Rhine poured a glass of water for her. “But now that I know how capable you are, you’ll be joining me.” 

“Really?” 

She smiled. “The royal court already gave their input on several new designs. It'll be up to us to finalize the versions that will be manufactured on a mass scale." 

"What are they for?" 

"Khaenri'ah's still recovering from the coup even after all these years. We lost a lot of people then, and the king wants to make sure we have enough manpower for defense." Turning to a pile of folders, she flips through them. "I'm sure you learned about it in school, though it can't beat experience." 

"Did you see it happen?" 

A short laugh was the response. "I was asking about you, dear." 

It was something that neither of them really brought up. And it was a blank spot in her memory. 

"How old were you then?"

"I don't know. I don't remember much of it." 

"Your brother never told you?" 

"He always changes the subject whenever I pry." 

She could sense the smile in Rhine's voice. "Ah. Typical." 

"He really doesn't like you by the way." 

This elicits a laugh, finally coming to the table with the right folder in her hands. "As if that's not glaringly obvious."

"Why do you always insist on hanging around him? He's so stubborn and boring. I told him that once and he said that's what he's aiming for." 

"Maybe I like difficult people." 

"I can't stand them." 

“Speaking of which, these new designs need us to bring our best to the table. If they impress the court, we’ll get approved for more funding, and sway the king over to our side.” 

Azzy finishes the glass and leans back in her chair, swinging her legs. “Why?” She hadn’t heard of any political arguments from her brother, but then, he never said much to begin with. 

“The court is taking sides on our work. The mages say that we’ve disrupted the natural order of things; harnessing starlight to power our machines.” She chuckled. “You should see the list they made against me, it could wrap around the palace walls.”

“Do they not like you?”

“They never like me, but I was tolerated of course, we’re cordial with each other.”

Her master’s ‘cordial’ was veiling her dagger-like insults and sarcasm behind a knowing and wise smile. 

“Though lately they’ve been growing bolder with their requests. It’d shock your pretty little head if you knew what they try to do on a daily basis.” 

“If we lose the king’s favor would that mean we can’t do all this anymore?”

Her master’s gaze softened at the concern and worry. “I won’t let that happen, Azzy. So don’t you worry, it’s not good for the soul.”

“When did you become spiritual?”

She laughed, pushing several books over to her. “Something that caught my eyes several days ago. The pursuit of knowledge never ends.” The cover held sketches of people meditating, and of orbs floating in circles. “Really fascinating to study." Getting up, she opened another folder for her.

The new design sparked that same urge of putting something together inside of Azzy. She couldn’t wait to start assembling the gears and pulling together panels of metal. “Wings? Four of them?”

“This is a smaller design, like the Field Tiller. Once it’s done, we’ll need to make an upgraded version. All you have to do then is give me a few suggestions, His Majesty agreed to commission some engineers to put it together for us.” Rhine closed the folder, sighing a little. “But unfortunately the materials you’d need to start on this haven’t arrived yet. You have the rest of the day off.” 

Visible disappointment rolled off her shoulders. “Oh.”

Rhine pulled out a small box and set it down in front of her, then opened a drawer and grabbed a long piece of silk. “Sew.”

Azzy blinked. “What?”

“A jack of all trades is better than being good at only one thing. And as your mentor, it is my duty to teach you everything I know.”

She only had a general idea of what to do. Picking up the needle, threading it with a random color. Pushing it in and out, and forgetting to tie the knot, letting the whole string slip through. Trying a second time, she finishes about an inch and they both find a pathetic wobbly line on the cloth. 

“Not bad.”

“You’re lying.” 

“When have I ever lied?” She pulled up a chair and grabbed another needle. “You have to estimate where it comes back, with some practice, I’ll let you start working with starlight.” There was always a sparkle to it that Azzy couldn’t place, something that made it shine in the sun and it made her master stand out in the crowds. 

“I want a black dress. As dark as the night sky.” 

“We’ll get there when we get there. Pick something simple first.”

She thought for a moment. “A pastel purple for when I go outside of the gates. I want it to be a dress I can wash dirt and grass stains from.”

“And pockets?”

“Big enough to hold at least one bouquet on each side.” 

Rhine laughed a little. “Your dress might be bigger than your brother’s armor.” 

“It’ll be better than his armor,” she says. “It’s so clunky and I looked like field tiller.” 

Her master goes quiet, smiling to herself. Azzy knew it meant she’d just thought of a new idea to try out. But the gears are still turning and it’s a moment before she finally speaks. “What do you think of a new, bigger field tiller?”

Her eyes widened. “How big?”

“One that’s taller than a mountain.” 

Was that even possible? There’s all the weight to think of, all the sheets of metal, the bolts, lighting too. The sheer amount of math that’s going to take is already making her head spin. Starlight would be needed to power it, that’s a given, but how much of it would they need to use? And what if some code goes wrong and the thing goes haywire? 

The concept of it however, sounded amazing. 

“Do you think we can do it?” 

“I don’t see why not. There’s nothing stopping us except for gravity, and even that can be made debatable.” 

Finishing the stitch, she ties off the thread and holds it up. A flash of one of Rhine’s notes comes back. Bulletpoints on DNA, genetics. The faint drawing of a dragon. If her master didn’t want to stop at anything then surely, not everything they make has to be machinery. 

As Rhine examined the cloth, nodding with approval, Azzy’s fidgeting with her thumbs. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to ask. But if not now, she might forget, and then they’ll never get around to it. 

“Why so nervous?”

Surprised that she noticed, Azzy fumbles. “Is it okay if I try to make something… on my own?”

She raised a brow. 

“I want to do it without anyone’s help.” 

Instead of frowning and listening to worry after worry like her brother would do, Rhine smiles. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Yes.” 

“Is it illegal?” 

Azzy paused. A brief silence follows. She only knew the laws that were common sense to everyone. Don’t steal. Don’t kill. 

“Asmoday, is it illegal?” 

“Maybe.” 

Rhine smiled. “Perfect. What do you think you’ll need?”

Azzy blinked, shocked at how easily she agreed to it, so different from her brother. “But, we might get caught-”

“This was your suggestion, I’m only encouraging it.”

“If my brother finds out-”

“Just a little more paperwork for him,” a chuckle escapes her as she moves for a pencil and some paper. “I’ll make sure he’s not too hard on you.” Tapping her head with the notepad playfully, the anxiety dissipates. 

“I don’t know what I need yet… I’ll think about it.” 

She sets it back down and waves for her to follow. “Come on then, let’s put the thing you made together and see how it works.”

It didn’t take too long to assemble, and by the time they were done, the sun was already beginning to set. After clapping the dust off her hands, Rhine stood gazing at the work with pride. “Can you grab the paint dear?”

They drew on the symbol of their nation; a black eight-pointed star. After that, she doodled on the metal, different flowers that she’d picked from the fields outside. Inteyvats, mostly. Then stick figures of her, Rhine, and Dain. It’s a little ridiculous how colorful the entire left side of it turned out. 

Her master watched, occasionally looking down the hill as she laid down on the grass. “We’ll have to wash all that off tomorrow,” she says, eyes glowing with amusement. Probably because of the one strand of hair she gave to Dain. “Make it shine a little more before we do. I have some leftover flowers from my last experiment.” 

Azzy spots the clump of them near the woods in her yard. It’s not the usual colors she would have used, but it’ll have to do. Working her way around the machine, she stuck as much as she could in each of the little crevices and cracks. There was almost a sense of utopia in the air. Nothing worried her. Time had all but gone. And when she finally steps back, Rhinedottir laughs. 

“It looks more ‘Field’ than ‘Tiller’. You could have planted enough to engulf the entire kingdom in flowers by the end of this year.”

That sounds fun. “Is it legal to try?” She sits down next to her. 

“The best I can do for you is get permission for the king’s gardens. Maybe try your luck knocking on doors and giving a discount.” 

“Would my brother like it?” She smiled, holding in a laugh, imagining his face if she ever brought the thing home. 

“He’d be baffled, for sure. But there should be no objections to it. Call it a business venture.” 

They sit in silence for a moment as she turned the idea over in her head. Looking at it from here, it could be anything but a tool for war. Birds and squirrels could make homes out of the hollow power source. Little pockets of grass and flowers could grow between the connecting limbs, sheltered from everything but honeybees. 

It’s a while before Rhine speaks up, gazing at the thing she made. 

“You can turn anything soft. Play to that and see what you’d like to do.”

“But what about Dain?”

Rhine maintains that steady smile, gentler than everything else. “He’d want you to be happy.” She looks at her, melting into what looked like nostalgia. “You’re his only family and he’d do anything for you. So live, and live for the both of you, without any regrets.”

. . .

The banner spear had been hastily tossed to the ground when she ran off to find some flowers. Marbus could never fathom how she never got tired; most would have just laid down during a break. 

In no time at all, she’d come back with an armful, freshly picked, and plopped down. Her nimble hands were quick, working knots and carefully twisting stems. 

“Put away your spear properly.” 

“Do you want one? What color do you like?” she asked, completely ignoring him. 

“I see no value in such meaningless things.” 

“You’re no fun, like a rock.” 

And despite having lived longer than she could count, he, who had seen and heard too much, grew slightly irritated at such a small, childish jab. 

“How old are you?”

He glared. 

“You should come to the festival this year, they’re holding a dance circle in the market. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get some fun back into your old bones and creaky joints.” 

He huffed, fire flaring from his eyes as he crossed his arms. “It would be a waste of my time. Human things hold no value, everything you see is not even a grain of sand in this world.” His gaze shifted to the sudden thirty flower garlands she’d finished. “Including that.” 

“So what if it holds no value?” she laughed. “It holds value to me, that’s all that matters.”

“Then why is it that when you finish them, you leave some behind? They litter the hills each time you go home.” 

“It’s simple isn’t it? It’s my way of saying ‘Asmoday was here.’ I want to be seen and remembered even for only an hour. Even if no one would know me thousands of years later, I want my existence to be noticed now, in the present. To prove I’m here.”

Marbus goes silent, watching her weave another garland. 

“And sorry about the creaky joints comment; if that offended you.”

He scoffed turning around and floating towards the training ground to begin setting up. 

“I have no joints to be offended for. Nor bones. Though I cannot say the same for you.” 

“Fine then. If you don’t want a garland just say that,” she pouted. “I’ll bring you something even better. Something worth it.” 

Without paying any mind, he continued on his way. 

“I’ll bring you a star!” Azzy shouted down to him. “From the false sky!’ 

“Impossible.” 

“And so is sending me up to heaven, and yet here we are!” she replied. “Would a star be worthy of your time?”

“Your focus is the pearl.”

She groaned and picked up the spear, stretching before going down the hill. Stuffing one into a bag does sound a bit difficult. She had no idea if both the pearl and the star would fit. “How about if I touch their ocean instead? Would you believe me if I did?” 

A small flame burst in what she could only assume was a scoff as she handed the spear back to him. If even he found it ridiculous, then maybe it won’t be worth it. He clipped the weapon back and dropped a heavy bag right onto her shoulders. She nearly ate dirt. 

As he floated towards the sky, she scraped her heels on the floor. Today would be like any other, and facing the woods towards Rhine’s hill, a Hydro Herald stood near the bottom with the portal open. Marbus grew an orb of fire in his hands, one which she felt the heat of on her back. Her last assignment was simple. 

“Run.” 

She leaps, the fire crashes into the ground leaving a burnt mark, and she takes off for the woods. Meteors of fire rain down and bolts of fire shoot past. Tapping from one foot to another, she felt light as air. It’s freeing, exhilarating. Red circles form on the dirt. There’s a flash of purple. 

Flames burst from the ground, exploding violently as lightning rips its way across to her. It singes her skin, there’s tingling in the air. Anywhere she felt it, she moved the opposite of. There’s no time to think. Or even breathe. There’s a wide grin on her face. 

A geo herald plunges into the ground in front of her, and the earth shatters beneath her feet. Pillars tear apart the dirt.  With a lunge and a blink, she’s past it, sprinting as fast as she can. Not for fear. But ecstasy. 

The same tingling comes back, followed by heat. Molten lava and bolts hurtle down, imploding upon themselves, feeding off of each other’s energy. It follows her all the way to the woods, and she dashes across the threshold. 

Immediately, vines and grass grab at her heels and arms. Towering trees are brought tumbling down, onto her path, onto her. She leaps over it all, twisting and turning away from branches and things that could snag her at all. A dendro lector teleports in and out of her sight. There’s heat and electricity behind her. Marbus and the other lightning herald were giving chase. The earth suddenly rips open. She snatches a vine, and shoots forward, away from them all. 

Hydro slashes their way to her, a wheel of cutting water and she lets go, sliding down the trunk of a fallen tree. Ice follows after, racing to freeze her in place. Lightning’s on her back. The dendro lector and Geo herald snatch at her and tears the path apart. Marbus is posted in the front, ready to lunge. 

A pillar shoots up and she kicks off, twisting a vine around her hand and letting it pull her along the ice. The woods race past. It throws her.  

She jumps onto a branch, eagerly hooking it with the bag. The weight of them pulls it back, and catapults her into the air. Above the trees. 

The world. 

Rhine’s home is just up on the hill. The city to her right is bustling, busy as ever. 

She slams the bag down on Marbus, knocking them out of the air. The heat turns up, flames licking her skirt as he struggled to break their fall. Without a second to lose, she jumps off and lands back on the ground. 

With a swing and a leap, both the bag and herself were through. 

She tumbles onto the Abyssal floor, made of nothing but darkness, crashing right into the snout of a startled dragon. 

And she laughed, laughed until her sides hurt, all the while, Durin looked on in concern. Large purple eyes blinked, like a dog that just had a trick played on it. The adrenaline still coursed through her veins. Exhausted, she gives him a pat, and starts climbing on. She hadn’t flown him yet today. “You wanna do a big stretch?” 

Immediately, he perks up, an earth-shattering growl ringing in the darkness. His wings stretched. The portal was still open. His feet thumped towards it. With one giant push, he’s through, and they’re shooting toward the skies. Sighing in contentment, she relaxes and hangs on tighter, taking joy in Marbus’ expression. 

She’s not sitting on a saddle and there are no reins. 

“Go as fast as you can!”

A short roar pierced the air and her mentor took that cue to race up there with her. It’s too late. Durin dives, they tumble for the ground at breakneck speed. Wind rushes past her face, she could barely open her eyes due to it but her heart pounds. Shrieking and laughter escape her mouth at the thought of death and Marbus chasing after them. 

There’s fear, panic, the kind she craved and loved. He spun loops, turns, barrel rolling and swerving through the skies like a rogue missile. There’s safety, despite not having a saddle or reins. She could let go, and either of them could catch her. 

“Don’t you think, you can be more?”

Rhine’s voice reaches her. 

“No gods, no sinners.”

She lets go. In a breath, the dragon slips away from her and she falls. Her stomach drops. 

“If freedom is what you wish for, Asmoday, I can give you that-”

Instinctively, she reached for the sky. The sky full of clouds, of sun. 

“-And more.”

Of everything in between. 

Durin sweeps her back up, giving a muffled roar as her collar hung on one of his jagged teeth. There was no need to beckon or call. There was no need to hold back from going as high as she could. Because someone will always catch her, if she ever falls. 

And that, more than anything, fueled the need to become absolutely free, with nothing to keep her down. 

. . .

“It’s time.” 

Azzy’s shaken awake by him, the first thought being that she wanted to go back to sleep. She rubbed her eyes, and pushed herself up from against the wall. The nail remains the same, and the peace of the mountaintop helped clear her mind. Stretching, she makes for it, wondering what to do. 

The dying heat of the man doesn’t follow.  

“Marbus?”

He waved her on and she remembered then, that he couldn’t come any closer. It left a bitter taste in her mouth; she wanted him there. 

Tapping on the ice gave a dull thud, leaving no chance that it could be hollow. 

She reached into her bag and pulled out the key; a light blue cube that seemed to hum with a power she was afraid she couldn’t handle. Out with it clattered something else. 

The snake ring. Stuffing it back into her bag, she thought of leaving it here with Marbus. That way, it wouldn’t be broken. But then, what if he lost it? 

She holds the cube up, wanting more than anything to complete her task and go back home. Because for the first time, she’s willing to let go of her stubbornness and relent. To tell Dainsleif that she missed him. 

Digging through her bag again, she pulls two curved hooks, things she’d bought in Natlan for no reason other than that they looked cool. Now it proved useful. 

The cube gently floats off her palms, towards the top of the broken nail. 

A face slams into the ice. 

She shrieks, stumbling back and tripping to the ground in shock. 

Wordlessly, the familiar heat suddenly reappeared and a pair of hands quickly lifted her off the floor like a cat. He’s not supposed to get so close. 

The woman appeared trapped in the ice itself, banging on the inside and clawing at it like mad. Desperate muffled screams filled the air of shock. 

“The princess,” Marbus rasped as if he himself couldn’t believe it either. 

Asmoday snatches the hooks and digs them into the ice barely chipping any of it off. “Hang in there!” Reeling it back, she hurls all of her strength into it. A small chunk falls and a web of cracks breaks the surface. 

The princess slams her fists into it with a mad fury, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Slits of pure white began to appear on her skin and a mist is seeping out. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that her voice was getting louder, a sign that it’s working. 

Azzy shoved Marbus back out of the way before hurling herself at the ice, nearly busting the entire thing open. 

The princess lunges for it, for her. 

And her entire arm disappears. Her body begins to disintegrate and she shoves her face towards it in a desperate attempt to finally be heard. 

“You’re next!” 

The shrill cry cuts through the air like a knife, leaving only the ghostly resonance of an echo behind. Her form dissipates. The ice breaks clattering to the ground. Silence drowns them once more. 

For a moment, all she could do is stare. With the words still ringing in her ears, her head is spinning, trying to make sense of it. 

“She’s gone… was that the warning?”

“It cannot be anything else.” 

“Do you understand it?” The message was so cryptic, so quick. It’s almost like the princess was never here with how she was gone within a blink. And there’s no trace left at all either. “What do you think it means?”

He only tensed, then began making his way back to the arch. 

“Wait.”

He stopped.

“Can’t you come with me?” They’ve both been over the plan more times than she could count. She should know well what the answer would be. But yet, it can’t be helped. 

“Are you afraid?”

She nodded silently and without looking, he knew. 

“Turn back.”  He should have more things to add, but she’s heard it a million times already. Too young. Not prepared. Naive. A child. All of those things came in full force yet she’s made it this far. There's no turning back. 

Her fists clenched, hanging her head in shame. 

“Go on. I will wait here for your return.” 

She thought he might’ve stumbled a little, and an ache grips her chest. How selfish of her, to even ask that question. It only proved him right. 

Still, she wasted no time climbing to the top of the nail. The sooner she could complete the task, the sooner he could get away from here. The embers in his eyes and arms have dimmed significantly. 

Reaching the top, she pulled out the cube, bracing herself for what might come next. She needed to hurry, but leaving on that note didn’t seem right. There’s no telling if they’ll ever see each other again and Azzy preferred not to think about the possibility of death. 

She crawled to the edge and poked her head over. 

“You’ll be here for me right? You’ll know when I’ve done it?” 

He stood motionless looking up at her. And gave a nod. 

With some of her worry appeased, she turned back and gave the floating cube a flick. Nothing happens. Tapping it swallowed her entire hand. Taking a moment to hype herself up, she finally plunges in headfirst, knowing full well where it’ll spit her back out. 

With the safety nets that were all the people she cared about, absolute freedom drew closer. Only an inch away from her fingertips. 

Chapter Text

They nearly tumble to the ground when the whirlpool of color finally stops spinning. Immediately, a thick iron stench filled the air and he covered his nose. 

The small campsite with dry dirt and dust kicked up as a young man dragged a body through, blood smearing the ground. It was a ghastly sight, the corpse mutilated beyond all recognition. 

Dain almost grabbed Rhine’s eyes again, if she hadn’t moved forward to follow the man. “Where are we?”

The only answer she gave was a frown and a slight tug of his sleeves. 

Patched tents and tiny fires were lit to prepare when night falls. Around them, people paid the blue-haired man no mind, as he continued onwards, stumbling along like he hadn’t slept in days. 

All of this, told him that it was still Khaenri’ah, ten years ago. 

They watched him disappear into a larger tent, soft smoke coming out from a hole he’d probably cut out at the top. She stared at the tarp that made the door. 

“Rhine?”

She swallowed, then grabbed it before pausing to look back at him with a haunted, shameful smile on her lips. 

“Behind this, is the source of my arrogance.” 

A single sweep of the tarp takes him inside, the smell of blood hitting him like a sack of bricks. In a corner near the back, there was a pile of bodies similar to the one the blue-haired man had dragged in. Tables stained with crimson and littered with notes and books made for a tripping hazard, and several people rushed back and forth, scalpels or test tubes in hand. 

But among all of that, right in the very center, was a young girl decked with a crown of golden hair, feverishly writing something down. 

Looking at the two was jarring in the way that they both never changed. Even standing behind the woman she’d become, there was a sense of danger that lingered. She watched her own self set down the notes before grabbing a knife and plunging it into the heart of the fresh corpse the man had dragged in. 

With a face made of stone, completely disconnected and unfazed by what she’s doing. Intent on getting whatever she wanted. 

“I’ve bathed in the blood of mankind since before I could remember.” The freezing tone of the woman’s voice anchored him to the spot. “So, I’m not afraid.” 

He steeled himself to draw closer, to stand facing the little girl with her. “You haven’t changed.”

A slight laugh fills the air. “No. Not much.”

They watched the blue-haired man plop down into a chair to rest, before lifting his head up to look at her past self. Another sidled up next to him, leaning against a pole that was holding up a part of the tent. 

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Everyday.” He narrowed his eyes. “Things are getting worse in the city. At this rate, there will be no people left to save.” 

“The Mad King might finally come to his senses if we leave it to burn.” 

“You would destroy our home to prove a point?”

The other man only laughed. “Forget it. When do you think she’ll be done?” 

“Before tonight-”

“I’m done!” A bright merry voice fills the air as Rhine hops down from the chair and wipes her bloodied hands onto her white dress. “Just say the magic word, and they’ll all do what you want.” She raised them, making a motion for payment. “Where’s my candy?”

“I think it’ll sound better coming from you.” A fond smile crosses the man’s eyes, as he patted her head. “Here’s the biggest piece I could find.” Chocolate the size of a toddler’s hands is quickly snatched off his palm. 

“Find, or stole?”

“You know the answer to that.” 

She only giggled, taking a giant bite and already leaving half of it gone. Her tiny cheeks puffed up like that of a squirrel as she gives him a bright, satisfied smile. 

“What do you want next time?”

And Dainsleif watched the girl’s eyes light up with the same glint he sees so often in the woman now. Dangerous ambition. The tiny Rhine reached out an open hand to show the man. 

“I want the world. Right here.” 

This elicits laughter from all the other people inside the tent and the smallest of giggles from the one beside him. 

“Can you give me that?”

“I don’t see why not. But you’ll have to earn it first.” 

“What do you want me to do?” 

The man smiled, then reached over and dipped a washcloth in water before handing it to her to wipe the blood off. “I need you to learn something.” 

“Yeah?”

He grabbed a basket full of bread, holding it out in front of him. “Compassion.” 

She blinked, crossing her arms. “Again? Everyone’s gonna die sooner or later, what’s the point?” 

“You want to get far pursuing knowledge, no?” He shoved it into her hands, knocking her temple a few times. “Loving our people is just another stepping stone to world domination.” 

And like all children, her eyes widened at the idea. “Really?” 

“Without them, who would be there to cheer for you when you make it? Who’ll put that crown on your head?” The man gave her a few pats. “Go on now, be kind to them. Learn how to love.” 

The little Rhine pattered past them both, slipping outside. Meanwhile, the present one pushes herself onto what must be the operating table, with the body still there. A nostalgic smile forms on her lips as she takes a curl of the corpse’s hair and plays with it. 

So many questions spun inside of him, he doesn’t even know where to start. Only he never needed to say anything, because she always knew. 

“You must have at least heard of the uprising to oust the mad king from his throne.”

He tried to recall it, but only fragments of it came. “I remember hearing about some trouble at the city gates, but we never got close to it.” 

Her expression softens ever so slightly. “I think I understand now why Irminsul brought us here.” She lifts her head, pointing with her eyes toward the man with blue hair. “Use your head, Dain. What’s his name?” 

It takes him a moment. There was no mistaking the rusty shine of the blue, nor the abyssal pools of water for eyes and the brown skin that glowed as radiant as the stars of their nation. 

“Alberich.” 

He could barely believe it. Their present king was much younger now, more rugged and filled to the brim with limitless energy brewing underneath. “He took you in?”

“Not for long, no. I joined some traveling scholars after the usurpation.” She picked up a bloodied scalpel. “I know you’re burning to ask where my parents were. Same as you. I’ve got none, at least not anymore.” The light reflects off the tip, her gaze turning back towards him. 

“I’m sorry.”

She gave a chuckle, hopping off the table and setting it down. “Don’t be. I hate pity.” 

“I-” he cuts himself off, not sure what else to say. 

“Executed by the Mad King on the account of being thieves and heretics. Were you ever there for them?”

He shook his head, speechless. He and Azzy always stuck to the alleys. 

“They lined them all up, I forgot how many- but there were enough of the accused to wrap halfway around the walls of the palace.” She pointed up. “And one by one, the blade came down.” Her finger followed the motion, as if she was the guillotine herself. “It got to my parents. There’s a strange thing that happened when it did. Their heads are lopped off, leaving blood to spill out everywhere on the ground, into the crowd, onto me. You know what it reminded me of? A plant, blooming from the soil. Life.” She gives an amused smile, lightening the heavy subject. 

“You didn’t cry?”

“Never was close to it. Even back then, I never knew my old folks much and we were already a small clan, so not even our family name remained. But from what I’ve heard, the mad king burned every record of us, every document that proved we existed. Alberich was the one who took me here to this camp.” 

“Does he remember you?”

“Oh I’m sure he’s long forgotten about me. But Irmin… I wonder if that old fool remembers that there was still one left he let through his grasp.” 

He stepped closer, wanting some clarity. “I don’t understand, why was he so intent on destroying you?”

“Who cares?” She replies, shrugging as she picked up a small wooden toy on the floor. “I know I don’t. The past is long gone, there’s no need for me to dwell on it, what we need is to focus on what lies ahead.” 

His eyes fall onto the pile of bodies, and on the corpse behind her. They all held that same look and stench of death, but something golden snaked up their necks, up their fingertips. Wires, that wove in and out of their skin like they were clumsily sewn on by a child. 

“Your family taught you how to embalm bodies?” 

Rhine’s smile grew into an amused one that gave neither a yes or no. 

Behind them, a white glow fades in, and they turn to find Irminsul standing in all her regality and sophistication. Without a word, she raised a hand, and the world begins to shift again. The tent, the bodies, the dirt floor all swirled and melted away, and from it came a grassy plain, the night sky, and lit torches. 

Around them, people wheeled the dead bodies on wagons, with Alberich at the forefront. 

“See if you can find me.” 

His eyes scanned the rebels pulling out their swords, hastily forged from whatever metal they could find. On the other side, dozens of guards hunkered down in formation, waiting for an order. “There are no children here.” 

She drew closer to him, pointing at one of the wagons. “That one. I swear the smell of it followed me for a week.” 

A shout rings loud and clear in the air. Alberich hurled his torch forward, and their group of rebels surged in one wave. Almost immediately, two are cut down as more soldiers began to outnumber them. But a few managed to cut through the middle, letting the rest follow suit, clearing a central path and allowing the horse-drawn wagons to be pulled through. They disappear into the city with a few following behind. 

With a snap of her fingers, Irminsul takes them to the roof of a house nearest to the gates of the palace, the most heavily guarded thing in all of Khaenri’ah. He couldn’t figure out why they’d rushed in with barely enough people to break through the first line. Much less what the corpses were for. To throw on them? Something to shake the soldiers’ morale? 

A couple of guards made quick work of the people guiding the wagons, tying and throwing them to the side to be executed in public. 

“There’s a child!” One of them quickly pulled Rhine out of the pile of bodies as the others came rushing towards her. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, hanging onto his leg. 

“She must have hidden in them to escape-”

“Check her for injuries-”

“Hold the line- we need to get her somewhere safe.” One of them hauls her towards the palace, just as the gates open. 

It was the first time Dainsleif had even seen the Mad King himself. There were still relics and carvings that remained, sold as antiques or rare collectibles. He’d seen them when Azzy wanted one of them to play with. But seeing the man himself stirred up all kinds of emotions he didn’t want to untangle. 

The old man had grown a long, white beard, and was so thin that any semblance of a ruling king was nearly gone, from how his robes draped over his shoulders. He wore a crown, tangled in a mess of hair, and he looked more like a fool in king’s clothes with how his eyes had sunk deeper into his skull than was humanly possible. 

And they widened, so much that Dain thought they might pop out. With one bony finger, he points at her. 

“You…”

In a breath, the Mad King flies into a rage, shrieking at the top of his lungs, nearly tearing out his own voice. “Kill her! Get rid of her this instant!” 

“But Your Majesty-”

“What are you waiting for?!” 

“We saved her from the rebels, she was buried beneath the corpses-”

He snatched a sword from a soldier, swinging down, and a clang rings loud in the air, blocked by the weapon of another. She screamed, scrambling away and into another knight. Another one moved forward, drawing their sword. 

“What are you doing?” 

“His Majesty’s orders.” In one swift motion, a line is slashed across his throat, and the knight protecting her crumbles to the floor, sputtering. Almost immediately, two more stepped forward, drawing their swords and pushing her behind them. 

“Are you insane?!”

“She’s just a kid-”

“Child or not, we swore to do whatever His Majesty commands.” The man stood his ground, now pointing it at the people among his ranks. “We are the knights of Irmin and we follow him to the bitter end. Stand down. Or would you like your’s to come sooner?”

“Wanna know what the magic word is?” Rhine whispered to him. 

The smaller Rhine held up a hand, having been forgotten by everyone in the argument.

“Glory, to His Majesty.”

They stopped, pausing to look at her. Something jerked in the wagons, the corpses that had previosly been lying still were now spasming their way up and onto the ground. 

“Glory to Irmin!” 

“No!” The king lunged, but there was only so much a feeble old man could do against half his own soldiers. The rest drew their weapons, slashing out a few holding him down, and lunging for Rhine. All the while, heads, limbs, full bodies, crawled or rolled their way and latched onto the knights around them, finally drawing their attention.

“Glory to the Mad King!” A soldier clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling her away as she struggled in his grip, only then realizing what she’d been trying to do. They’d been deceived. But it was too late. 

“What have you done?!”

She bit down on the hand, they let go and she tumbled to the floor. 

“Glory!” 

A deafening explosion shakes the very foundations of the palace and all the buildings surrounding it, windows shattering, orbs of hot fire hurling everything away from their cores, as the overall force pounded into his chest like shockwaves of an earthquake. The fireworks compared to this, were nothing. Fire tore through like a raging flood of water as the corpses continued to roll or crawl out. 

No one could survive that. He turns to look at her in utter disbelief. “You-” Another one rocked the house they were standing on, and she slips on the tiles of the roof. He snatches her back from the edge. 

“Careful.”

For a moment, they stay that way, the sheer impossibility of her, leaving him speechless as she clung to him to keep from falling. Close enough for her breath to cascade upon his neck and when he finds his voice, it's but a whisper. “Have I pledged myself to a ghost?” 

Her lips tugged into a faint, amused smile. “And what if you did?”

Huffing a breath of incredulity, his eyes searched the roof for some footing before setting her down. 

“Would you follow a ghost?” she laughed. “You would look as mad as the king.”

“That is not what I-”

Her eyes widened and she grabbed his face, turning it back at the scene. “Look.” 

Black smoke had mushroomed into the air, billowing as the wind blew it in whatever direction it pleased. Bodies mixed in with the corpses that had been wheeled in. Splotches of blood stained the dirt. And through all of that, two figures remained, facing each other with no restraint or shackles. 

Rhine appeared first, her golden eyes piercing into the very soul of King Irmin himself. 

He cowered on the ground, on his hands and knees, staring in terror at the little girl before him, The first rays of light peeked out from the horizon behind her, signaling the end of the long, bloodied night that left nothing but ashes and bodies in the wake of her trail. 

And never had Dain seen such a sight. 

To find the Mad King, the source of all his grief and pain from the beginning of his life, kneeling before her gave a strange sense of contentment, but it also terrified him just as much. Because it meant she possessed something enough to bring the old world to her feet.

Irmin began to sputter, begging to be spared, to disappear into exile within the depths of the palace. Anything but death. In hysterics, he tore at his hair pounding on the dirt path and clinging onto her dress so tight, it might shred. 

Standing next to the one beside him, he grasped her hand. She should be dead, from what had just happened. “You’re alive, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” The gaze in her eyes softens. “I’m alright.” 

It was a reassuring comfort he needed to know that she was still right here. And his heart was all the more relieved for it.  

The little girl approached the king slowly, each step more sure and confident than the last. Tiny hands reached out, it sent him scrambling away on the ground. She stopped, then pointed at his head. Irmin flinched, complete terror painting his face, burying his head into the crook of his knees. “Let me go, please let me go, I promise- I promise you won’t hear from me again-”

“I want that.” She spoke evenly, steadily, like a child spotting an ornament in the market that caught their eye. “That yellow thing on your head. Give it to me.” 

He whips it off and shoves it into her hands quicker than anyone could blink. “Take it- take it! Please, let me keep my head-” As the terrifying forefront of her image begins to melt back into that of a child, he turns his begging to appeal. A shaking, toothy smile is given, hoping she’d help give him some amnesty. “Is it enough? Do you like it?” 

Little Rhine looked at the crown in her hands, the sharp edges and spikes occupying them completely. Her expression shifts, studying it carefully.

“I can- I can give you more, anything you’d like. Jewels? Diamonds? Children- children do love things that shine-” A looming shadow falls over both of them, sending the king back into his hysterics. 

Alberich stands, bloodied and with a fury in his eyes that could turn the palace to ash. Still fresh from battle, it takes a minute to calm himself enough to begin talking. To dull the rough and harsh edges of his voice, enough to not scare Rhine, though it’s barely restrained. 

“Are you hurt?”

Shaking her head, she turned the crown silently in her hands, deep in thought. 

“Give it here.” He reached for it, only for her to pull it back, clutching it tighter. His gaze turns to Irmin, a look so cold it could have frozen him over several times. 

“You said… I could have the world, if I earn it.” 

“Do you think you did a good job?”

“Yes.” 

Alberich sighed, kneeling down to her level. “You’re right, you did well. But you’re smart too, and do you remember what smart people do?” 

It took her a moment, but she nodded. 

“Ask your questions.” 

“What is this called?” 

A short laugh escapes the man, effectively melting his hard, iron-forged exterior. “A crown.”

She blinked, staring at it and trying to form the word in her mouth, so strange and foreign. 

“Do you want to see what it looks like on you?” He pulled up a soldier’s shield, slamming it into the dirt so that it stuck upright into a makeshift mirror and Rhine lets him take it for a brief moment, if only to put it on her head. They turn, her reflection stares back. The crown was already slipping to the side, too large for her head. 

She frowned. “It doesn’t look that nice. Nobody can see me.” She took it off and started giving it back, then paused. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Is this… the world?” 

He tilted his head, thinking. “A piece of it.”

“But I want the whole thing.”

“Then this thing is useless to you. It’s a piece of the world, yes. But it’s long been molded into one that no longer fits with the rest of the puzzle.” 

“Then why do you need it?”

“Because it controls the lands underneath, and we can’t let something like that fall back into his hands.” He tossed a quick glare to the fallen king, still weeping on the ground. “I promised you the world, Rhinedottir, but it’s not here. The world is beyond the gates of this city, in the lands above. In Teyvat.” He reached for the crown again. 

She shrunk back, still holding it. “Can I keep it for a little while longer?” 

After a hard stare, he finally sighed in defeat. “Follow me then. Don’t lose it. As for Irmin- lock him underneath the palace.”

The king’s dragged away, just as another woman sidled up next to them both, her lighter blue hair reflecting the sunlight. “The gates are secured.” Before Alberich could say anything back, she smiled warmly at little Rhine, and took her by the hand. 

They both lead her up the steps, taking care to make sure she won’t trip. She’s tiny enough so that holding their hands would keep the crown she’d slid onto her arm stay put. Occasionally skipping a few steps, they finally make it to the top. 

There’s a wide grin on her face- the one standing next to him- watching her younger self with the fondest and bitterest of smiles. 

Irminsul begins to sweep the air, and Rhine stops her. “There’s no need to waste your effort.” She turns to him, and unease crawls into his chest. “They took me inside, we explored every inch of the halls and walked up all the towers. I stayed with them until a group of traveling scholars came to investigate what happened. And after they were done, I was sent on my way with them. When I came back, all trace of me having ever existed was gone; their majesties didn’t remember me, in fact, no one did. I never understood it. But, I don’t mind.” 

A bitter smile draws on her face. 

“It gave me a chance to start over. I’m still Rhinedottir, just a different one.”

He wanted to hold it. Wipe it off, and replace it with a better, happier one. 

She could see the twitch in his hands. “I got close to them again and it’s just like before. My past doesn’t matter to me, so I never brought it up to anyone. What use is there to it? You should know well what it’s like to leave it all behind and stride forward. Your sister should know.” 

“It matters to me.” They’d grown so close throughout the time Azzy’s been gone, so much that he had to remind himself that Rhine still kept things from him. Things she deemed unimportant, but they were the parts of her that he so desperately wanted to know. He didn’t want to think about it, because doing so meant that there was still a chasm dividing them. A rip in the earth that he hadn’t managed to build a bridge across yet. “There’s still so much you haven’t told me about you.” 

“We have all the time in the world for that.” Her expression turns soft, ever so slightly. “And maybe, we can start here; Irminsul wants us to know something by cycling through these memories. Simply saying it out loud would not be enough to convey any severity.” 

The ghostly woman held up her hand, the tension finally falling off her shoulders at having been understood by her.

A swirl of color. He’s nauseous and that feeling was rare. 

. . .

They’re standing in her house. Her face immediately lights up into a humorous one. “We all have skeletons in our closet. Now, would you like to see what mine are?” 

He blinked, still reeling from the transition. 

Chuckling to herself, she pulled him towards her bedroom. Two things ran across his mind. 

One. The gold color and accents in her room looked aesthetically pleasing. And that’s coming from someone who never cared for it. 

Two. He wasn’t ready. 

She’d always been the more flirtatious one with her words and the way her touches lingered on him, so it’s a given that she’s at least read a couple books on… he preferred not to think about it. Heat burns up his cheeks, and with a hand, he covered his face, making it the most conspicuous thing. It doesn’t take long for her to catch on. 

“You’ve brought down enemies of the kingdom with unwavering loyalty and a heart made of stone. Yet a single thought of shedding your clothes in front of me is what gets to you.”

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“Well, you’ve done it before.”

“Yes, but it was- we were-”

“What’s wrong captain? Weak in the knees?”

“I am not weak in the knees.”

“Oh but you’ll soon be.”

“Rhinedottir, please -” Gods, his ribcage was starting to hurt again. 

“Alright I’ll spare you,” she laughed, pulling a handmade carpet back. There’s a trapdoor underneath and in a blink, she’d opened it, revealing a staircase that led down into darkness. Climbing in, she beckoned him to follow. 

“So that’s where you’re going to kill me.”

“Why yes, let’s have a look at what you’re going to be murdered with, shall we?” 

Rhinedottir had built an underground lab beneath her house and from the sheer size of the area, it could have run across the entire hill. It’s dark, lit only by gold-glowing starlight and chemicals from unfinished experiments. Wood tables held all her research, papers that spilled onto the floor much like the ones in her living room. 

Deeper in, a slow cold gnaws inside his chest. Surgical tables had been pushed to one side, cabinets and trays of scalpels and knives were left out in the open; as if they were going to be used. There’s blood on the floors, trails that all led to a corner hidden by a white curtain. 

The corpses… the ones he’d left behind for Rhine to pick up with the king’s warrant. The disbelief from that sends him into shock. He stands, rooted in place. There was no need to think about the messes he left behind after she’d gotten permission. That’s probably the one thing he was grateful for back before they’d grown so close. 

And here it was, all of that mess coming back to face him. If he opened that curtain, it would be there. The reminder of all the lives he’d taken, all the deaths he didn’t know if he could justify. 

“Pick a tube.” 

She stands in front of him, covering the view of the curtain with herself. 

“What?” He could hardly breathe. 

She took him by the arm, and turns him towards the other things in her lab. 

Glowing tubes filled to the brim with liquidized starlight meet his eyes and in each and every one of them were mutations, living breathing things she’d made. It stole his breath again. One of them held a wolf cub, as dark as the night. There were fish with bulging eyes, reptiles with fangs sharper than knives. A human fetus in another. 

He’s going to throw up. 

There’s only one empty tube. “This one.” 

“Name it.”

“Albedo.” And it was a string of sounds that he’d thrown out of his mouth, in the midst of the absurdity of naming a tube. The one she’s going to stuff me in, he thought. “Albedo… is that okay?” He hoped it didn’t sound too ridiculous or incoherent. 

“It’s perfect.” Rhine smiled softly, the gold of the tubes reflecting something heavenly on her face, as she turned the name over to herself. “You called him ‘Light’. The second stage of Alchemy.” 

He hadn’t read a single textbook since training. “‘Him’?”

“The one over there,” she pointed at the fetus right next to it. “I named him ‘Dorian’. I’ll be making another in this tube just in case the first one fails.” 

“And if that happens?”

“I’ll dispose of him of course.” She’d said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, devoid of any compassion, like they were nothing but mere objects to her. But he had no right to judge; the single white curtain behind them was the only thing separating him from all his atrocities. 

Before he could change the subject, the trapdoor opens again, bringing their attention to it. Rhine held a knowing look in her eyes. Hope, maybe. And she assumed right. 

Pearly white bounded down the steps hurriedly, clutching a small bag close to her before rushing to a wooden table piled with research on DNA. 

He froze. Gaped. Shock bolted him into the floor like the marble locks on the palace gates. His sister was here. His sister was here. How long had it been since they’d last seen her? A lump forms in his throat, making it hard to breathe, he reached out as she flips rapidly through the notes unaware of the three people behind her. Unaware of him. 

“Asmoday-” Her name barely makes it out in a hoarse whisper. 

Like shrapnel in his chest, she can’t hear him. 

A soft “Oh,” comes from beside him. Rhine tries to brush back some of the hair from her face, a fond smile on her lips, tinged with pain. “I think I know what this is.” 

Azzy pulls out a small test tube filled with purple liquid. A dark clump of cells rested inside, pulsating. Breathing. He blinked, unable to believe his eyes. 

“She took my notes on the deconstruction of a dragon’s DNA…”  

“Asmoday?” Another voice called down, startling her. “Come with me to the city, there’s a clearance on silk imported from Liyue!” 

“I’ll be right there!” 

He’d forgotten how bright it sounded, how loud it could be. 

Footsteps sound from the steps and Azzy scrambled to shove it back into her bag. It’s too big, and it’s halfway jammed into before the past Rhine sees it. 

“What’s that?” Her brows furrowed. “Purple?”

“I swear it’s nothing bad-”

“If you’re working with what I think it is, your experiment needs to be terminated.” 

“I know-”

“Let me see it.”

She hesitates, then, not meeting her eyes, she hands it over. Rhine holds it up to the gold lighting, concern turning into fascination. 

“Are you mad?”

A kiss on the head was the response. “All by yourself?” she mused. “What is it?” 

His sister glanced at the notes briefly, nervously. “A dragon.” 

Rhine’s face changes, eyes widening. Jaw falling to the floor. Then her lips twisted into a smile, a glimmer in her eyes. An excited cry of disbelief and joy he’s never heard before. Sweeping his sister into her embrace, like a mother whose child just came home with a trophy or a medal. 

Azzy’s smile is all they can see. Beside him, the present one remained frozen with him, watching herself and his sister with a distant longing. 

“You’re a dream Asmoday! You make them come true!” 

A slight blush formed on her cheeks. “I didn’t really-”

“Yes, yes you did! You made this all on your own!” Looking at the tube closer, her eyes shine with possibility. “What do you think about making this the best it could be? Have you picked a name yet?”

His sister fumbled, flushing at how excited Rhine was. “Well, I never thought about it.”

“Give it some time, I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

“But what do you mean by ‘the best’?”

“However you want it to mean.” She sets it down, and sifts through the pile of research, pulling out diagrams and notes. “Stronger, faster, bigger. It’s still developing and we can add as many modifications as we want, so long as it doesn’t change what it is at the very core.”

Azzy hesitates, despite having made something impossible, there’s still that limit hanging above her head. The fear of asking for too much, of going too far.

“Go on.”

“I want him to be the strongest. And I want him big, as large as the field tiller you’re going to make. No, I want him as large as Sal Vindagynr.” She hung onto Rhine’s expression, hoping, fiddling with her thumbs. “Do you think we can do it?”

“Even better, we can make him blot out the sky.” Whirling around with a dangerously excited fervor, she makes for a small closet in the back, leaving Azzy to trail behind in awe and slight shock. 

“Really?”

“I don’t see why not. I guess the only downside is that we’ll be running out of room in this tiny house pretty soon.” 

She laughed, bouncing on her feet, eager to help her out with any equipment she needed. As Rhine hands her glass bottles and hollowed wires, there’s a glimmer in his sister’s eyes that he’s never seen before. Azzy had always kept a soft expression, deceptively emotional whenever he ticked her off. On most days, she held a quiet smile, veiling a childish manipulative voice that he had to admit, came to be useful. He’s seen every range of emotion in her. 

But never the way she lit up so brightly. 

He cast a glance to Rhine and laced his hands around her own at the pained expression. 

The scenes fade in and out, montages of Durin growing, of laughter and mishaps that made it feel like home. And the realization dawned upon him that it was Asmoday, his sister, who gave that life to it. Who breathed that sense of warmth and purpose, who gave them a reason to keep walking the path they were on. 

To create. To destroy, for the sake of something in between that neither of them understood. Peace, maybe. 

“I never knew how silence could be so loud before she left.” 

And on most days, neither did he. 

“Do you think she’ll ever come back? After all she would have gone through in the lands above?”

Rhine spoke softly. “You’re her brother. All the freedom in the world would not be able to replace you.”

They stay silent for a moment, watching the scene. Then, he grasped her hand, drawing circles on the back, before placing a kiss on her knuckle. “I think she would be happier coming back to you.” He found her eyes, and genuine surprise in them. 

She smiled faintly. “Give yourself some more credit-”

“You’re right that I’m the safest person she could be with, but I know I could never make her happy. Not in the way that you do. So… thank you.”

A brief slip of the last of her mask falls away, and beneath it, was molten gold, swirling like a warm honey that spelled out the very truth of who she was, at the core. A quiet, sunny day, enjoying her own company, books and notes scattered lazily across the grass. Underneath the mountains of bodies and basins of blood, he found her there. 

Then, it’s gone and she pulls herself together to reply. But that softest version of her is still etched upon her lips in a smile. She responds with a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s continue on.” 

Irminsul waves open another portal. He doesn’t want to leave. Neither does Rhine. For a few seconds longer, they gaze upon his sister, wishing she was home. Then, he reached, kissing her head goodbye in the same way he did back then when she left. Rhine hugged her from behind as much as she could, and they leave Azzy there, scratching Durin’s chin roughly like she would a pet. Smiling. 

. . .

They come to the drawing room inside the palace, adorned with soft couches, stained glass windows, and painted with a blue as deep as the night sky. He’d been there on numerous occasions, guarding King Alberich whenever he had a guest over. It was always locked, and without royal permission, no one could use it. And even then, part of his job was to be stationed there inside if it was ever occupied. 

Another Rhinedottir was sitting leisurely, hiding her face with the hood of that same white and gold cloak. Across from her, to his astonishment, sat one of the royal mages, looking rather unhappy. Tension was thick in the room, and they were alone. 

He wasn’t there to stand guard. 

When was Rhine allowed access? Or maybe it was the mage. Neither of it made sense. 

“Ah. Do you remember the little argument in court a week ago?”

Dain nodded. It was all anyone ever talked about, and he was there for the entirety of it. 

“This seems so recent.” Her brows furrowed like it always does whenever she’s trying to figure something out. “I had a conversation with the mage before we entertained everyone for two whole hours. It must be something we said that Irminsul wants us to see.” 

“How did you even get in here?” he asked, baffled. “I’m the only one who has the keys.” 

She contained a laugh behind her usual smirk. “I picked the lock.” 

Of course she did. He wouldn’t expect anything less. 

“Gold.” It was a rough, gravelly voice, and somehow it sounded familiar. The man’s face was chiseled, sharp and stern with white hair and a small beard. 

“Pierro,” she responded, smoothed and cold. “What business do you have with me?”

“You’ve gone too far.” He pulled out a folder and tossed it on the table, the paper landing with a loud slap. “All of this is evidence for that.” 

“I haven’t gone far enough.” She set down the teacup, flipping with one hand through the pages indifferently. “Khaenri’ah is free from the eyes of the gods. This is only just the beginning.”

The man sighed in frustration, rubbing his temples. “If you have any respect for the mages, Lady Alchemist, listen.”

She leaned back, tapping her fingers. 

“We are by no means, fortunetellers or any of that sort, but looking on at the path you’re walking, this nation will not last long. Everything you’re doing now is an act of defiance falling under all the Six Cardinal Sins that govern the lands above and below. I’m sure you learned of it.” 

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “I’m sure all of Celestia knows well that we could care less about their rules. The gods have no say here, neither do the Archons.”

“Whether you care for it or not, there are still consequences for violating them. With the experiments and things you’re researching now, it won’t be long before they take notice. You have pride, Gold. For this nation and yourself, but you’re a fool to believe we can withstand divinity.”

“You’re old, sir. I’m sure you must have lived through the Mad King, but you must understand that the reason things were so dire back then was due to its stagnancy. Nothing moved forward, and as the times began to change, Khaenri’ah stayed the same, eventually leading to the uprising that you, yourself, have written into the textbooks the children now study.” She tilted her head. “You agree that we need to stride forward, to make our nation a better place. We’ve come so far in our technological advancement and now you want to put a stop to it. Tell me how that makes sense.”

“We are striding forward down the wrong path.” He flipped the pages open to a diagram of a human. “I have nothing against you for the machines you’re making. But you are playing god by trying to tamper with creating unnatural life.” 

“It’s only another form of research.”

“That Celestia will notice. I have let the wolves and that black dragon slip by, but human life born from a tube is the ultimate form of arrogance, you’re declaring yourself a god among them. You, a mere human. Calling yourself divine in their presence without even a thousandth of the power they have. The gods have pride too, and they will be slighted.”

“If one mere human can slight them, they have no business calling themselves gods. They want all the love, praise and worship from the people for merely creating them, and in return for what? Anyone can do what I’ve done, I don’t hold back from sharing all I know. I give my apprentices at the palace all the tools they need, and they’ve proven that humans have the ability to do as the gods do. Yet we don’t ask to be put on a pedestal.” She closed it back. “And it’s been thousands of years since the Archon War. People are moving away from them, but the gods are still begging to be believed. In my honest opinion, Pierro, they’re pathetic.”

A steep quiet envelops the room. The man’s staring at her in stunned and frustrated silence, in suspended disbelief while Rhine only hardens her cold and indifferent exterior. 

“You love this nation, Gold, I have no doubt about that,” the man spoke slowly. “But you are blinded by yourself. Your pride, your ambition and arrogance, and you’ll doom us all.”

“You speak like the Mad King, crying in hysteria about the world ending, and the sky falling down.” She leaned forward, her gaze sharper than a knife, intending to cut him open. “I’m sure that man needs a companion after so long in the dark.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a comparison.”

The man’s jaw clenched. “As terrible as that man was, we’ve found that his words have begun matching with what we know as fact and our research. And recently, we’ve found a reason for that so-called stagnancy. The king was waiting for someone.”

She waited for him to elaborate.

“A messiah was supposed to come, sent from the heavens, and not Celestia. He was obsessed with someone that resided there, revering that thing like a god. That doom that we speak of is not fear-mongering, but a near prophecy of what is to come.” He turned, reaching again for the folder and flipping it to another page. “You have committed many of the Six Cardinal Sins, so you must know that there is more to this world than meets the eye.”

“I’ve only just begun my research in that area. You won’t get much from me.”

“We have more information than you do, concerning this matter, without violating the rules. King Irmin was questioned, his answers were cryptic, but we’ve come to the conclusion that there is an absolute truth to this world. Teyvat, Khaenri’ah. Celestia. And it is one that whole civilizations have been destroyed over.” 

Rhine looked on with resolute satisfaction. “I had a sneaking suspicion. So the ramblings of that old fool is the reason why you believe the world will end.” 

“You are a woman of logic, Gold. The evidence is there.”

“And do you want me to be afraid?”

“We want you to see reason.”

“By believing the words of an old man living in the dungeons of the palace? What is your solution to all this? What would you have me do?” 

“Terminate all your experiments, cease your research. Step down from your position.” 

“It’s too late for that, you should have gotten rid of me the moment I became a student in the palace.” 

“Then I’ll challenge you in front of His Majesty. He will have the final say about you. Out of respect for all you’ve done for Khaenri’ah, if he sides with me, I’ll grant you a request that is within my abilities to fulfill. Despite all this, you have my highest respect in that regard.” 

She smiled, satisfied and knowing. “Then I will do the same.” 

The sound of footsteps from the hall draws their attention for a brief moment. People were slowly trickling by, shuffling papers, readying inquiries for the court session that was about to begin. 

“What is it you wish for?” She asked, standing up and patting down the wrinkles on her dress. He waits for her to face him before speaking. 

“Relinquish your pride. Throw it all away and join us. The gods are inevitable and when that time comes, our differences in status and titles won’t matter. Give the mages assurance that you can at least agree with us on that.”

She bowed her head, making the promise. “You have my word.” As they make for the door, he speaks again.

“Neither I nor Alberich could have seen how far you would go.” 

Rhine froze, her hand inches from the doorknob. For a brief moment, shock flashed across her eyes, before she closed them, and turned again, to face him. 

“You remember?” 

The man swallowed, not sure what to say, but certain that she knew what he means. “A crown of golden hair when he plucked you from the crowd. The wires you sewed terribly into the bodies we collected. And I remember scouring the market back then undercover for your payment when Alberich had forgotten.”

“The past is best left buried. There’s no reason to dwell on it.” She smiled, ever so slightly, opening the door and waving for him to go first. He steps out into the hall, and she turned back to grab the folder on the table. And when she finds him still standing there, it made her stop again. 

Both of them passed a complicated look towards the other, though Rhine’s was more veiled and better hidden. Finally, she steps out with him and waved him down the hall once more. “That piece of chocolate was bigger than my head.” Another bow of the head, deeper this time, acknowledging his seniority when she’s never done so for anyone at all. “I thank you.” 

He nodded, then joined the stream of people filing into the throne room. 

It would be the last time he ever did. 

Chapter Text

She’d plunged into a swirl of color that came and went in less than seconds, in her ears, came the shrieks of time and wind. Her heart pounded on the inside, and she didn’t want to figure out how fast she was going. Explosions of light dotted her vision every once in a while, scattered with constellations and stars as dense as the nights back home. Something shatters beneath her feet. The smell of another thing burnt comes from the left. Above her was an endless void of darkness. All of this, only to twist and spasm into some obscure shape and color that raced past her and gather into an unstable mass of something. 

And with one final, deafening explosion, light fills every crack and crevice of the world around her. Molding, taking shape into clouds and blue skies, crackling into stone pillars that grew higher than the marble palace back home. 

Celestia was beautiful. Her footing bounced a little on the clouds and with a smile, she kicked up a mist of the soft cotton, watching it dissipate sweetly in the air. If Marbus were here, she’d definitely throw a ball at his face. There was plenty to go around. It was like an endless sea of clouds with nothing else in sight. 

Nothing except the giant ugly Colosseum in the distance. 

No really, it looked nasty. 

Playing with the clouds as she walked, Azzy made her way towards it, taking pleasure in hopping up and down like a rabbit on a sugar high. It must look ridiculous, and a tiny giggle escapes her. 

The structure was a dark, imposing giant, standing horridly against the backdrop of this place. Stained from bottom to top with a mud-like color and mold, probably home to a thousand different diseases. A slight unease crept into the back of her mind. Was this even supposed to be here? What if it dropped her in the wrong place? 

She opened her bag, stunned to find the golden cube nestled comfortably inside. Taking it out, it hummed and buzzed. 

“How did you get in here?” It was a little weird, talking to a cube. But then, talking to inanimate objects is her thing. “Can you show me the pearl?”

Turning with it floating in her hand, she quickly figured out that it vibrated based on whether she was going in the right direction. It led her past all the pillars holding the place up. She kicked one of them out of curiosity. Her shoe comes away with a sticky, dark substance. Disgusting. 

She tried focusing on the cube. The enormous size of the structure seemed to taunt and mock her, that if it were to crack even just the slightest bit, all of it could come crashing down. And the outer walls stretched for miles on end. If there was a curve she’d seen before getting so close to it, then it might as well not exist. Arches upon arches of windows led into a darkness that terrified her a little. There might be something at the end of it, or a void that might break the laws of reality. Whatever it was, hopefully, the cube wouldn’t lead her inside one of them.

A giant, looming doorway is where they stop at. She wasn’t the kind to think things through, so without further hesitation or thought, her hands pushed the stone doors open. They were lighter than she’d imagined, and they shook the ground, scraping on the floor with a low grumble as if the clouds were made of concrete as if they had just woken up.

The ground was more solid than the clouds outside, and the cube hummed louder, glowed a little brighter, illuminating the desolate halls she suddenly found herself in. 

The dark stain that covered every inch of the building outside blanketed the entire Colosseum. Arches of windows gave a wide view of an arena down below, and what looked like thousands of more cell doors in such a wide range that she could barely see across. And hovering above it all, chained to the pillars that held up the walls, was what seemed like a chunk of mountain. 

It seemed more so like a prison than paradise. 

The Abyss had told her that the pearl was on the top floor. Searching for a staircase, she walked, glancing at everything, and taking her time staring in awe. 

Because when has any other human ever seen the heavens? To use mere words to describe it would never be enough, all of it seemed so impossible. From the walls to the ground and the infinite floors, she didn’t hesitate to explore whatever piqued her interest. 

One of them was that the whole place is empty. 

Of course, that’s only an assumption, because she can’t tell what’s behind every cell door. But Dain had taught her common sense. Her master, however, would be opening every single one of them. 

It was an easy task getting up, but as infinite as the structure was. But if she had been under surveillance, she would have been smited long ago. But there’s no one here. 

If the Abyss hadn’t given her everything they’d known, she might have missed it. With their limited knowledge of the heavens, they could only guess what the door to the room looked like. Several mistakes were made. But that was to be expected. 

The right one was dark when she opened it, the light from the outside spilling in. But it’s enough to cast a glimpse of what it contained. 

Mirrors, portraits, broken desks, and chairs. All of it would have been rubbish to her brother. 

A clinking draws her attention into the dark.

“Who’s there?” She clutched the dagger in her hands. 

Some shrouded being appeared into what little light there was, old, weak. Pathetic. And it fearlessly approached her, hobbling forward. “Light, light!” It sounded like an old woman’s, croaking quietly like she hadn’t spoken for a hundred years. 

Asmoday sheathes the weapon, looking on in curiosity. 

“Oh, holy light of the Primordial! Blessed be thy messenger.” She grasped her hand, shaking it with gratitude. It’s bony, wrinkled, and so deathly cold. “Name, name!”

“Asmoday.” She spoke, slowly, cautiously. 

The woman tugs on her sleeves, leading her further into the darkness, further away from the door. “My hero, my fair maiden donned in honor and glory, I forget myself.” Picking up a locket, she shoves it into her hands. “A gift, you come and you shall be showered in gifts from the people.” 

She has no idea what’s happening but maybe it’s best if she played along. “People?”

“Humans, oh humans. You come from fairytales and earth.”

She blinked. “Uh-huh. Yes. We… do?” So many questions are springing into the back of her mind, most of them concerning the old woman in front of her. “I need something important.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you ask, you shall receive. Just name it.”

“I only know what it is, not what it’s called.” She glanced around the room, hoping to find it herself. “The Pearl of the Heavens.”

The woman’s face lights up at her request, not knowing the significance of what she just asked for. “Trinkets, precious trinkets.” Guiding her over to a pile in the corner full of glittering jewelry, she kneels down, digging through. 

Together, they sifted through the gold, the gems, the forgotten stones that no longer exist down in Teyvat. Every object she held and put away, she did so carefully for a power resonated inside each of them. They hummed with an energy that’s better left alone. 

“Who are you?”

“Who am I?” The woman laughed. “Oh, who am I? Who do I need to be? I am myself. I’m nothing.”

Trying not to linger on the baffling thing that just came out of her mouth, she pulled away a tangle of necklaces, then pushed off a few grails and mirrors.

The woman laughed gleefully, coming up with the pearl in her hands. She held it up to what little light streamed in from the door that was still open. Then she held it up to her. “Your hair is still the same color!”

She tried not to question how she found it so easily, and what she meant by that. As far as she knew, they’d never met before. “Thank you.” 

“Heroes, oh heroes who have passed by. Another name in the story, another name for eternity!” 

Somehow, this caught her attention. “Story?”

“Yes, yes!” The old woman gets up, again, tugging Asmoday along as she hurriedly stuffed the pearl inside her bag. “So magnificent, so wonderful-” She snatches a book off a shelf, flipping through the pages. 

“Bearer of truth! So special, very special!” 

Her name is written inside. 

“But you must know more, you must know everything! Everything!” 

The words struck her, more than it should have. “I know almost everything.”

“Almost, but not yourself. You know the world but not yourself!” The old woman dropped the book, and it fell open to a page, a list of names. 

There was hers, then her brother’s above it. 

His name is crossed out. 

Before she could ask, the old woman began pulling her out of the dark cellar, back into the hallway. Then almost comically, she pushed a finger to her lips, whispering that they needed to be quiet. 

She had no idea where the woman was taking her, but she didn’t seem dangerous, at least if the hag ever tried to do anything she could outrun her. Pulling her up the winding steps of the Colosseum, Azzy felt a small sense of deja vu. There was something familiar about her that she couldn’t place. 

“Who are you?”

“I am every moment that exists! I am madness…obsession!” 

She blinked. There’s not much to go on just based on that. Maybe somehow, the woman was a god, and she rifled through her memories, searching for any description that would match. Her appearance was that of a senior citizen that should have decayed in a coffin long ago. And following that thought would have been Marbus, chewing her out for being so disrespectful if she ever said that out loud. 

A loose, long cloak suggested something grander about her, but it’d long been torn, ragged. Strings of loosening fabric flowed and were on the verge of falling off, and embroidered onto it using starlight was a sundial.

She’s completely lost. Yet there was still that sense of familiarity she couldn’t brush away so easily. 

“I should know you.” The murmur came softly as if she were speaking to herself. 

“Yes- yes you should! You’ve felt me on your face before, on your lips when you speak! The Thousand Winds followed you to Sal Vindagynar, I ceased the storm at the top!” 

Her answer finally comes, remembering a single page from her notes. Marbus had hastily scribbled it down after coming back into the Abyss, telling her to memorize the short paragraph. In honor of someone who died trying to get it. 

“You are the moment,” 

she recited. 

“You are every moment, 

the measure of a thousand winds and the sun and the moon. 

Every second of joy, every moment of rage, 

every instant of longing, every minute of obsession.”

The shadow of the cloak fades from the god’s lips, and she saw how it turned into a smile. 

“You are every flash of delirium.” 

The woman bursts into giggles like the schoolchildren back home. Azzy didn’t know what to make of that, if at all. When she’d briefly studied her, Marbus had finally revealed that she was long gone from the world, and they’d moved on to something else. 

“You’re supposed to be buried.” 

“The Shades of Phanes may never die.” 

Her jaw drops.

“I am untouchable.” She pulls her along. “And I must take you to your father!”

“Father?” She didn’t have one, for as long as she could remember, the closest thing to a father was her brother. And even then, he could only do so much to fill in that gap. Even that word alone felt so foreign as if it didn’t belong on her lips, but on her neighbors’, on the children she played with back home. Maybe there was something she was missing from it, but she never felt the need for someone older, wiser. 

She wanted to ask what the woman meant, but the hag was already mumbling about something else.

 “...what the Abyss and no one can tell you. The truth of this world, this magnificent and terrible world.” Hanging onto her arms, the old woman almost seemed like a child excitedly rambling on about their day. “A lie there, a lie here, lies everywhere!”

“By that you mean…”

“The sky, the water, the air your homeland breathes! Lies, all made up by the heavens.” She gasps, almost comically as if she just realized something. “You, my dear, are a lie. You’ve deceived your brother, your poor master. Oh! The king… oh what will the king do? Oh no, my sweet.” Like a mother comforting a child, her old wrinkly hands brushed her face as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. 

For some reason, Asmoday doesn't smack her away, like she would have done if it were anyone else. Her brother would have done it though, then scolded her for being too trusting. 

“My, sweet, sweet child. Look at you poor thing. You don’t deserve it. How could you ever hurt anyone? They are cruel, cruel!” 

Uneasily, she takes a step back. Maybe she should go; she already had the pearl, and besides that, there was still something else that needed to be done, purely for her own personal desire. In her bag was a small glass vial, intricately blown and molded into a swirling wave-like design. 

She forced Marbus to pick it out back in Fontaine, much to his chagrin at having to do something so- in his words- useless. 

But bringing back a small drop of the ocean with her meant that she could hold it over his head for the rest of her life. It could prove that maybe she wasn’t as naive as everybody thought she was, that she wasn’t a child anymore. Despite still thinking it so, herself. She’d have stepped into Celestia and come back. And would her brother finally give up wanting to make her a knight? Would he be happy with her doing something else?

“Is the Ocean of the Heavens touchable?” 

The old woman doesn’t answer her, still rambling on as if her question was nothing but a whisper lost to the wind. 

"Vessel, you are but a vessel for the truth." The woman lunged, holding her face between her hands before she could stop her. "Dearest, loved by all, yet such a horrible fate awaits your family-"

“Do you know where the Ocean of the Heavens is?”

The woman pauses, turns, then from the torn fabric of her cloak, she pulls out a shining, glowing orb of light. Giggling as she held it up to her. “The ocean is right here- I plucked this out myself!” 

For a moment, Azzy’s left speechless once more. “Isn’t that someone’s constellation?”

“What harm is there to it?”

Lots. There were lots of things wrong with that. The woman had essentially pulled the fate of some unfortunate soul in Teyvat and was now keeping it hostage. She didn’t know what that entailed but it probably wasn’t good. 

“I’d like to touch the Ocean myself.” 

“It is up.”

“What?”

“Up. Above your father.” 

“Who is he?”

The woman turns around and continues pulling her up the staircase. She didn’t think there ever was an end to the number of steps there were, but as they ascended, the mountainous floating chunk of rock grew larger. It was a monumental thing that defied the laws of the land below, chained down as if it were about to burst. As if there must be something inside that vied, was clawing to get out, and had made enough cracks to warrant the amount of padlocks, runes, and spells to keep it controlled. 

The chains had grown so large by the time they neared the end. Big enough that both of them could walk on without any fear of slipping off. The cube hummed, vibrated more intensely as they carefully stepped onto the metal. It didn’t seem to be any of the kind she’d seen before. Instead, there was a faint aura of something divine around it, as if the chains themselves acted as a sedative for whatever might be inside. 

Still, as they crossed, that primal fear of heights crawled inside her. They’d climbed up so many steps that the arena she’d seen in the beginning had all but disappeared. And that if even the slightest mistake were made, she’d fall for who knows how long, with no one to catch her. Her brother wasn’t here. Neither was Marbus, Rhine, or Durin. If she fell… 

Would she pass right through the clouds? Or would it act as pavement? If she tumbled back down into the world, there was a chance that Marbus would see her, but then there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t turn into a molten ball of fire. Like he was. 

And he probably didn’t need that happening to her, especially with the pearl in her bag. 

Nervously, she gripped the woman’s hands tighter and they come upon a small crack that led into a dark and narrow passageway. It didn’t seem like it was supposed to be there, almost like it had been left behind from a previous attempt to escape. Moss and weeds had already begun growing and thrived around the opening. The woman climbed in, and she followed. 

The only light they had was the cube in her hands, floating and pulling them toward the directions they need to go in. It’d stopped vibrating the moment they got inside as if to say that this was the place where they need to be. 

She couldn’t understand it. The pearl was already in her bag. What then, was it leading her to? A passing thought came to her, that the cube might be sentient and had warmed up to the old woman, listening to her when she said that Azzy must go meet her father. 

Or maybe going through here was the only way to get to the Ocean. 

For a while, they remained silent, the woman had stopped rambling long ago as if the jagged, rocky walls of this prison had brought her peace. She walked through the maze of narrow corridors, leading her up and down, making turns that Azzy had given up trying to make sense of long ago. 

The passageway finally began to open up and as it did so, the woman bowed her head down, letting go of her hand after all this time, and clasping them together in some form of prayer. Respect, for whatever might lie at the end of this tunnel. 

And as they stepped out into the light, a picture of something incomprehensible lay scrawled out before her. 

Chains fell from the sky, strung from the sides, springing from the ground like rays of light that burst from every direction possible, pulling like puppets on a string. The sheer amount of it nearly obscured all sight of what they might possibly be containing. It was grotesque, and she found it drawing her to keep looking. To keep staring. That doing so was a sin in and of itself, that the chains themselves were alive, waiting hungrily to condemn her to the same fate as whatever was in the middle of it all. 

Her father. Apparently. 

She stepped forward. 

The woman stopped her, and with a hand, pointed at the ground. 

Various runes and carvings of scriptures and spells were engraved into the stone, glowing with every color that existed and more. Floored with ores of every kind imaginable, some that she recognized had disappeared from the world altogether. Every single step she took would be a trap, and setting that off would probably trigger another. 

Behind all those chains and runes, the old woman got down on her knees, kneeling and muttering something that sounded like a prayer, then, got up and took off her cloak. 

It’s as if a veil of her disguise had fallen away when she slipped it off. 

Gone were the wrinkles on her face, her hands, her height had suddenly grown to be taller, and the rags she wore gave way to blue robes woven from starlight. Dyed a dark abyssal blue, gold embroidering sundials and numbers of time across her dress. Scriptures and holy texts glowed gold from her grey skin as if she were the words themselves, crawling up her arms, collarbone, up her neck in swirls. Tattoos dripping runes from her eyes like teardrops, it scrawled out what Azzy recognized must be a prayer specific to her. Adorned with so much gold and blue, her eyes held no pupils, only a white of something divine, the same color as her hair, pulled up into complicated knots, twists and turns, almost as much as the chains, kept together by a large golden sundial at the top. 

Her abyssal lips smiled with all the warmth of a god her people never knew. With all the love of one that they’d run from. 

“Your father is waiting for you.”  

Her voice had changed from that of a croaking old hag’s to a perfectly mellow tone that echoed all around inside her head, regal and sophisticated. That nothing would ever slip her notice and that demanded worship from all those who knew of her. 

Azzy stared, gaping, her mind going in a million different directions. Her knees moved, and she was about to kneel down when the god stopped her. 

Istaroth throws the cloak around her shoulders, gently tying the strings to keep it in place as if the very act itself would shield her from anything that might come. Almost like her brother would do back home. 

“Messiah of Phanes, messenger from Pistis Sophia, of the Thirteenth Aeon, Daughter of our Primordial Mother.” The god turned her towards the sea of chains and runes. “Step forth without a falter in your step. Under my shadow and guise, you are the Moment.” 

Her foot activates a stone tile and an explosion of fire nearly takes out her hearing. Her ears ring, and she stumbled back into the god, heart pounding. The searing heat singes her skin and for a moment, she’s left breathless. 

But unharmed. 

“You will never be caught.” 

With hands trembling from the shock, her feet move on their own again, stepping back onto the tiled floor. Then taking another. In an instant, the sky hailed arrows, falling in waves around her and triggering every other trap that surrounded the chains. Fire of every kind, bolts of lightning and sheets of icicles all fired at her, like a minefield of every trap known and unknown in the world below. Runic spells of imprisonment burst from every direction, and a thousand different fogs and mists spilled into the cavern, seeking to blind, to deafen, to suffocate. 

Through all of that, she remained unscathed, everything inside missing her completely. She pushed through chains, weaving and ducking under the metal like a spider in its own web. Underneath her feet, claws of hands and jagged teeth sought to keep her in place. They missed entirely, even as she stepped right inside of them. 

It was a terrifying, exhilarating feeling. It came with shock, the horror that she should have been blown into a million different pieces by now, but it came with a glimpse of some other, divine power that made her feel invincible. The same feeling she had when the king touched her hand. That there was something more for her to possess and control. 

Her father was just like how Marbus described Phanes to her from memory. From what he was told in the Abyss, reciting another part of the book that the person had died for.

“...It had wings and a crown…” 

Pulsating rings of gold rotated in every direction, hovering around a singular white light-the crown- a mass of ten wings, five on each side. All of it gored, locked down, speared and impaled to keep him down. 

Or it. 

She didn’t know. 

Stopping before him, she stood, staring at the thing that supposedly, should have made her. And once more, she tried to get on her knees for him, wondering if she was doing it right. The people worshipped no god, but from what she’s read, this had to be something she needed to do first before speaking. 

Her father spoke, if anyone could even call it speaking. 

The sound of a thousand chimes and human voices all collided and shattered in a blur of glass, echoing throughout the entire cavern. A beastly, inhuman sound that belonged to no world or any earthly being. One moment it was the rushing winds of the skies, the other, a torrent of whirlpools, a choir, gongs, screams of misfortune and delight. Her father speaks in all these things and more. But she understood. 

“No daughter of mine shall kneel.”

Azzy stood before him without an ounce of fear, feeling something warm rising in her chest. As if her heart was being clothed with gold and light. “Father?”

“Repeat to me that which has been engraved into your soul, carved into your bones, burned into your heart.” 

A faint, emanating glow caught her attention and she looked down. 

The same scriptures that made Istaroth were now lighting up all over her skin, crawling up her arms and neck, up her face. Words of a divine god printed itself on her skin as if she’d been washed to reveal the runes underneath. Flashes of code pulsed across her vision, flickering until it became clear enough to read. 

“And with me They made a compact;

In my heart wrote it, not to forget it:

 

“If you go down into the Abyss, 

And thence you bring the one Pearl

 

That lies in the Sea,

Hard by the Loud-breathing Serpent

 

Shalt Thou put on thy Robe

And thy Mantle that goeth upon it,

 

“And with thy Brother, Our Second, 

Shall thou be Heir in our Kingdom” 

“And when you’ve lost your way…”

“And for me they wrote out a Letter; 

And to it each Noble his Name set:

 

“From Us- King Kings, thy Father, 

And thy Mother, Queen of the Dawn-land,

 

“And from Our Second, thy Brother-

To thee, Daughter, down in Abyss, Our Greeting!

 

“Up an arise from thy misfortune,

Give ear to the words of Our Letter!

“Remember that thou art a King’s daughter;

See whom thou hast served in thy slaves

 

Bethink thyself of the Pearl

For which thou didst journey to Abyss.

 

“Remember thy Glorious Robe, 

Thy Splendid Mantle remember, 

 

“To put on and wear as adornment, 

When thy Name may be read in the Book of the Heroes, 

 

“And with Our Successor, thy Brother, 

Thou may be Heir in Our Kingdom.” 

She could hardly breathe, revelation upon revelation hitting her without reprieve. The truth of the world, she knew. She knew too well, even if there were some things that still remained hidden. But herself? 

For the longest time, there was no mother, there was no father, nothing of that sort, no one for her except for her brother. Her brother, who was still waiting at home, unaware of who he truly is. Unaware that he’d fallen from the sky after her, oblivious to the fact that he’d plummeted from beyond. 

He was her Letter. Sent by their mother first and then the god before her. He, a reminder of the duty she’d failed to complete all those years ago. He, with another code engraved into his soul, one that filled him to the brim with only a single faulty trait. 

Loyalty. 

And from that stemmed everything that made him who he is, everything he’d done for her suddenly made sense. Why he kept her inside, why he’d begun to fade the more he leaned into that side of him, the ruthlessness with which he killed, and she knew. 

She knew a long time ago exactly what he did. It’s as if her own mind had shielded her from it, made her turn away from all the bodies her bother left behind in the streets. Turned her towards the path of the pearl, towards fulfilling her one and only task. 

They were made from the hands of something much, much farther than a god here in Teyvat could comprehend. Istaroth’s voice comes back to her before she stepped into the minefield of traps. 

“Messiah of Phanes, messenger from Pistis Sophia, of the Thirteenth Aeon, Daughter of our Primordial Mother.” 

Her father, trapped after a pantheon of false gods descended upon their world longer than most of the recent gods knew. Cast down and bound by the holy chains of thousands of divine people that never should have come. A war that sunk the people of her father; her people, into the depths of the world. Replacing the true skies with something false, wrangling the fates of all who lived, and tossing them all into the Ocean of the Heavens so that the gods could keep an eye on them for all eternity. Numerous endeavors by her people to find the truth, beginnings of attempts at opposition. 

Then getting smited before they could ever stand a chance. 

The Nameless, Enkanomiya, Sal Vindagynar and their princess. All of them struck down the moment a sound of truth came from their lips. Whether by Celestial Nail or lines of cubes, all of them met an end that they never deserved. 

To say that it infuriated her was an understatement. But to oppose all the gods, in their home territory now, was unthinkable. She doubted there was any chance she could pull a single chain out of his wings, all of this should have melted her from the inside out, this amount of knowledge in a single person would have killed anyone else already. Anyone who wasn’t a descendant of Phanes. All her people were. And she and her brother, came from the Primordial Mother herself, existing in chaos, waiting for salvation and yet sending them both to answer the pleas of a god. 

All of this could end. It could end with a single pearl, the one she has in her bag. She didn’t know if it would free him, but it might be a vessel to spread the truth with, and a nation’s wavering faith could topple any archon from their throne. 

Would it be enough to break his chains?

She pulled it out, holding it up to him. She’d essentially been sent in a single giant loop. Coming down from the heavens to find the pearl, being sent back up by the Abyss for the same reason. But it was well worth it in the end if it meant her father could be freed. 

The cavern filled with a deathly, ghostly silence as Phanes looked at it, the small thing about the size of her hand. Nothing moved, from behind her, Istaroth waited for her lord’s judgment. 

“You have brought back a lie.” 

Asmoday blinked, holding it closer. Her father had no eyes, but that light must act as one right? Unless he could smell if something was fake. In which case, he must be wrong. He had to be. 

“You have brought back a lie.” 

“This was what you were searching for, this was what everybody was looking for.” 

“You have brought back a lie” 

She whirled back around to Istaroth, still standing all the way on the other side. The god only gave a look of confusion. “My lord, that is the pearl you’ve asked for.”

“You have brought back a lie. The only minds it will spread to are that of my people. No one else.” 

How much time had she spent away from home? Years, decades maybe, all of it down the drain the moment her father spoke. And from the pits of her chest grew a dawning realization that sunk her breath to the Abyss below. 

She’d failed. 

How many years had it taken her to travel through the lands, how many years until she got to fulfill her duties? How much more time and how much more distance would be put between her and her brother? She’d failed, and there was no explanation why. Why the one she brought was a decoy, why Istaroth is just as lost as she is. Why her. Why she had to be made for a singular task that she couldn’t even complete. 

If a god could sense disappointment from something as small as her, he did it. He spoke again, chimes of glass and choir echoing, comforting. Consoling. 

“Climb these chains, touch the waters.” 

Shock crosses her face before she can stop it. “How did you-” 

“I am your Holy Father. You are my daughter. You are my only daughter.” 

Azzy climbed the chains that shackled him down. It was easy enough, the training that Marbus had put her through was more grueling than this. The vial was still in her bag, and as she neared the top, a hue of blue illuminated her face. Closer were the stars that Istaroth had plucked and showed her. But she would not bring a star back to show off. She would bring the waters as proof that she’d made it that far. 

With one hand holding the chain, she used the other to reach up and touch it. The ocean, right above her head, right at her fingertips, containing the fate of all the people in the world. It was a cool, comforting feeling, like none other that she’d ever known, none that could ever be recreated should she go back down. Splashing it around, a few dropped onto her face, staining her skin with blue and starlight. She tried the other hand and it did the same. 

She scooped up some of the water into the vial, watching it glow as it jostled inside. Probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon, prettier than Rhine’s dresses, prettier than all the sights she’d seen in Teyvat. 

Stuffing it in her bag, she climbed back down, sliding off the chain. 

Asmoday met her father once more, satisfied, with all her worries dissipated. He was not angry, he was not disappointed. Rather, he was as any father would be on the street she lived on. Kind, understanding, ready to embrace and protect. Was this what she had been missing all along? 

“You are home.” Father was only happy that she’d come back to him. Safe, and unharmed save for a few scratches and scars on the way here. “You are home.” She could stay, she could be safe here, where nothing and no one could hurt her. All she’d been doing this entire time was run, running from things, from people, from gods. Running for a purpose that the Abyss gave her, running for her brother and Rhine, and the king. 

Not here. 

He doesn’t ask for more. 

She was home. 

“Home.”

An ache remained in her chest. If not for that single worry, she would have been completely satisfied and intent on staying here with her father forever. But that little part of her remained beating and upset. Remained uncompromising. She would not be happy here, at least not yet. There was still someone missing. 

“I need to go back.” 

Silence. 

“Home is where my brother is. Home is not here.” 

More silence. She wondered if that facade of a father would fall away in the next instant. There was no forgetting that her father was a god and that divinity makes a habit of being indifferent. 

“Would you let me go?”

Her father's wings ruffled, shook, pinned beneath spears and swords and every godly weapon known. All the chains rattled inside the cavern as a drizzle of white feathers rained down upon her, falling to the ground at her feet as if to cover her once more. 

“Bring your brother home.” 

A thousand bells and gongs rang for her, holy choirs of angels and Abyssal demons rising in her ears as every godly thing strummed, plucked, and blew wind into horns and pipes. Languages that existed through the entirety of their world, gone and forgotten, rose from the air and sung. Chimes and beastly things collided and crashed, producing a chaos of sound that echoed into an infinity beyond human ears. 

A farewell. 

And it only grew in volume. But a creeping sense of urgency clawed at its edges. 

Back across the minefield she walked, leaving her father behind, the traps laid out for anyone that dared to approach him had all either been triggered or were drowned in eternal sound. 

Istaroth, at the edges of the floor, received her and Asmoday slipped the cloak off her shoulders, giving it back. 

“Your father will hold off the god.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

A crash of something came from high above the ceiling. The volume of the cavern increased to meet it. A glowing white light emanated from above, but before she could look at it closer, Istaroth squeezed her hand. “We must leave.” 

Back down the dark passageway, they went, her heart separating and pulling in two different directions. She wanted to stay with her father. But she needed to run once more, She needed Dainsleif. They rushed through the halls, Azzy could hardly keep up, but as they went, the god fell back into that of an old hag. The same as when they’d first met. 

Still, the woman raced just as fast, leaping over fallen rock and making turns so sudden, their hands nearly broke from each other. But the way back seemed faster than it was coming here, and when they reached the chain-like path, she was confident they’d put enough distance between them. 

What greeted her was another roaring of sound, banging on the metal doors of all the thousands of cells and bars that made the very walls of the Colosseum. Voices of humans now, and nothing more. All of them, chanting, shouting for her, over and over, repeating mantras. 

“Messiah-”

“Messenger-”

The Daughter has returned. The star from the skies. Savior. It all rose into a singular thrum, a hymn of voices, and from each door lit the color of all the seven elements that reigned in the world below, pulsing with each beat to the scattered rhythm of their screams. 

Back down the stairs they went, farther away from her father’s prison, racing past the doors. It was only halfway down when she realized what those colors meant, what was behind every single cell in this entire Colosseum. 

Allogenes, vision bearers. Those deemed worthy enough to ascend to Celestia to become gods. 

Lies. All of it lies. Imprisonment was what waited for them here, that, and maybe some sick game when she remembered to look at the arena down below. Whatever it was, she understood why they chanted for her when she emerged. Her homeland and Teyvat weren’t the only ones that depended on her to succeed, It wasn’t only the burden of her father and of the Abyss that she shoulders. 

But the souls of dead gods, of people too ambitious for their own good. Her thoughts flashed to Rhine, wondering, worrying if she might end up in another one of these cells when she passed. And what worse fate awaited Dain if she were to fail? Being a star alongside her, another pawn sent with the purpose of toppling the thrones that ruled their world? 

Istaroth pulled her outside, back out of the Colosseum, back out into the clouds. The white clouds that she’d stepped upon first arriving, now turned blood red as if her very presence had angered the Second Who Came. Clutching her bag tighter, they raced out into the open; there was no other choice. The golden cube flickered red and gold in the palm of her hands. To the edges of heaven, they ran and behind her came the thunderous thud of something unholy landing there. 

Asmoday stole a quick glance. 

A flash of light. 

The swing of a hand. 

Azzy’s thrown forward as the old god is snatched and pulled back, and within a breath and a blink everything that was Istaroth had disintegrated into thin air. The light molded, formed, trying to take on the shape of something comprehensible to her. Dozens of wispy hands made of cubes lunged for her, crashing into the clouds next to her feet. 

She continued to run with her heart in her mouth, praying that the gold cube in her hand would open an exit back down below. But with the way it was flickering between two colors, it seemed as if the thing was changing its will back to that of the false gods’, finally staying a crimson red. 

Her legs carried her faster than she’d ever run before, to the edge of Celestia. But once she got there, what then? Her mind scrambled to come up with something, but her breaths were too ragged, and the god that was giving pursuit couldn’t allow a single moment of thought to process for her. All she could do was run. 

With a single swing of a hand, she caught a glimpse of something sharp, cleaving down into the clouds. The ground split, cracking and shaking her off her feet until the sheer force of it knocks her to the edges of Celestia. 

The god slowed as if it knew it had won. Azzy backed closer, the rushing wind of the world below nearly taking off the bag she’d slung over her shoulders. The light continued to shift, molding into too many different things all at once, into objects, people, animals as if everything was vying to burst out from the light. To be understood. 

It didn’t speak. But hands reached out slowly, open-palmed, asking, warning her to give back what she took from them. She inhaled, steeling herself to face the god’s anger, looking down at the world once more. 

Home was down there. Her brother was waiting. 

And with no hope of surviving, she jumped. 

Chapter Text

Like sunlight, she moved through the halls of the palace; in broad, ignorant view. She could slip anywhere unnoticed whenever the sun beat down on all of Khaenri’ah, unlike Dainsleif, who moved within the shadows and moon. On a brisk pace towards the warehouse constructing all the machinery, she’s greenlit, an unusual whirl of uneasiness followed her. 

Her palace lab stood in between them, a large room that held at least ten lab tables with more room to spare for any clunky equipment they might need. When she opened the door, several of her students were tinkering away at a prototype. A week ago they’d come knocking at her door in the middle of the night to dump a new idea on her and seeing it built now, looked promising. The rest of them were either working on some blueprints, blowing something up or arguing over an equation. 

It seemed like there was almost never any rest inside. The room’s almost never empty at any given point. 

“Master Rhinedottir! The new wolfpup is learning how to sit-”

“Keep track of it’s neural pathways-”

“Master, we’ll need a few more-”

“Permission granted.”

“The graph-”

She flipped through the pages. Then, handed the clipboard back. “You switched the x and the y.” 

They crowded around her the moment she opened the door, coming back with more questions than the last. Sometimes she wished she had a double to take on these tasks, but that would mean she’d soon be competing against herself; and even she knew the danger that posed. 

Her patience was running thin, but still, she kept that tight smile on her face. It’s a habit of course and one that came to and helped her exceedingly well. 

Crossing the large room to the back, she turned with her hand on the doorknob, suddenly remembering something. 

“Finish your prototypes in an hour and have new blueprints on my desk by midnight.” She glanced at a few of her students. “You, you and you, add the new chemical into the starlight. Make something sweet.”

“But we haven’t tested it-”

“Give the hounds a break. I’ll be the test subject.” She shuts the door. 

The fake smile lingers on her face a moment longer, just in case one of them burst through with another question. They don’t. Her facade melts away and she slips off her hood.

The warehouse-turned-factory stretched for as far as the eye could see, rustic and stained yellow from starlight. Her walk slowed, head tilted up to gaze at all of the machinery on either side of her. More lines of them hung parallel and down further than she could run across in a day. 

All of them, her’s. Sectioned off by type and category, with large containers for ones that didn’t work so they could be torn down and recycled for something new. None of them were what she was looking for. 

She finds Asmoday’s hung between two, larger ones. It’d taken a long time for the metal they needed to come in and by the time they did, she’d already left. Only the structure was barely finished, the skeleton of it sticking out like a sore thumb among its more polished and finished counterparts. 

Rhinedottir climbs up the tiny, grated staircase. An ache swelled up the more she ascended, like how skin burned if one flew too close to the sun. With a final clink of her heels on the treads, she steps onto the small walkway and sits down. The top of the head was finished, large enough for her to lean against. Some of that pain turns into a throbbing, like a second heartbeat. It’s hard to breathe, suddenly, but she knows well that it’s not from the fumes inside. 

Both siblings had managed to weasel their way into her heart, moving past all those locks and safes she hadn’t even known were there. And how could she ever let them? How did it even happen? She didn’t even know when it all began. In the marketplace? In the palace? No matter what she thought of them before, perhaps how annoying Dainsleif had been, how childlike Azzy was, things are different. 

And in the depths of her mind, past all of her manipulation, murders, and atrocious experiments, cutting down her machine-like, almost sadistic nature… she loved them. 

She loved how Asmoday would smile every time she’d come running up her hill. The way her hair bounced like a dress. How bright she was, the happiness and childlike wonder that would overflow every time she spotted something colorful or complex. She truly could turn anything soft. There’d been something maternal that bloomed and grew each time she visited. She loved her. 

She loved how Dainsleif looked at her like she was the sun, how easy he was to tease and annoy. What he stood for, how he moved under the cover of moonlight and killed without a hint of remorse. His eyes, which held the depth of oceans that brought empires into the seabed. The stoicness he continued to show her, yet the desperation of some ravenous animal hidden within him. And when they saw each other for the first time amid horrified crowds and a couple of dead bodies, she remembered thinking how terrifyingly beautiful he looked. 

And how she could make him worse. 

There’s a bitter taste in her mouth when she remembers what she’d thought. A drink would be nice, but she didn’t want to get up and walk all the way down to the marketplace to grab something. Rhinedottir had him now, but he’d turned soft to her. 

A strange thing crossed her mind when they danced; she wanted him to be obsessed in a way that made him angry. To be so annoyingly arrogant and obnoxious, to become someone he couldn’t stand to see win, all so she could watch him lose it. To snap on something or someone. Instead, what she’d gotten out of that night were feelings for him and finding that she was on his mind 24/7 for all the wrong reasons, even if he didn’t know it yet. 

How infuriating…  

He was a fool who didn’t even know he was in love. It's even more maddening that she couldn’t resist his adamant denial and that kicked-puppy look whenever she teased him, as if he wanted to protect his heart from her, but ultimately failed. As if he thought she wasn’t taking either of them seriously because it never was supposed to be in the first place. 

She huffed out a sigh of frustration, banging her fist into the metal grate. The echo of it did little to satisfy her. 

“Contemplating?” 

Dainsleif stands amid her creations, looking up at her. 

She wanted to get up and walk away. “What is it?” 

“I’m here to take you down to the dungeons.” 

“Finally cuffing me?”

“What? No-”

“What did she tell you after I left?”

For a moment, there was a silence in which he used to collect his thoughts. Rhinedottir just wished he could hurry up. Her patience was wearing thin, even for him, for some baffling reason. 

“She told me a lot.”

“We have all the time in the world.” 

He falls quiet. Then, in a voice that barely reached her, he spoke. “I’m a god.” 

“So?” Her bitterness almost grew. “Don’t expect me to bow down and worship you.”

“I would never.” 

And yet she would. She already had. And he’d already done that, kissed her hand and more. Her gaze fell down on him, and he just kept… looking up at her with that same horrible softness in his eyes. A reminder that to him, this was anything but a game and maybe the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

She loathed herself for starting it in the first place. Her expression drops from the hardened one and she turns her head away. There’s the loud echo of his steel boots hitting the grates to her. She hated how her heart pounded with each step. As if a part of her couldn’t wait for him to get there. It was so sure, steady and calm. There was always something about him that stood like a mountain against a storm. 

His armor clanked and landed on the metal treads with a loud bang as he knelt down. He murmurs her name as if it was sacred. “Rhinedottir.”  The ringlets of his hand pull her own up to his lips and he presses another kiss. “This changes nothing.” 

Her jaw clenched, and she hid her sour face behind the golden locks of her hair. 

“Would you look at me?” 

She doesn’t. 

“If it is power you wish for, you have a god kneeling in front of you, this very moment.”

Her eyes can’t meet his. “I was using you.” She spat it out with poison, like a snake that’d been cornered. 

Instead of reeling back, instead of anything other than a smile, he sighs. “I always got that feeling.” 

“You expected that?”

“Anyone would…” He trailed off, knowing that must sound bad. “I mean, I don’t think I cared that much if it held true.” 

She bit her tongue, another habit whenever she had to deal with anything unpleasant. “Hound,” she retorted with an air of mockery. 

To her surprise, he laughed a little. It was a deep, smooth sound and so irritatingly elegant; had Dainsleif been a noble, he’d fit right in. If only she could hear it more. 

“You’re shifting your loyalties to the wrong person.” 

There’s hesitation on his lips as if he was about to say something but then paused to try to make sense of it. With his hands still warm over hers, she waited patiently. The view of him was always quite nice, he had a pretty face. Fitting, she supposed, having been crafted by the gods themselves. The irony of it all felt like a cruel joke.

“She told me that,” he says, taking a deep breath. “When my father made me- us, he did so with a purpose and engraved that into our very being. Once we’ve ascended- or once we go back, we can read it on our skin.” 

She did a double take on his face. 

“It’s all over us.” She lifted a brow and tilted his head back to see if there was anything on him. Nothing. Except for the pink that’s reddening his cheeks. He coughed a little. 

“Elaborate.”

“My sister’s purpose was to find the pearl and bring it back to our father.” And his voice lowered as if everything was finally falling into place. “It makes sense, all of it, everything she’s ever done. It’s why she wanted to go outside so much, and every time she ran off, further than I let her. Sometimes in the middle of the night- and she’s quick too.” His hand tightened a little, flashes of guilt crossing his eyes. “None of that was her fault.”

Rhinedottir thought back to every instance of her, half reminiscing. Half looking at it with this new perspective. She never discouraged her or scolded her like Dainsleif did, it’d been his duty, not hers. But the desire that Asmoday had to be something, to be known, to go somewhere… she never wanted to stop for anyone. 

And now she’s in Celestia, most likely on a suicide mission. Neither Rhine nor Dain talked about it, as if they’d been stuck in denial for the longest time. Maybe they still were. 

“Both of you have been coded,” she says. 

“If you put it like that, then yes.”

“And your sister, at her very core, is freedom itself.” Finally, she meets his eyes, stripped of her bitterness to tell him the truth. “She told me once how you kept her inside, up until every Khaenri’ahn child was required to go to school. All those years, locked up inside your home… she was a caged bird. How do you justify it?”

Shame laced his voice. “I was protecting her. But that was no excuse. Maybe I should have listened earlier before she’d left.” His eyes closed, guilt crossing his face. “I should have done many things; taken her outside the gates, encouraged her. Danced. Strung flowers instead of swung swords. Maybe I should have stayed awake a little longer. Wrapped her in blankets whenever she got scared of a thunderstorm. She’s the only family I have.”

Rhinedottir bit her bottom lip, listening to his regrets and in a corner of her heart, she was glad she didn’t have any family left. All that extra weight he’s shouldering would just be another burden on her. “Did you at least tell her you loved her?”

His jaw clenched. “No. Not once.”

“She hears it coming from the mouths of the children she plays with but never you.” 

“I know.” His expression drops even more. 

“I can justify it for you.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s not right.”

“We’ve both done horrible things, that’s an argument neither of us can make.” He falls silent once more, and she spoke again. “You had no choice in the matter.” 

“I should have-”

“There was a faulty code. If I’m right, then yours is some godly loyalty that transcends any of a normal human here in this world. Somehow when your father made you there was a mistake. And here you are.” 

“They’re gods, how can they make a mistake? Least of all for something as important as this.” 

“You’re a god, and you’ve made plenty.”

“That’s different.”

Her mind turned for a moment, and she cast her gaze back down into the machinery hanging inside the warehouse. Then towards the door back to the lab, where all her students were still working. If he agreed to it, she might be able to run some tests on him to try to figure out what’s wrong. 

“What else did Irminsul tell you?”

His voice is steadier, almost like he’s relieved at the topic change. “The gods are trying to decide what to do with us.” 

The implication of that hung heavy over them. It wasn’t so much as a decision on whether or not Khaenri’ah should continue to thrive. It was only a matter of when it would come. Judgment was inevitable. 

“Does anyone else know?”

“The Mad King, the one we need to speak to down in the dungeons. Their Majesties are growing wary of it, and so is their council.”

“Including us now?”

“It might be brought up next time we meet, but if there’s something you want to do about it, your words hold the most sway over them.” 

That was only partially true. There were still people at the table who opposed her, some she managed to convince to either resign or to side with her. Then there are the others who went against her from the moment she stepped foot in the palace. 

“What do you think?” he asked. 

“Can’t you think for yourself?”

“I can’t make up my mind about it. The King warned me a long time ago not to get too close to you, if he ordered me to cut your head off right now I don’t know if my hands would be my own.”

She nodded, staring at him as he finally managed to figure this out for himself. 

“You knew?”

“We were colleagues first before anything else. I know how you work, and I’ve seen you. Especially with a particular hitlist.” 

His eyes widened in disbelief, but also with the hope that she wasn’t talking about what he was thinking. 

“You were… busy. The truth is I’ve already seen you another time in that same alleyway and when Irminsul took us back, you, as a whole, fell into place. After you joined the Guard, something inside of you must have turned on- the coding. You were sent right back to where you started and you killed them all, didn’t you? Your friends, if you called them that. On the King’s order, I saw you execute them all in the dead of night. I was there.” 

Every word he might have used to try to excuse himself had left. He’s a blank canvas, looking at her in shame, guilt, speechless. 

“Your sister saw it too and you know that. I remember her running from you, then, I’m going to assume that she woke up with no memory of it.” It’s just how Asmoday had always been, whenever Rhine asked anything about her past, she’d always reply with an ‘I don’t know’ or ‘My brother never tells me.’ And the longer she thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more genuine it sounded. “She was coded to forget.” 

They were motionless for a while, both of them stunned at all the things that just came from her mouth. Neither of them had expected her to read him to filth and there was a certain shock that stood like an unbreakable pillar inside of her. He was easy to know, beneath that cold and stoic front, and she couldn’t figure out if he knew that his emotions came in the way he spoke. 

“Does that change anything?” He held a hint of desperation. 

“I want to figure out what happens if your coding is pulled in two different directions. I have to ask, if it came down to it, would you choose the King, or me?”

His breath caught, still reeling from everything she said. “And how would you do that?”

She bit her bottom lip, thinking for a moment. Already, her mind was spinning with a thousand different possibilities, she could do so many things, and most of them would involve breaking even more divine laws. “I’d make you worse.” 

“Are you really going to stuff me into a test tube?”

“That’s an idea.”

“Please don’t.” 

The conversation of that one night when they had to return the prince back home returns to her. “Remember our chat when His Little Highness escaped?” It’d been such a long time ago. 

“Why?”

“It was a joke before, I hadn’t considered seriously altering and turning you into something else. But now I think we might need to. Whatever animal you pick, I’ll mold you into that and amplify the coding as much as possible.”

“You’re going to do that just so you could-”

“Yes. And I’m also going to present you to the King. It’s as you said, I hold sway over most of the council members and that of the people as well. If the alterations I make are successful, he’ll rule in favor of me over the others.”

She saw his jaw clench, trying to process it. Everything she’s saying right now is already throwing that coding into a mess, like a glitch he’s trying to fix but doing that is seemingly impossible. “I don’t understand.” He looked to her for help, wanting to untangle the mess of what she wanted, to figure out what that meant if there was any that made sense at all. 

“I want war with the gods.” 

Another silence. It seemed like there was an abundance of it. 

“I want their Majesties to approve of it, to declare it for all of us, to give me permission to change you.” She can’t help but feel a strange ecstasy if it worked for her. “I want the King’s Hound for myself.” 

She saw him hesitate, as he always does whenever it came to her. But this time there was conflict in his eyes, and she could tell that even he didn’t know if he wanted this. But he swore it to her. 

“I want to make you mine. At least for a little while.” 

“When I pictured you saying this to me for the first time, this wasn't what I had in mind.” 

“You considered me saying that?” 

“That’s not the point.” He looked exasperated and a bit flustered. “What are you going to do with me?”

Just those words were enough to set something akin to a spark inside of her. Euphoria rose in her chest, thinking of all the possibilities. “Make you do anything I ask… by then, would you trust me enough?” 

He didn’t need to say anything for her to know that she already had him wrapped around her pretty little finger. And that he could never say no. “There has to be another way we could do this. We don’t have to fight them. We don’t have to point our swords towards the skies.”

“But we do.”

“We don’t.” 

“Maybe you’d understand if you knew what I and your sister do.”

“I have a duty to protect our people, and going to war with heaven itself directly contradicts that. Everyone here would be put in danger, there are consequences that-”

“Everyone here already are. Purely because of where they come from.” She brushed her thumbs under his eyes. They must contain the waters of this world itself. “There’s no other choice but to fight.”

“The people could run-”

“And where would they run to? What nation above would act as their refuge once they see our eyes? We’re marked, anyone who picked up a single book in school would understand we’re Khaenri’ahn from the stars in our eyes. They’d know we’re all heretics, that we don’t belong in the lands ruled over by The Seven.” 

“There is no need to fight them, there must be another way.” His breath fell heavy over her face, and for once, he didn’t get flustered at how close they were. “If I could just understand the entire picture, if someone could just tell me everything without concealing anything, I can figure something out-”

“I’ve looked at it from almost every angle, there’s no other way but to fight them. There’s no other solution, the gods won’t accept a truce unless we bend our knees, all the nobles and I would rather burn than do that-”

“-Would you tell me then? Everyone’s hiding things from me, either because it’s not my place or I wouldn’t understand- the King, Irminsul, that Lector, my own sister . No one is telling me anything.”

“Because you don’t listen.”

His jaw clenches and he inhales deeply, trying to regain his composure. “Then let me try now. Let me at least try, because I don’t know anything.”

She doesn’t even know where to start, of course he wouldn’t know. By all means, he wasn’t human in the sense of what he’s made of- some divine power no one could hope to study. The faulty code drew out some pity from her heart, if there ever was one. He always brought that feeling whenever he looked at her with those wretched, beautiful eyes and in some part of her, she wanted to take it out. She wanted to make him better, not just what better would mean to her, but to him. But all of these complicated emotions weren’t something he could understand. 

Because he was never meant for that purpose. He was made to fight. 

And she realized with the bitter sting of thorns, that it’s all he’ll ever be. A tool to be used, for war and peace, his sister’s weapon and shield. A product of a father that he’ll never know to make sure that some strange prophecy or cycle comes to fruition and that somehow along the way, his programming got tangled and now it’s just messed up. 

He’s just as messed up as she was. 

“You’re coming apart. You were never meant to swear your loyalty to me, to the prince, to Their Majesties. Not even to the people. All of who you are belongs to your sister because you were made that way.” She could see his fists clenching. “We will go to the Mad King. You will have your answers there.”

“I want my answers from you.”

“I could twist the truth and you’d never know it.”

“You won’t. At least give me something.” 

“You beg for something that could be lies. That’s all that ever comes out of me after all.”

“You can say anything and I’d believe you.”

She blinked, almost in disbelief. “Do you not hear the words that are coming out of your mouth? Have you lost your mind?” 

He thought for a moment, drawing back only slightly. “I always seem to, around you.” 

And she lingered around the idea that maybe they should have never met. That maybe, her turning toward the marketplace that day had thrown a wrench into fate itself. She’d messed with something far greater than anyone knew because from the moment she saw him, it was a string of coincidences and some magnetic luck that brought them crashing into each other. He was never supposed to see her. He was not her’s to keep. 

Yet she so selfishly wanted him and it was far too late to turn back anyway. 

An amused smile grew on her lips. “What a fool.” 

. . .

Like a fool, he’d laced his hand around hers when they descended down the steps to the dungeons. Night falls through the windows like streamers and a chilling cold haunted the halls of the palace. It was quieter, save for the clinking and shuffling of papers behind closed doors for the people working overtime. 

The ghostly figure of Irminsul joined them, looking like an essence of the moon itself, her wispy dress drifting above the floor. Rhine was never one to be envious of anyone but she had to fight the urge to reach out to bush the fabric of the dress. To know what kind of material it was made from so she could make one for herself. 

And Asmoday, when- if- she ever comes back. 

The woman floated down the worn stone steps further into the darkness ahead of them, being their only source of light. She glowed with a divine aura, alluding to a time before even Phanes himself. Against the dark contrast of their surroundings, it only served to tell them that this was the last place she should be. The only reason why she’s even able to appear to them here in the first place was because Dainsleif had snapped a branch off the tree and brought it along with them. 

Down they went, further, deeper into the very bowels of the palace, the walls began to close in, a suffocating barrier that served to spike her paranoia. It was damp, with the occasional dripping of water. The only things she could hear were their breaths and steps. 

Irminsul stops at a door of no significance. It was like any other, plain and made of steel with no windows, not even a barred one. Whoever got thrown into a cell like this was not meant to see the light of day again. 

He pockets the branch and there’s a jangling of keys as Dainsleif turns it in the door and unlocks it. With a giant, drawn, creak, he slowly opens it with a hand on his sword. If the halls of the dungeon were dark, then the inside of the cell looked like the void itself. He stepped cautiously in and so did she. It seemed like nothing was inside. Given how long the Mad King had been locked up and assuming no one gave him any food or water, he should be long gone. Silence answered them. 

A clawed hand shoots for her face. In an instant, Dainsleif knocks it away with a swing of his sword. Another hand joins the first and out of the darkness lunges something humanoid, slamming their arms down at them. The clang of his sword meets it. Another lunge, he deflects it, and reels it back, only to have it met with a kick. The claws scrape up the blade and he pushes it back before they meet again, clashing in the middle. Neither one giving in. A stalemate. 

The white of Irminsul draws closer, brighter, shining a light on whatever it is. 

A grotesque one-eyed lump of flesh met them. Human only in clothing and limbs. It was only then after seeing what used to be the king that Rhine suddenly smelled the sourness of rotting flesh. A decay that had even her covering her nose. Skin sagged, molded around his face, that long familiar beard even more haggard and tangled than the last time she’d seen him; ten years ago. 

But upon the light of the woman, he draws back his clawed hands from Dain’s blade, only inches from his throat. The old thing widened his eye, a deep crimson red that held the star of their homeland, as every Khaenri’ahn does. 

Dainsleif sheathes his sword. King Irmin looked past her at who she must assumed was the man’s life. It was nearly impossible to fathom that he could have ever loved anyone much less an extension of the world tree. 

The two stood in gaping disbelief, in pain, hurt, relief, joy. Every emotion flashed across their eyes hardly believing that either one was standing before the other. The king reached a shaking, clawed hand out towards Irminsul croaking out for her with a voice that had rotted a decade before.  

“Min kjærlighet! ” 

In a moment, the woman had rushed forward with a cry between a sob and pain. It was a sound that neither expected as she and Dainsleif watched them sink to the ground terrified to let go. Here in the darkness of the cell, the Mad King was neither title. If the ten long years of isolation had done anything, it had killed all semblance of a ruler beneath those robes, erased the hysteria that he’d grown infamous for, leaving only the trace of a persecuted man. Neither a saint or a sinner. 

Only a simple human. 

It might be the only thing that had ever shocked her when he opened his mouth to speak. “Takk skal du ha.”

Irminsul pulls his face closer to her lips, whispering to him. “Your people no longer speak the old language.” The man nodded as she turns back to them. “He means to say thank you.” 

Rhinedottir glanced down at him. “Does he remember who I am?” 

Without a need for translation, King Irmin nods, his eye finding her own. A cruel twist of irony almost. Here she was, standing before him ten years later all grown and loved by his very own people. But for some strange lingering reason, she felt small. As small as the day she’d blown up his soldiers leaving only the two to face each other. 

And once more, he points a ragged, bony finger. Accusing… but also admiring. 

“Look…” His accent was thick. “Our… god.” 

They all stand in silence, letting the words hang in the air and she wondered what in the world he meant. But relished in the fact that he saw her that way. 

Irminsul brushes the crooked strands of hair away from his face. “Do you mean it, my love?”

The old king slowly nods. “Gods… can face the Second. They will come. God… must save us.” 

Dainsleif stepped in front of her. His silence continued, much like how he used to be in the beginning. He glared daggers into Irmin, daring him to make a move toward her and without a trace of doubt, Rhine knew he would cut him down the second he inched any closer. 

He keeps his finger pointed. “You…have come… where is…Asmoday?”

Dain’s hand tightened on the hilt, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice. 

“The Daughter…of the Thirteenth Aeon…Has your Mother…taken…her back?”

He tensed as the man kept mentioning his sister. If neither she nor Irminsul was there, he would have grabbed the old king and shaken the answers out of him. 

“Has she…fulfilled…our Holy Father’s duties?”

It’s as if that word triggered a rage within him, one that she rarely ever saw. Always the calm and stoic one, he snapped, his low growling voice filling the darkness. And if Rhine listened closely, there was a faint sound of bells in the air. 

“I don’t want to hear another word of my Father coming out of your mouth.” 

“He holds…the truth…he needs… his Son.” 

“Fuck my Father.” 

She nearly jumped, looking at him in surprise. Irmin however, remained unphased.

“You… want…truth…” 

A silence falls upon them as the old king moves to speak again. And she knew just from the way his eyes shined with the gaze of something incomprehensible that more pieces would soon start falling into place. Just as soon as his words from the old language fill the cell. It came slow and steady, every other word articulated carefully. 

“The people of Khaenri’ah existed long before this place was ever thought of. All of us belong to our Heavenly Father, the Primordial One, Phanes. We are the First People of this land- the creatures, the Vishaps that came before were elemental dragons. They gifted this world everything that you see now and after a long war, they were defeated. With a wave of his hand, Phanes brought human life to this world and all the people lived in peace, under his united rule. We were proud of ourselves, grateful for all the blessings he’d given us and so our Father bestowed us with one more gift; the stars that we now all hold in our eyes. It was a mark that promised to pass down to our children and theirs and on until the end of all time.

Thousands of years passed. We as a whole, thrived. But the Heavens opened up once more and the Second came. They came with their fury and entitlement, they came to say ‘This land is ours.’ A war took place among the clouds, in the skies above. We humans were helpless, earthbound, walking creatures. On this land that we call Teyvat, we saw our Heavenly Father put his soul and body between the Second and all his children. What little remains in the books here today have recorded the war to last a thousand years and by the end of it, most humans had been forced into submission to the new gods. Those who did not were either killed, cursed, or forced to hide.

A fractured peace returned to the land once more. And as a mark of servitude, those who kneeled to the Second had their stars erased. As time drew on, we were allowed to exist alongside everything and everyone else here, but not allowed to thrive. The books and the songs called us heretics, that though we are still here, we are godless. Our own people have nearly forgotten the Father as well and to protect the last of his children, our memories of him are locked away into the depths of our souls. There is no key to unlock it, no incantation nor any way to remember who we once were.

I came into this world as any ordinary person would do. I was loved, I became a sage, I wanted the world in my hands and to do that, I needed knowledge. More knowledge than any mortal could ever hope to learn. As time went on, thousands of unanswerable questions came before me, and I had a desire to find all of them. A voice came to me one day and spoke. 

Find land above the Black Sea. 

Hang yourself upon the branches of Irminsul

Herald my coming

Send the truth back to me.

I did as I was told and the secrets, the truths of this world was whispered to me by the voice of a woman. For nine days, I hung, listening to all there was to know. I saw the beginning, glimpses of other worlds, other religions. The true sky. The crimes of the Second, and the face of Irminsul. She had a blinding beauty, one that was far too great to belong to any soil we stand upon. I fell in love with her in those nine days. But she was sick. The new gods cursed any knowledge alluding to a time before the Second, and it festered and grew. It hoped to erase all remaining records of us. 

Our Father told of two stars He would send to unite our people, those who have remained faithful and those who have forgotten Him would find solace in Him once more. You and your sister came from the skies, from our Father and our Mother above him. Pistis Sophia, of the Thirteenth Aeon. I was waiting for Asmoday, the one who would save our people and Irminsul. I would have fulfilled my task,  but knowledge of the forbidden drove me mad. The truth is tainted, I grew old and delirious as I waited. 

And here you stand, Dainsleif. Star of the skies. Though from just a simple glance, the plan must have failed. You are broken. Damaged. Confused. Your loyalty strayed from your sisters’ life and you have no idea where to put it. You have stretched it far too thin and when that breaks, what will be left of you? What will be left if not a self-sacrifice in the end? Just as your sister would do?” 

Rhine catches his hand when he swings the sword down on the man. His strength was unparalleled and it took all she had to make him drop it. But she could do nothing to mitigate the fury in his eyes. 

“Where you were too perfect for your own good, Asmoday’s was needed. Her strong will drives her to fulfill a purpose on the level of the divine. To place any less determination in her would be foolish. Our Father gave her the spirit of a martyr of one that would give her life to complete her task. She would not stop for any earthly thing. Not even for the one made alongside her. Freedom came as a byproduct of her will, so she may never be shackled or chained and when she meets our Father, He promised her two wings from his own back, so that she may take to the skies as well.”

“And if she remembers, you along with it. You have served her well, Dainsleif, Son of the Thirteenth Aeon. You have served all of us to the best of your ability but your purpose has not yet been fulfilled. For as long as Asmoday remains, you are to be her tool, her weapon and shield. There is one final war with the gods but who comes out victorious remains to be seen. When I came to power, our victory was foretold, but after the usurpation, the fate of this world has been thrown into an imbalance, one that I still cannot place the source of.” 

Rhine’s fists clenched. 

“When the time comes, you must, above all else, obey King Alberich. One final order and your actions will determine the fate of the First People, the fate of these lands. Whether our nation will sink into the Black Sea and rest with the gods there will depend on you. This is your answer. This is the truth of the world.” 

All that came from the silence was Dainsleif’s heavy breaths. He’s frozen in place, his face pale of all color and it seemed like he’d almost suffocated. His sword drops to the ground with a loud clang that echoed in the cell. If she listened closely it almost gave way to a glimpse of the future; the clashing of weapons and spears. And when he spoke, it came hoarse, barely discernable. 

“What is the order?”

“That is something I was forbidden to tell you, as is Alberich’s duty to keep his silence until the time comes.”  

He bent down, picked up the sword. For a moment, she watched him move to sheathe it. Pause. Then raised it to his own neck. 

“Dainsleif-”

“If I die here, if I martyr myself, take her will onto me, this war would never begin-” His words tumble out in desperation. “If the weight of this world and the lives of our people rests on my decision to obey-”

“The order is not to kill yourself. If you do this, it would only bring it closer in time. You must be the Captain of the Royal Guard- only that position has access to these cells. Only you can get in here so easily. If you choose to die before me, Asmoday will not have Khaenri’ah standing when she returns.”

His eyes widened in shock. “She’s alive?” 

Rhine snatches the sword from his neck and hurls it away, unable to believe her own ears as well. 

“She is coming home to you this very moment.” 

Irminsul finally speaks, standing straight and facing them. “My roots have grown in Teyvat. She will plummet from the sky just as she had done, so long ago.” 

She looked at him. He glanced back. Both of them could hardly process what they were hearing. Asmoday’s coming home.  Asmoday was coming home.

“You will be reunited,” King Irmin whispers, “Your order will be fulfilled.”

Chapter Text

She swung. It slams into their limb but only ends up sending a spike of pain up her own instead. 

You fight like a mad dog. 

Without hesitating, she pulled up and bit. Teeth broke skin, she knew from the way it punctured it like the peel of a sunsettia and from the blood dribbling down her chin. It tasted metallic and sweet, it dried her mouth. Her jaw locks on and she pulls, trying to take out a chunk of muscle- half panicked and angry, a crazed frenzy took over her body, fighting to free herself. 

Home. She needed to get home. 

“You would run from the truth.” 

She continued to tear at their flesh. 

“It’s not that you’ve forgotten what your brother wanted to hide. You chose to lock that memory away for good.” 

Wind rushes past her as she continued to dangle, thousands upon thousands of miles into the air. 

“You’re hurt.” The god echoed. “I won’t do that to you.” 

“You lie,” she seethed. “All you gods do is lie!”

The god’s nails dig into her arms, and she stabs the ring into their wrist, tightening her fist to drag it down. A thin line comes away but it’s not enough. She continues her assault as the god’s light grows, brighter, stronger. 

It swallows her whole. 

. . .

She woke up to an empty house. It’s dark out, and she glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Her room is stuffy, especially with the blankets she piled on top of herself and the owl he’d gotten her was crushed against the wall. Had Dainsleif come in and shut the window? She hated when he did that and he knows. 

Rubbing her eyes, she got up to grab some water. Her throat was dry and she was too tired to care about any dark corners or shadows. Moving through the house, she clung to her owl in case anything did jump out. 

It was a quiet night. Peaceful. She knew the case to be different for him, he’s working late again for the fifth time this week. And when asked about it, he only shook his head and changed the subject. That, and he has his day shifts as well. 

She sipped the water slowly, leaning against the counter and staring at the front door. It would be nice if he could be home more. This place always felt too empty without him. Setting down the glass, Asmoday raised her owl at the door like a magic wand. 

“Come back now.” 

It was a stupid idea, but hell, no one’s here to see her do that. Nothing happens. 

“Now.” 

All remains silent. 

“And… now!”

Something scratches at the door. She froze as the sound continued to grow. The knife cabinet shouldn’t be too far away but then, she’s never fought anything before. Her mind spun. Dainsleif had told her to never reveal who she was to anyone; a knight’s little sister, more specifically, one that’s quickly rising to the top. He’d bring home bloodstains and short fragments of the world outside. Of Nokken, and Skogskra, all fairytales to scare her when she was still young. But now, she learned that people were far more monstrous than any of them could be. 

Because humans were the ones to put a target on his back, and she knew without him saying it, that anyone who had a vendetta against him would go after her too. No one could know. But since she’s the very secret they’re both trying to keep, it wasn’t that difficult. 

No one knew she existed. Neither she nor Dainsleif had a last name, and what added even more distance was their different hair color. In a way, she was content with this, whenever she did go outside to her neighbor’s, it offered her almost a kind of freedom. As far as they knew, she was the nice orphan girl who squatted in an empty home, who dropped by every house to help with chores or babysat the children. She’d earned their trust and affection which also meant an added layer of protection. 

And as far as anybody in the palace knew? 

Dainsleif had no sister. He was a lone man who had nothing to lose which made him all the more dangerous to piss off. Even among his closest friends, none of them knew of any family he had. 

But had she let something slip on accident? Her mouth had loosened around the children. She ran through every conversation trying to figure out what went wrong. Or maybe someone had trailed Dain back home; they often did. But he’d always take care of them and stay away for an hour just in case. What if something happened to him and that’s why they were able to make it to his door? It could be just one of the neighbors. But it’s two in the morning. 

It grows louder. Taunting her. She carefully rolls out the cabinet and picks up the first knife she touches. 

Maybe something did happen to him. They’d been attacked once before. Or, she had been. Dainsleif had made it back to her in time, but there was no guarantee that he will a second time. Her heart pounds, her mind spirals. She’s going to be all alone in this world if it was true. And that thought scared her the most. 

The door meows. 

She froze, halfway toward the door and stared. 

Doors don’t meow.  

The scratching stops, replaced with a purr. 

It’s an earthquake. No, it’s a trap to make me think it’s an earthquake, that way, they’ll lure me outside and kill me. 

It meows again. 

Cat. 

She flings open the door without any hesitation, intending to scoop it right in before anyone could see. Sure, it might be bait, but she’ll do it so quickly, they won’t have the chance to take her. 

It’s orange. And it immediately warms up to her, its tail curling around her dress and sniffing at her hands. It’s of average size, and all four paws were white. 

“Look at you. You’re gigantic.” There were some honey and bread left at the kitchen table by Dainsleif when he’d shoveled some food into his mouth before rushing out the door to work. Grabbing what’s left of it, she dunked it in before holding it out. “Do you like sugary stuff? I do.” 

It sniffs around the bread before licking and eating it. About halfway through, it suddenly bites down and takes the whole thing into its mouth before scratching at the door again. She didn’t want it to go. Sighing, she opened the door again to let it out. 

The night was cold, and an icy chill sweeps through her dress and hair. She shouldn’t be out for so long, even for only a few seconds. But that can’t be helped. In the darkness, came a pair of yellow eyes, glaring menacingly at her. A black cat stalks out from the shadows, staring at her like she’d killed his entire family. 

The orange one stayed, circling around her legs. “You want your brother?” She asked. It meowed. 

Turning towards the other one still in the street, it sits down across from them, rooted to the spot. “Come on, she wants you here.”

It blinked. 

“She saved some food for you, the least you could do is be grateful and come take it.” 

The black cat began licking its paws. 

“Your brother is really annoying, you know. Whatever. More food for you.” She sat down on the porch, waiting impatiently for the other one to come. It was a bad idea but one night can’t possibly go wrong. Besides that, Dainsleif doesn’t have to know. 

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted when the black cat goes stiff, turning his head down the street. “Something wrong?” Without another second, it suddenly bounds down the street. 

Against her better judgment, she runs after it. She didn’t know why. It’s dangerous outside. Stories of murderers that Dainsleif told her all came flooding back. Each alley they passed increased her paranoia, each shadow, like fingers of a monster tearing at her dress. 

But the orange cat needed her brother. A soft pattering settles just behind her, and she looked back to find that it had dropped the food and was running along with honey-stained fur. 

Silver catches her eyes and she quickly slips behind the corner of the house. Moments later, the sound of a cat hissing and screeching could be heard. She wanted to help, to rush out and grab it, but a sinking feeling crawled up inside. 

A man in ragged clothes was holding a knife to it, his back turned to her as he trembled. Backed away from the empty street. 

“Come out!” His voice shook. “I know you’re there!” 

In a flash, a giant hunk of moving metal crashes down onto the dirt, clanking slowly, arrogantly. As if no mountain nor god could stop its advance. The armor shined in the moonlight, darker than the sky, swallowing what little rays there were, whole. 

“Stay back.” He trembled, waving it around as if that would do anything. “I don’t understand- why, why?” The man took a bold step forward. “You were one of us! We kept you fed in that alley, you were family to us- when you became a knight, we were happy for you!” 

It stalked closer. 

“Speak! Dainsleif, talk! Gods above, you haven’t said a single word since you swung your sword the moment you stepped foot back into our alleyway!” 

Her heart dropped. That giant hulking thing can’t be her brother. And the bloodstains- that man had to be lying, hell if all three of them came from that place she recognized neither of them. One, a monster, the other, a man she barely knew. 

The man’s breathing grew heavier. From terror and rage. “Speak!” He stepped closer. “Dainsleif, use your damn mouth and talk!” He held the knife closer to the black cat he’d snatched. A cold wind came between them as shaky breaths and sputtering began to fill the air. 

Asmoday had never seen a grown man cry before. Her chest weighed as much as the oceans in her books. 

“Do it.” 

Monstrous. That was not her brother inside the metal. She knew her brother’s voice and it wasn’t him. She breathed out a trembling sigh of relief and braced to cover her ears. That man had gotten it wrong, which meant she could just wait this out and then rush back home once she got the chance. 

His grip shakes as he held onto the knife. 

“It doesn’t matter if you kill it or not. You will die either way.” 

His voice cracked and shook. “How- what have they done to you?” A sob burst from his mouth before he quickly stifled it. “What happened to you Dainsleif?” He lunged, swinging the knife before it quickly knocks it away. With one motion, the monster swung and sent the cat’s head flying. 

She flinched back and hunkered back down behind the building. Her heart pounded. It’s going to be okay. She just needed to wait for the right time to run back home and then pretend like nothing happened. Dainsleif won’t know about this. And though she would run to him for comfort and safety, he absolutely cannot know. But maybe she could make up the excuse of having a nightmare. That always worked and he never questioned it. Whenever the nights became too unbearable and the stuffed owl couldn’t keep the darkness at bay, she’d always go to him. Or at least as soon as he got home. 

Her covered ears did little to block out the man’s wailing. It echoed. The sound made worse by the empty street and the buildings, letting it bounce off the walls. He begged. He bargained. He insulted and apologized, but through all of that, one word kept cycling back. 

Why?

Then…

“What would your sister say?” That one question made her peek back around the corner. 

Just in time to see a head sailing through the air.

It hits the ground, and rolls forward, toward her, a mixture of pain and anger as his body slumps to the ground. The head settles, right in front of her feet, eyes wide. 

Eyes staring straight at her. He was still alive, for only a few more seconds and there was a flash of recognition. Tears stained his cheeks. His mouth moved, blood pouring out. 

“A-”

Asmoday hadn’t even realized she’d stumbled out from the hiding spot until her legs gave out and tripped on her own feet at the same time. She tumbled right into the giant pool of blood that was still growing from the decapitated body. It’s warm, sticky, wet. A sickly iron smell filled the air, reminding her of the butcher shop in the marketplace whenever she was allowed to go out. A red-stained neckbone was visible, she couldn’t tell if it was muscle or not. 

A monstrous growl came from underneath the metal. Incoherent mumbles. Terror crawled up with each syllable. That sword was still dripping with blood. It might come down on her too. What then? Her brother would come from work to an empty house, wondering where she went. Asmoday? She didn’t dare hold the hope that he might happen to be on patrol and pass by, saving her from death. He would run to the neighbors in the middle of the night. -Asmoday. He would knock on every door of the entire kingdom. Asmoday- He would look in every crevice, pipe and roof to find her. Asmoday!

“Asmoday!” 

Her brother’s voice snaps her back and relief begins to fill her entire being. Until she looks up. 

It’s face distorted- the eyes weren’t right. His mouth burst with rows and rows of fangs as skin melted into the obsidian armor. It was wearing his face. 

It reached out. “Asmoday-”

She ran. 

Her breath catches when the crashing of steel against stone pursues her. The road was too long, too wide, there was no time to hide behind a box or to lose it, the thing was wearing her brother’s face, he might be dead, he might not, this might be some secret he’s keeping from her, it would make sense; he always scared her with stories- it’s gaining on her. She sprints faster, thank goodness she was light on her feet, maybe it was some joke, but Dainsleif never pulled jokes, should she run to the palace, where was it- down the corner- was running home the right decision, where’s her brother, it’s calling her name, it’s going to skin her alive, what if he’s dead- through the door, there’s no time to slam it shut- Dainsleif- to her bedroom, there’s time to lock it- hide, hide! 

She trips on the leg of her bed and goes crashing to the floor as a spike of pain is driven through her entire feet and radiates all the way up the left side of her body. Her lungs squeeze tight as she sobs breathlessly. The wood is cold and the monster is right outside her door. She could hear it. It’s going to skin her alive. Dainsleif would find either a pile of flesh if it was merciful enough or nothing but bones. 

The sound tears at her vocal cords as everything blurs in her vision. Tears pour like a river, like the blood from that man’s body, she wanted Dainsleif. Why does he always have to take the night shift? Why does he have to leave her in this house alone at night? Can’t he understand? She curled up, hugging herself as she cried louder. It didn’t matter whether it heard her or not. It’s going to come in anyway. Nothing could stop it. That flimsy door couldn’t even hold her brother when he accidentally crashed into it one night after being so sleep deprived. 

She’d flung a pillow at him out of anger. That memory drove a knife through her chest, her emotions doing what that man couldn’t. That cat had a family. Where was the orange one? If only it hadn’t been so damn stubborn, none of this would have happened. 

Slowly, her vision fades as her body began to ache. Her legs were starting to go sore from all that running. Thank goodness she could sleep, it’d be more peaceful to go that way. At least that was one small thing she could count on. Her hands are shivering. 

It’s cold. 

Crushingly so. 

. . .

Daylight streamed in through the window. 

She was alive. Cautiously, she got up. Everything hurt. She could still smell blood. 

Her bedroom door opens and her brother was slumped against the wall. His armor lays in a pile on the ground as the scent of iron grows stronger. Immediately, she bursts into tears again, every emotion bubbling and boiling over, but that didn’t matter, none of it did. Her brother was here, he was home, and the long night was already beginning to fade into another one of her obscure nightmares. But still, she knew the truth of what happened. 

There was no monster. All that blood was his doing. 

Azzy locked that away into the depths of her soul, with no intention of letting it see the sun. 

. . .

“Do you still wish to go back?” 

She’s left reeling, breathless. That fear of him never went away but then, what does it matter, in the face of everything he’s done for her? He was home. 

“He’s my brother.” 

“He would kill you.” 

“He’s my brother, ” she repeated. And she’d keep doing it until her bones are left to fall through the air. “I’m not going to let you hurt him.” Because he’s been through enough. She would take his weapon from him herself if it meant that his life could be a bit more peaceful. His paid leave; that would be the start of it. She needed to take him outside the gates, towards the field of flowers, he needed to see where it all came from. Maybe if he set eyes on that place, he’d understand her. 

She wouldn’t allow her mind to think too deeply into it. Everyone was waiting for her. Maybe they would be waiting forever but at least they’d find solace in knowing that she’d died for them. Dain would find peace in knowing that she left the world in a better place. Dying. Martyring. For something so much greater than anyone in the lands above and below. For all the people and the allogenes that were too ambitious for their own good. For the dead gods in the Black Sea. The snake ring shined like it could belong in the room of forgotten relics. Asmoday swiped up at the god. 

Their grip loosened, thought it didn’t seem like they did so out of pain. “You will not survive the fall.” They dangled her further. 

Her heart pounded, that human instinct to survive surged as her own hand tightened. Before she let go all of her fingers.

“Hand over the pearl.” 

She quickly cut the strap to her satchel and let it slip all the way to the edges. “Take it from me.” It was already closer to Teyvat than Celestia even from up here and gods seldom intervened in person. 

The god lunged, but their grip on her wrist loosened. Azzy swung it towards the fingers, trying to break through. Her stomach drops- she’s falling. Wind rushes past her, gaining speed, falling quicker as gravity pulled hungrily.

Orange, circling back. 

Marbus crashes into her, breaking the drop. She grabs him, hanging on as fire engulfs them both completely, trying to get away. 

“Are you hurt?” His low gravelly voice came like a shield against the divine. Her heart swelled. 

“You caught me!” 

He doesn’t answer, focusing all of his energy and strength on getting them away. Just the sheer speed they were going was enough to keep her pinned to his shoulder as fire scorched her skin and burned her clothes. Smoke filled her lungs but wind replaced it just as quickly and despite the urgency and the dire situation they were in, a warm, cozy feeling grew in her heart, like that of a little girl being carried out of danger after a long 

The god is chases after them, a comet shooting across the sky, a white terrifying light that sought to lay judgment on her and the man underneath the stone. Yet, he still gave that sense of safety- security. Marbus would get away, he would know what to do, though she worried about his energy after meeting the heavens to snatch her back, she was sure the Abyss would open up and swallow her once more. That it would cover her with the comfort of darkness and other monsters just like him. 

He barrels toward the ground like Durin, his fire burning brighter, orange and reds and shades of yellow covered her sight, creeping into her vision until the god had all but disappeared. The ground raced up, but he showed no signs of stopping. It’s all going too fast. She had no idea what he was doing- 

“Close your eyes.” He twists her up. 

A giant boom rattled her ears and shook her to the very core. Fire and light blinded her completely as she squeezed them shut, but it wasn’t enough; she could see the very bones in her hands. 

What they’d both forgotten were her ears. 

The shockwave sent sharp iron tongs of agony straight through her head and she wasn’t sure if she’d screamed. Her vocal cords vibrated, but no sound came from them. Had it shattered her voice too? One moment, she was in the crossfire of a demon and a god, and the next, she’s lying in a cavern, leaning against the wall. 

Maybe she’d died. What was Marbus thinking? Though anger was the last thing she felt towards him, he could have at least told her what drove him to such a drastic measure. Her vision blurs, and she blinks, trying to adjust and readjust it again. Frustrated, she grabs her head and shakes it. A high-pitched screeching tormented her ears and it throbs endlessly. Clawed stone hands keeps her from slumping to the floor completely. 

Marbus was there in front of her. The flames in his eyes had dimmed even more, but he maintained his composure. There’s something soft against the side of her head. A cloth? When he pulled it away, she caught sight of red stains.

Her eyes widened. 

He quickly drew out words on the dirt. 

Your eardrums burst. The god is searching for you and the Abyss is making a plan to get you home safe. 

She moved her mouth, hoping the way she spoke wasn’t broken. “ My ears hurt.”

You are a god. Your hearing will come back in due time. 

That at least, gave her some relief. 

“Can I send a message to Dainsleif?” 

He draws back and stands up, leaving her alone as he walks out to scan the area. She took that as permission. Through the pain in her head, she had enough sense to try and whisper. It could have been loud, there was no way of knowing. But Marbus would have come and glared if she was. 

Azzy pushes herself off the ground and to her feet, stumbling to find him at the entrance. “Take this to him.” She drops the ring into the palm of his stalagmite hands. 

He draws out some words on the dirt floor. 

Rest.  

And it was obvious he wouldn’t leave until she sat back and complied. So she moved back and slumps to the ground, hugging herself as she buried her face into her arms. Everything ached and burned. But it was done. 

She’s coming home. 

With that thought, her eyes grew heavier, dreaming of cakes and flowers and of Khaenri’ah itself. If she knew her body wouldn’t give out she’d have run back on her own. 

. . .

There’s something heavy wrapped around her. It’s dark and warm and fur tickled her face. Slowly, her eyes open and she pushes herself to sit up. 

Marbus is a statue by the entrance and he must have heard her movement. He turns and is back at her side in an instant, reaching a hand out to keep it from slipping. 

Your brother wanted to accompany you home.  

She tugs it around her tightly, wiggling herself further into it. Dainsleif always complained about her taking the few good pieces of clothing he owned to go outside; it was tailor-made, and he rarely spent money on himself, if at all. He’d worn it for the first and last time at the ceremony that made him captain. On top of his disapproval, wearing his clothes would draw unwanted attention, meaning she’d literally be donning a target on her back. 

But to have him send this to her now, what went through his head? 

“How is he?” 

He wants you home. Marbus draws out a map on the ground; a picture of Mondstadt before speaking. And she knows he is because there’s a faint sound of rumbling. I’ve exhausted all of my energy and the Abyss cannot-

She grabs his arm, stopping him. “My hearing is returning.” 

Neither of them move. 

“Talk.” 

The Abyss cannot get close to where we are. We’d landed in Starfell Lake, meaning that the surrounding area has become impenetrable. In addition to that, the god is still looking for you and a rescue party from the Abyss will not be able to stop it. At most, we can stall and buy you a few precious seconds. 

“But how did you get to my brother? We should have been found long ago.” 

I scattered my stain to throw it off. I will not be able to go anywhere without alerting it to your location.

“You could just open a rift-” 

He shook his head. And in that moment, she understood. Marbus had barely any energy left to do so. 

In other words, they’re both trapped. 

The Abyss has found one that will teleport you to Musk Reef, above Stombearer Point. You will go down the path that leads to Istaroth’s Temple, and leap from Starsnatch to cross over. 

“But whatever the god left behind can’t affect me.” 

You will be stepping into holy light if you go through Starfell. Anywhere the divine goes on Teyvat, the heavens can see. And they won’t hesitate to bring support. 

That could mean anything. She could be smited on the spot or accidentally have a legion of gods searching the land for her. 

The Spiral Abyss there will take you to safety. From there, you will reemerge in the lands below and cross the Black Sea to find Khaenri’ah standing. You may rest in the Abyss, but time flows differently. Remember to never stay too long. 

“Then what about you?” 

I will disguise myself as you and take a path close to Windrise to draw the god’s attention. The Abyss are gathering as many as needed to be posted at Dadaupa Gorge. It’ll assume that I am you and that you’re taking the closest route to the Spiral. We’ll keep it there for as long as possible. 

She bit her lip. That plan sounded better than just making a break for it and hoping for the best. “So then you’ll be okay?” 

My safety is the last thing that should be on your mind.

The air remained quiet for a few moments. 

The Abyss will defend me, in order to fool the god. 

That lessened the weight in her chest a little more. She catches a glimpse of her satchel and the cracks of white light on his rocky hands. Azzy pulls it further away from him and the glow seemed to dim, thankfully. “I met my dad.” 

He sat back from the drawing. 

“He was everything you said he would be and more. I felt like I was home.” She bit her lip, hiding a smile. “He asked me to stay but I wanted Dainsleif to be there too, so he asked me to go get him.”

And if your brother refuses to follow you? 

“Then I’ll just stay here until he wants to.” The answer seemed obvious. “But Marbus…” Her throat goes dry, suddenly remembering what her father had said. “He said the pearl in my bag was fake.” 

The flames in his eyes flickered. 

“He kept saying it was a fake- did I-” 

For the brief moment that the Abyss stored the pearl while I came for you, it was confirmed real. I do not know why your father would say that. Perhaps to deceive you into leaving the pearl with him. 

“I didn’t speak a word about what I was even there for.” 

The gods have eyes, even the ones who are chained down. Your father being the Primordial One would have especially known.

“He wouldn’t do that. I’m his daughter.” 

He is a god. You’re clever enough to know that statement holds no weight. 

Speechless, her gaze falls to the ground, bringing her knees up and huddling into the cloak further. “So there’s no one I can trust up here. Except for Rosalyn.” 

You can trust me. 

That’s ridiculous and it shows in her expression. Marbus of all people should know that request was hardly feasible, with him drilling it into her that the Abyss had ulterior motives and to not get attached to anyone nearly every single lecture. 

Good. Be wary of everyone. You only have your brother. 

“What about Rhine?” 

She’s the most dangerous person alive in Khaenri’ah. All of her projects have royal approval and she’s gaining more favor with the people each passing day. 

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” 

Tell me if you think it’s good to throw all your faith into a single person. Now he’s starting to lecture her again. She knew that voice too well and it sometimes put her to sleep in the middle of a lesson. Be careful around her. 

“That’s ridiculous, she’s my friend, she’s like family to me.”

Listen to me, Asmoday. 

She bit her tongue at the use of her full name. 

Are you choosing not to remember what you’ve learned? You cannot pick and choose who your lessons apply to. Your Master wants to become a god, and you know what will happen if you don’t fit into her perfect vision. 

“Rhinedottir-”

-Loves you like her own. She cares for you, but do not let that impede your judgment.  Be cautious around her. 

Her jaw clenched. What would he know about it? As far as she knew, those two hold a kind of restrained professional relationship, as if neither one could care less about keeping courtesy with the other. It was the equivalent of passive-aggressive work letters being sent back and forth. Marbus found it undignified to be studied under a microscope like some strange anomaly that needed to be understood. Downright offended in fact, when Rhinedottir approached him one day about it. 

“I’m sure my brother has that handled already.” He’s probably disintegrating in his armor every day, having to put up with her while she was gone. It seemed like out of everyone, only Azzy could handle her, but then, her Master never teased her so relentlessly like she did with Dain. 

The man’s eyes flickered and the air around them suddenly changed. Was he… uncomfortable?

“Out with it.” 

Your brother is in love with her. 

She blinked, staring at him. Impossible. “He has game?” 

After all the warnings, that is the first thing you say? He asked in exasperation, the fire in his eyes growing just a little. And what is this ‘game’ you are speaking-

“He pulls?” She replies, her voice growing louder. “My brother has the conversation skills of a rock on the side of a road- forget about that, how does she put up with him?” 

I don’t understand how you made it to heaven and back with your current priorities. The mutter was nearly too quiet; her hearing was still damaged. But not enough to miss the slight irritation in his tone. Asmoday, be cautious around her. 

“Yes, alright, fine.” She tried to be more serious, otherwise he’ll never get off her back on it. “I’ll figure things out once I get home. The pearl still has to go back, we can focus on trust later.” 

He goes quiet, satisfied for now. Which means she gets to bring up another matter to him. 

“Come to the midsummer festival this year.”

No.

“You can disguise yourself as a human, why not? Just live a little, doesn’t it get boring having to work all day every day for hundreds of years? Even my brother gets to be off the clock… sometimes.”

No. 

“Yes, I know you’re working for the greater good and all that but the greater good can handle one day of you being absent. You need to get some fun back into those creaky old joints and no, I’m not apologizing for that comment this time. You’re literally made out of rocks and lava so it's fair. When’s the last time you lived a little? Centuries. So come.”

No. 

I’m going to keep pestering you about it until you say yes. 

There’s a pause. But she knew what his answer would be, the anticipation lies in a verbal confirmation. 

Fine. 

She can’t hide the smile on her face, even as she’s told to stand. Her legs were already itching to burst into a run, but Marbus motioned for her to wait. It’s quiet outside, peaceful, birds were chirping and wind rustled the leaves. It would be nice for a walk, but right now, it’s probably the creepiest thing in the world. Even in broad daylight, it’s like stepping into a haunted forest, made all the more unsettling by how deceptive the calmness could be. 

Count to fifty. His arm shakes as a dark purple mist erupted from his hand and covers him completely before falling away to reveal another version of her. 

“This is so-”

He walks out without another word. Typical. 

Asmoday counts. Fifty seconds. There’s the smell of flora nearby and she inhaled deeply. Rhinedottir would like it here and she’d drag Dainsleif to come if she needed to, because he just can’t miss out on something like this. Her entire trip is over now, and a thin stream of melancholia hangs in the air. Rosalyn was still here, she and Rostam should be in Mondstadt right now, but it’ll only be two more days before the Akademiya needs her back. 

Twenty comes too soon. 

She looked out at the path before her, mapping out where to jump and turn so far. There would be some climbing involved, some flying and lots of running. But it’s nothing she can’t handle. 

Ten. 

Hopefully the god is gone. 

Right now, everything seemed to be jumping out at her. 

One. 

Her feet moves before she could think. Instantly, she’d already leaped over as far as she had planned and now everything else relied on her reflexes. Her feet pounded against the floor. She hugged the cloak to keep it from snagging anything. As she sprinted through the woods, trees and bramble threatened to knock and slow her down. 

She ran, ran for home. Paranoia grabs a hold of her. What if Marbus had lost the god somehow? What if it circled back? Her thoughts are as scattered as the wind. But her legs moved, almost like a machine. Almost like wings were attached to her heels. A brief quip from Rosalyn flashed across her mind. 

A rat.  

She stifled a smile. That energy needed to be saved for running. 

She at least had to make it far enough to start climbing when- if the god ever finds out. Or maybe further. Maybe enough to start flying to the rift. Setting her goals higher meant pushing herself to go faster, to exceed where she’s supposed to be. 

Her legs take her to the other side of Windrise, now fully out in the open. And she hoped with every inch of her being that no one would catch sight of a young girl in a black cloak booking it across the plains. There’s no cover here. The heavens have eyes. Would they notice her now? Would her father?

In no time at all, she’s running up the path to the Thousand Winds Temple. The shape of it makes her anxiety worse. It’s almost the same as the Colosseum up there. She scrambles up the stone bleachers and digs her fingers into the walls. Climb. Do it like your life depends on it. Because it does. It’s jagged stone. Almost the same texture as Marbus. 

The first time they fought seemed so long ago. 

Hauling herself over, the edge of the cliff is right there, she’s so close. Elation makes her heart skip a beat. Home was so close. She runs with newfound motivation to the edge. 

She leaps. The ground rushes to meet her, and throwing open her arms, it breaks her fall. But that’s not enough to be quick about crossing over to Cape Oath. Durin would gain speed by folding his wings back. She pulls the wooden frame of the glider behind her and dives. 

Wind rushes past her, battering her face, next to the sparkling ocean to her right, she caught sight of a strange object in the distance. Rocky. Ornamental. An island? Her heart pounds and an exhilarating rush made her almost laugh. 

The other side draws closer. There’s supposed to be a current there that would take her up- the rift is right above. She’s almost home. 

She should get Dain to try this out. Or maybe Rhine would be more willing to. 

Grabbing the frame, she pulls it open as hard as she can, fighting against the air. A sharp pain dashes up her arms. The ground’s coming up too fast. 

Asmoday crash lands. Almost. Dirt and pebbles scrapes her knees and it knocks all the breath from her lungs. She lay there, wheezing, gasping. The current. She had to hurry. With one hand on the ground, she gets up before a dash of iron pierces her left foot and brings her down. 

A sprain. Fun. 

She half limped- half ran to the current, the frame weighing her down. Hissing in pain, desperately trying to make it. Just a little more and the pressure can be taken off her foot. 

In the middle of the circle, she throws it open and she’s shot into the air. Her foot throbs. The rift grows, and its beautiful, stars and dark, night colors swirled around endlessly like a dream. Blue skies are swallowed up, clouds too, it reminded her of the bottle of heaven water she got. Marbus hadn’t seen it yet-

A flash of blinding light dives straight for her chest before a stone giant covers her view. The sheer force knocks her from the current and out of the air. She tumbles. Her hands frantically grapples at the frame of her wings. The ground’s rushing up to meet her once more, but there’s no stopping it. Twisting herself, she tries to hold up, but it’s useless and she braced herself. 

Stalagmite nails dig into her arms as it sweeps her up into his arms. The impact slams into him instead and even then, it knocks her breathless. The light plunges down- the god, it’s diving for them and Marbus can’t get back up in time. Her hand digs into her bag. What was he even doing here? The sickles from Natlan-

It barely blocks them in time, red blood spurting out of the ball of light. He turns the heat up and leaps back for the rift. From that angle, her heart drops. The god rebounds a second later.

“No-”

They plunge into him. 

A burst of roaring flames is shot straight into her face as he throws her toward the rift, and lets go. She opened her mouth to scream, only to be met with a seering it as it burned and dried the insides. That didn’t matter. She reached through it- orange singed her skin. 

She snatched at his wrist. Tendrils of night shoot forth to cover the horrifying sight of him in front of her. His eyes flickered, holy light spreading and cracking his stone. 

The rift pulls her inside. It’s instantaneous. With a flash of swirling pools, stars and night painted and smeared all around them. Then it spits them back out. 

They slam into the ground on the beach of Musk Reef, the hollow sound of the Spiral filling the air. 

For a moment, she laid there, every single bone in her body aching horribly. The sun was beating down on her as soft clouds gently float across the blue skies. 

A shaking gasp comes from the sand next to her. He’s barely moving. 

She scrambled up, rushing to his side as another crack breaks the stone. “Marbus, Marbus-” She fumbles to grab at the light, as if anything divine was the same as a human wound. “No, no- come on-” Slinging an arm around her shoulder, she tried to get him up. 

But he’s heavy and the motion only served to make her wince as her foot burns from the sprain. 

“Stop.” It’s barely a whisper. 

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled. The Spiral. It’s right there. 

“Stop- just go.” 

Desperation made her pull harder, trying to get him there. 

“Please.” He pushed her- nudged- but it was enough to make her crumble. She can’t stop. She pushed to get up again. He’s too heavy. 

“Asmoday.” 

“No!” It explodes from her. “Just get up, come on- stand! Stand, get up, Marbus!” 

He can’t. Another crack makes him jerk as the holy light continues to break him. Her fingers clawed into his armor, trying to wrench him up. It doesn’t work, and his legs barely move. “We’re so close-” The Spiral was right there, right in front of them. Her jaw clenched, a sharp sting in her eyes as she managed to haul him towards the steps, slowly. But would it be enough? In the back of her mind, the god must have figured out where they were by now. 

If he could just make it through…

With another jerk, she tries to pull him up the first step. Only for his armor to catch and bring her down. A sharp pain dashes up from her ankle and she screamed in frustration, slamming her fists into the stone. 

The rough edges of his hand tightened around her arm. “Her name-” 

It was such a faint whisper, she barely heard it. She quickly leaned down, her chest tightening as she watched the light spread further. 

“-Andromeda.” 

The rasp came so quietly she wondered if she’d heard it right. Between the panic, his injury and the fact that the god might be barreling towards them this very second, she had no idea what it meant. Her mind is anything but coherent, as a cold chill sweeps over her, watching him die. Watching him die right before the Abyss. 

A pit of resentment boiled inside of her. 

“Andromeda.” 

“I don’t understand!” His eyes are fading. The fire in them are slowly dimming. The magma in his body- it’s cooling down. Turning to stone. “I don’t understand, Marbus!” His movements are stiff. Every breath he’s taking strains his body as if just the sheer effort alone should have made him pass out long ago.

“-Star-” 

She snatched the bag containing the pearl- but that’s not what she’s reaching for. Her fingers close around the glass vial that Marbus had picked, the same one she’d dipped into the ocean of stars. “Look-” She quickly grabbed his hand and wrapped them around it. “The stars, Marbus, I got it.” Her words could hardly make it out. 

His eyes flickered, shifted. With the other hand, he could hardly lift it anymore. The once orange color of the lava that held him together had already dimmed. With each movement, cracking filled the air- he was breaking himself to reach her. It shook, trembled. 

With his knuckles, he reached her face and wipes it away. Not her tears. 

The blood on her chin. The god’s. Grayed stone finally creeps into the very tips of his stalagmite nails. 

And that’s the last thing he ever does. 

Papa said he would take me to the pool tomorrow

When the god came, Asmoday had plunged into the Spiral. Though she hardly remembered doing so. It’s so cold. 

He’s taking me to the city hall, there are lots of stuff to read there

She stared at the body in front of her, on the other side of the wall. It shapes, distorts him as if he was underwater. His hand frozen around the vial of stars. His arm stretched up to touch where she once had been. He lies on the steps, so close to her. 

That’s where he gets his stories from

The moment she reaches out to try and pull him in, the god would be there. She knew because there was a white light hanging ominously across the small moat that surrounded the steps to the Abyss. 

He said once, a beautiful golden chariot dragged the sun across the sky

Her throat hitched and she struggled to control herself. There was still the pearl she had to get back to. The king was waiting. Rhinedottir. Dainsleif. Khaenri’ah. But Marbus was still on the other side. 

One day, the chariot fell, and one of the wheels crashed into the world

She stared at him, long enough that her vision began to make him move. Hard enough that his limbs hardly looked like limbs, his face, hardly looked like him. He’s so gray. 

The people found an injured man and took care of him

He should be orange. Red. That’s all she ever knew him as. Lava, fire, he should be burning with life, and yet if she touched him now, he’d be cold. 

!They fixed the chariot, and with a burst of golden light, it flew straight back into the sky

He should have never gone with her in the first place; or maybe she should have waited. Marbus insisted she wasn’t ready yet. And now he’s dead. Where did it all begin? With the choosing ceremony? With Rhinedottir? Her brother? Or was it from the moment she was made? 

But it left the man behind, and some say he still looks up to the sky, waiting to go back

A scream was building in her throat, the pressure growing the longer her eyes stayed on him. He still needed to come back with her. He needed to come home. 

. . .

.Papa’s home

Chapter Text

Rhinedottir pushed her food from one side of the plate to the other, scooting it back and forth. When she’d told one of her students to make something, she hadn’t expected a small cake. Never mind one that looked so good. 

Sitting alone in the palace lab, she stuck her fork into the chocolate and golden lava spills out. Her stardust. It’s sweet. When she’d made it back to the lab, there’d been a small letter and a box addressed to her. Upon opening, she couldn’t help the warm feeling from crawling up her chest. 

You’ve been working hard, Master. This is a small gift from us to you. We’ll follow you wherever you go! 

 

Your students. 

Some of her smarter ones must have figured out what she truly wanted by now. Long had she given up the desire for the crown- a child’s dream, perhaps. But a god? That was something she wanted to be the first to achieve. And with one so infatuated with her, it should be easy. 

Yet she’d never touched on that subject with him. It felt somehow wrong, to use him for her own ends, even though he did consent to it. She wasn’t sure if he knew what that meant, or if he knew how serious she was being about studying him, turning him into something more. 

But for now, the most that did happen was her primordial human project, when she’d taken some of his blood to work with. So technically that child would be his. Or theirs. Alone in her lab, she couldn’t help the smile as she stabbed her fork in and took another bite. She glanced at the clock. It’s two. 

Dainsleif would come searching for her the moment he walks into her empty home. Which would be in half an hour. If she wanted to avoid his questioning look upon finding her sitting here alone eating a cake by herself, she needed to finish this quickly. 

But what harm would it do to savor her students’ work for a couple more minutes? After all, the other forms of starlight she’d taken had come in pills. And here she was, surrounded by all their effort and passions. To have come this far, all the way here to the top, by herself. She could relax, the gods won’t be knocking on her door this very moment. 

Her mind drifts, first to the prototypes on the tables, then to the blueprints she still needed to double-check. Her students had forgotten to erase the chalkboard after drawing one giant checkmark across it, which meant they’d all copied the calculations down in their notebooks. The lab itself could use some cleaning. 

Pierro. Immediately, her mood drops, thinking about that old man and his words. What had been a small disagreement in the drawing room of the palace led to a full-blown argument in the king’s court immediately after. She defended her work and the purpose of alchemy first. Then one thing led to another and she’s defending her students, their work, as well as her background, and then accusations for trying to usurp the throne or cause division among the court, by none other than the sages sitting on the other side of the eight cornered table- their nation’s star. 

She was sure in the back of her mind that Pierro had never intended for her to stand against the horrible insults and slander being thrown her way. So many people saw it that day and the sages’ reputation nearly plummeted alongside hers. And when the old man had finally taken the verdict of exile gracefully, they still didn’t stop. 

. . .

The door clanked shut, letting a resounding echo through the silence that followed. 

Her heart’s pounding wildly but she’ll be damned if she ever let her face falter for a moment. Some of her own students sitting behind her were already becoming more infuriated. It wouldn’t do anyone good if she were to lose her composure. 

“We have a witch in this court.” A man with spectacles and a piercing gaze tossed down more of her work onto the table. “I plead with Your Majesty, how many more will be exiled because of her?” He turned to the people on the edges, to merchants and peasants and those who’d come for a free show, “How many more sages will be voted out of this council before you all will be calling us back?” 

She leaned forward, on her elbows. “I must say, you might need to work on your persuasion skills if you want the people’s and this court’s favor.” Her blood is boiling. “If you wanted their support, you should have paid some mind to what they need. Ten years, my dear sage. In ten years, what have you achieved? What have you done to bring Khaenri’ah out of the coup’s aftermath?”

“We put our hands to work, we rebuilt this nation and steered it from the course of falling back into ruin!” 

“With what? Your flimsy excuse for a crystal ball? If it’d been a little more credible, I might have believed it. But what did you do to solve the many issues that plagued us? Poverty, disease? I’m still taking on some side jobs to cure patients after they’ve exhausted all other methods. Let me remind you, doesn’t this fall within your line of work?” She doesn’t stop the bitterness in her voice. “Why then, are a third of my students and I, running around, picking up your slack?”

“We’d lost too much manpower due to you and your damned tongue. Everyone here knows that you are the main reason why the number of sages are dwindling. You’ve ruined our reputation, spreading needless rumors and challenging us at every court their Majesties hold now.” 

“Might I remind you that we all in this court, have the duty to uphold a just and fair system. The people are allowed to vote and their Majesties are the judge and gavel. Meaning, we all are held to the highest of expectations-” Her eyes drift to some of the sages behind the one she’s talking to. “-because how can the people trust us, if we’re all fraudulent, greedy and thieves?” 

“Are you implying something, Lady Alchemist?” 

“Merely stating a fact is all, common sense.” 

“Common sense is knowing that the path you and your students walk defies the laws of heaven themselves!” The old man’s growing exasperated with her. 

“The gods have eyes-” 

“Are you so selfish that you can’t see what will become of us-”

“You’ll bring this nation to ruin!” 

A grating chorus of echoes drowns her ears and murmurs ripple through the crowd. Her head aches. This was the last thing she needed today. Some of her own students were getting restless too, despite her instructing them to remain calm. Of course, they weren’t to blame. She fixed them all with a glare. The commotion grows louder. 

So unruly. They must have too much time on their hands. 

A sharp strike of a hand brings it all to a halt, the sound of rings slamming against wood echoing through the room. 

Rhine glanced up. 

Her Majesty is glaring at one side of the table, and thank goodness it wasn’t aimed at hers. “I would like to remind you,” she began, her voice like that of a chilled dagger. “That all who sit on this Council have an example to set and an image to hold for the people.” She swept her eyes across, making sure she’s heard. But she gives a firm look when she catches hers and nods. Refute the claims. 

“My beloved nation.” Rhinedottir stepped back, hoping that her message would reach everyone. “It’s true that the path I walk on with my students defies the laws of heaven. But allow me to ask, when have we ever confined ourselves to them?” 

Her voice rings into the air, up to the banisters. 

“What god, do we worship? Was this nation not built by human hands, by ourselves without any intervention from the divine? Did we not prove ourselves just as capable, if not more, than those who worship? Why do you think, the lands above call us ‘the pride of humankind’?” 

All eyes are on her, waiting, hanging on her words in silence. 

“It was freedom. Pure, unfiltered freedom. Here, we follow no gods but ourselves, we welcome those who turn their backs on Celestia and those who are cast out by the people above. Look at the marble in this palace, take a glance at your homes, the streets. Remember the summer festivals and everything in between? Do you understand how far this freedom has taken us?”

“This is-”

“Are we not happy, here in Khaenri’ah? All of us sitting at this eight-cornered table, have dedicated our lives to making this nation thrive. We stake everything we have and hold dear for you, our people. And the additional burden we carry is to carve us a place on the map, so that we may stand in pride with the Seven nations above.” 

One of the sages moves to stand, but one look from Her Majesty was enough to shut him up for good. 

“Our goals, all of what we’ve done so far, would not have been achieved if not for the freedom and our will, our desire as human beings to survive, to do better, to live despite all odds in a world where the rejection of heaven used to mean a bolt from the sky. But as humans we all are still victims to the base instinct of division. We fight amongst ourselves, and on our own we have the ability to bring this nation we cherish so much, down in a single instant.”

She pulled out a contract- on it scrawled her signature. 

“This is why I’ve made an agreement with one of the sages.” 

Hushed whispers fill the room. 

“With Her Majesty as a witness.” 

Another commotion stirs through the crowd above. The sages at the table and seated behind them gaped, their eyes popping out of their sockets as the rest of the eight corners merely looked on with disinterest or with a raised brow. His Majesty glanced at the Queen, if only for a moment. 

“To Pierro, the former Royal Sage, that was just cast out. I’ve bound myself to him and to all the sages with a promise, that my students and I will stand with them should the day ever come when this nation will be marked by the divine. I take full responsibility for my actions and the consequences of what I do, and should I fail in my duties, my head and the heads of my students will be mounted as a warning for all who dare to follow my path. Moving forward, from this day onward, I will be working with the sages, if they will have me, to stride forth and bring our nation to the glory that their Majesties and all the people of Khaenri’ah deserve.” 

She slams the paper down in the middle of the table. 

“We build towers that reach the sky only for it to crumble due to ourselves. Glorious, beautiful civilizations thought they’d last an eternity only for war to leave them in ruins. Let Khaenri’ah be the outlier, let the people overcome the worst of humankind. We’ll be different. We’ll end our division here, with this contract.” 

Her eyes swept the room. 

“People of the stars, will you walk this path with me?” 

And a roar is her reply. The sages glare, but half of them are already looking at her with sparkling eyes; the same as her own students on their first day. 

. . .

The courtroom was almost empty and most of the Council had probably gone home. 

“Master Rhinedottir, I submitted some of my calculations yesterday, could you go over it just in case I-”

“Of course.” 

“Master, how did you speak like that? Can you- you teach me?”

“Did you finish your work first?”

“Master-”

“-can you-”

“-tomorrow-”

“-the funding-”

“-gears arrived-” 

“-out of parts-”

“-warehouse notice-”

And once again, she’s trapped in a little crowd of her own students. Each of them held a notepad, chock full of ink and whatever they’re working on. Like birds they flock around her. She’s hit with question after question, her mind spinning, whirling, switching from one subject to another as her hands are quickly filled with pens, paper and clipboards. Data, files, schedules, reminders, everything comes simultaneously right in the middle of the courtroom. 

She’d barely stepped two feet away when they rushed her. 

After about half an hour, they finally leave, some for the lab, some for home. With all of their needs fulfilled she breathes a sigh of relief and starts packing up her own papers and carefully puts the contract inside her bag. 

“Like bees to a hive.”

A cold voice pierces the air and she snaps up. “Your Majesty-”

“I already have my hands full dealing with one child,” she says, an easy smile on her lips. “You’re inhuman dealing with almost twenty at the same time.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” 

“You handled those sages well.” 

“It comes with practice.”

The Queen smiled, drawing closer. “You should do well to keep one eye open while you sleep now.” 

“I already have someone doing that for me.” 

“No wonder you look finer than our marble home. Are you putting your students to work then?” 

“No, Your Majesty. They need their sleep if they want to impress me.” 

“That never seemed to stop them.” She gives a short smile. “Especially one.” 

Rhinedottir felt a pang of blue like the sting of thorns. “She wouldn’t listen to me on matters that didn’t pique her interest.” 

“It seems so that even her own brother couldn’t keep her under his eye.” 

At this, she wanted to prod for more, as if the Queen wanted her to ask about why he was suddenly brought up. It wasn’t out of bounds for her to lead a conversation away from a subject and towards something she needed, a slow etiquette that worked in Her Majesty’s favor. 

“I should expect him to hold something to the king akin to what we have?” 

The Queen laughs, bright yet tinged with sophistication. “Their lines aren’t so blurred. They know where they stand with each other and yet my King has mused that one day, his most prized possession would turn on him.” 

“May I be so bold then, to suggest that His Majesty is afraid?” She’s finding their conversation growing into honey and sugar. A pleasant exchange after unfeeling formalities. 

“Fear drives their whole relation. My King fears betrayal.” The Queen glances at her. “And you…”

“My knight fears His Majesty like a man would a god,” she answered. 

“Though I must say, it’s slipping, isn’t it?” 

Rhinedottir knew what that meant, and it was dangerous territory to cross over into, even on such a friendly conversation like this. But where fear drove the King and his Captain’s relationship, trust drove the Queen’s and hers. “Out of all the Guard, Sir Dainsleif is the most loyal. Every breathing thing in this nation knows that, and anyone who steps foot would learn within an hour. His reputation still stands and his will never falters.” It was the people of the Black-Star that knew what he truly did to gain his position. Those at the table fabricated a narrative that was easier to consume en masse, of a knight that kept the streets safe, and for the children, a dashing hero that fought off their nightmares. 

Dainsleif never had trouble obliging to their demands, to the image they made for him to keep. Him and his poker face, his monotony, gave the allure of a person shrouded in mystery yet a comforting constant that the people could rely on. There were others in the knights and in the Guard who’d served the Royals far longer, but even their own merits didn’t hold against someone younger, quicker, someone with seemingly nothing to lose. 

Rhinedottir designed the candidacy posters herself. She remembered half-thinking about ruining it, after all, they were still rivals then, fighting to prove that they were better than the other. But what fun would it be, to stand alone at the top with no one to tease? Especially about all the girls and boys their age, then, vying for his attention which fortunately for him, was never a problem. His residency was a secret, save for the Royals, up until one day he decided he couldn’t be bothered. And that’s when Rhine knew Khaenri’ah was the safest it could ever be. 

The Queen smiled thinly. “And yet you have him wrapped around your finger.” That trust is placed back. 

“To the best of my knowledge,” Rhine spoke slowly. “He’s a cold, calculating man, you know what the Council says, Your Majesty. Give the Captain a list and by sunrise it will return pristine with all names crossed. In spite of that, he’s still a bit of a fool.” She allowed a twinge of amusement. “An infatuated one at that. If ever he held any resentment towards His Majesty, it’d be long abandoned by now. 

She studied her for a moment, piercing blue eyes plunging into her golden ones. Time and again, Rhine had brazenly thought of what it’d look like to stand beside the Queen in all their glamour. Dark hues of the nightsky scattered with stars as the white clouds of heaven and the sin of human greed bedazzled their people. Perhaps that day might come sooner than later. 

Because the Queen gives a slight chuckle. “If you think Sir Dainsleif’s a fool, you should have been there during the coup my King led. He would have become the next Irmin if anything happened to me.” 

She remembered. That feeling as a little girl when she watched them in the surgical tent. The hungry look in his eyes made him seem beastly, yet there was a certain fear that laced them whenever she gazed directly at him. As if the Queen was an addictive hallucination he sometimes couldn’t understand, a drug that both satiated and made him hunger for more. She remembered thinking then, how much she wanted someone to look at her the same way. 

Now here she was, standing before Her Majesty again, who seemingly had forgotten all about the little girl that blew up the kingsguard during the coup. Rhine had so many questions. Almost like there was a need to fill something she’d been missing. To ask if Her Majesty remembered. She’d kept her respective distance and the image she’d made for herself followed loosely in the Queen’s footsteps. 

Instead of trying to figure out how to cross that divide, she smiles. “You see His Majesty in the Captain?” 

“Perhaps in another lifetime, our roles would be switched, Gold. I have no doubt in your loyalty to us despite the growing ‘evidence’ the sages are presenting.” 

“How do you find them?” 

“Trustworthy only to a certain degree. My King and I have plans to replace some of the older ones with… people who are more reliable.” 

“They have eyes for your throne?”

The Queen grins, almost laughing at the idea. “They wouldn’t dare. Though I would say some of them have been getting bolder.”

“Was there a trigger for it?”

“Some of our more experienced sages divined a warning from the gods above.” Her expression turns slightly grim. “And we know of what happened to others who came before us.” 

There was Enkanomiya, Sal Vinadgynr, and one so ancient that virtually all knowledge should have been lost to time. From what Rhine had gathered out of the tomes and drawings that made it into the Abyss and to Khaenri’ah, all had pursued knowledge of beyond to some degree, whether it be a desperate struggle to survive or a whisper of curiosity that pushed them to gain it. All were marked. Struck. Erased by water, and buried under snow. She reckoned there should have been many more. 

“We have a choice before us which I know you've already figured out from your little speech today." Her Majesty stands. "We fight. Or we run. Now I must ask, as Khaenri'ah is now, do you think we have the means to face the gods?" 

Rhine swallowed, wondering what the Queen could mean by that. Perhaps she truly was asking for an opinion. Or perhaps the answer would prove something that would have her executed before dawn. She briefly wondered how Dainsleif would react to that. 

She glanced at the woman before her, patiently waiting with her soft dark eyes that swirled the night sky like paint. Trust. Rhine debated for a moment, then settled on an honest answer.

"We have a chance. That is better than nothing, but the call is not mine to make, Your Majesty.” Slowly, the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “Have you consulted with others of the Council?” 

“You are the first. I ask that you keep this confidential until it is brought up.” 

“Of course.” And that meant from Dainsleif as well. It was no trouble- there were still a great many things he didn’t know about her. 

The Queen nods to her. A cue for dismissal and a change of subject. “My son hasn’t seen you in quite some time. He’s still playing with the rope you used to climb into his bedroom window.” 

Ah. That. After running from the Abyss trying to get the Little Prince home, she’d forgotten the very damning evidence that implicated assassination or something much, much worse. It was extremely unlike her to fumble on matters that blurred the line between the legal and illegal. She remembered thinking to grab the rope before she jumped back out. But her mind hadn’t been clear. 

Because it’d been on Dainsleif. He’d gotten hit more times she could count and when she leaped up with the wind current, all she could think about was that horrible state she’d left him in. Her concerns were validated after dropping off the Little Prince, and coming back to him almost stumbling on his feet. He rarely ever did, in all the times she’d seen him work. 

Thank goodness the Queen had found the rope first, and immediately thought of her. 

She smiled in good humor. “I wouldn’t mind him joining my students for their field tests if it weren’t for the dangers it posed. We’re all working to the bone, Your Majesty.”

“Then I’m afraid our Captain must stay on babysitting duty for a little longer. When you find the time, grant him a little reprieve, won’t you, Gold?” 

Dainsleif would show up at her home sometimes with remnants of the Prince’s roughhousing on him. She smiled at the ‘kick me’ that he’d scribbled on the back of Dain’s armor with ink, and the dents on his knee guards when he decided they made for perfect drums. 

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” 

When Rhine stepped back out into the halls, she found it already dimmed, with every other candle having been put out, save for torches that lit the path for knights on patrol. It was quiet, almost somber, out of place, after the heavy discussion in the room she just left. There were so many paths that their nation could take. She wanted war. And perhaps it was fueled by a deep pitted anger that she could never find the origin of. Some flame that drove her to put stars in tubes, to spring the blueprints on her desk to life. 

The gods, she thought weren’t all that. A vision could be given to anyone, it was a blessing, a chance to become something more, to transcend a person’s humanity. Rhinedottir wanted none of that. They had the means to reach for the divine without their blessings, and she would be at the forefront of it all. 

That is, if the Queen decides to take that course of action. 

But for now, Rhine only needed to make it home. Dainsleif should be waiting at her place by now and if not, he should be in his office, still working through a mountain pile of reports that always managed to reappear each night. 

She kept a brisk pace, until another set of footsteps caught her ears. 

“Gold!” And that grating old voice comes back for another round of taunting. 

Sighing, she smiled bitterly before turning to face him. “Yes, dear sage?” To her amusement, he’s barely holding it together, red in the face and wild in the eyes. 

“You’ve humiliated us, this is the last warning we are giving you- leave this palace or tonight, we’ll be taking matters into our own hands. You’ve gone mad, your unnatural contraptions, all that you do, will ruin Khaenri’ah!” 

“Is there any reason to shout?” 

“Step down and we’ll let you go without putting you down in the dungeons. Your students will suffer no consequence, but all your data, all your research need to be left behind. If you don’t want to do any more damage to this nation, then-”

“You seem a little… emotional, dear sage,” she mused. “Would you like a few moments to calm down? Take a breath?” 

This however, only reddened his face more. She thought he might actually combust on the spot. 

“Do you not understand?! There's still time to stop, to reverse all that you've done, to erase the divine's mark on our nation! They're coming Gold, and human genius and innovation will not be enough to stop them!" 

"You think the gods are indestructible, they're powerful enough to sink nations to the sea only because you believe it so. In all your years, I don't think you've ever met someone who truly feared nothing." She speaks evenly, sharpening her tone into that of a knife's edge. "Tradition is all you know, you fear change, you'd rather cling to your old ways with a death grip than let go and allow us to hurtle towards progress." 

"You can't deny that we've managed to keep this nation alive, you ride off our divinations and rifle through our files for whatever heathenistic contraption you think of next. The stars are not something you can control, Gold. You want the sky in your hands without knowing you're wrangling the lives of the people below them." He moves closer, anger pulsating like that of Durin's heart. "You're pulling too many strings, all at once, and this nation will collapse from the loom of fate that you've undone!" 

The shouting falls into silence, as she regarded him with nothing but pity. Pity, that he could never- the sages could never understand, that to survive, if they're ever to have any chance at all, they must continue to change, adapt, to become something that stood on equal footing with the Seven Nations above. This was so much more than her own selfish desires, than the delight of a working machine or the biological success of a fetus in a test tube. 

How high can humans go, without the restraint of heaven? 

But he could never understand. And he knew that he'd never get through to her. 

It was too quick for even her to comprehend. A flash of silver in the moonlight, an arc that swung down, straight for her chest. 

A sword. A clang that rang through the air. The sage's knife goes flying and clatters to the ground, echoing through the empty hall. 

Dainsleif aims his sword at his neck, eyes brimming with fury, a rage incomprehensible that she's never seen before. 

And nothing became more clear than when she put a hand on his raised arm, and lowered it. The realization struck the old man's eyes- that nothing and no one could stop her now. That she had not only the Queen's favor, but the King's, and his most trusted guard. The people's knight, the Captain of the Black Serpents, all wrapped around her pretty little finger. 

"So you would rather," she begins, allowing herself to smile freely. "Cut the tapestry of the world yourself?" 

The sage, assuming he wasn't thinking, moves for her again. Dainsleif presses the edge of his blade into his skin. "I'd advise you to remain still, lest you wish to draw blood from your own body." 

"It is her who should be in chains, locked up, behind bars, she's a threat to our nation. Don't you understand?" 

"As it stands, without any evidence, your argument does not hold." His voice was a monstrous quality that seemed so far removed from himself. "I could arrest you immediately, for the charge of attempted assassination of a member of the Council, battery and assault against a knight and another member." 

The sage continued to protest. "She's in violation of-" 

"Khaenri'ah knows an unprecedented peace, but the laws implemented by His Majesty in the beginning still holds. One that I'm more than familiar with, Lord Sage." 

For a moment, the sage’s eyes burned into her own, hoping, praying, wishing that she might die of sudden heart failure or disappear altogether. Neither of those happen. So he only turned and stormed back down the hall. They watched the man fade away, growing smaller until finally, he disappeared behind the door at the end. 

It was Dainsleif who spoke first. “Are you hurt?” He’d turned roaring shadow back into a soft, simple man, the one that always looked at her with eyes of a dog, waiting for whatever order came out of her mouth. 

“I’m fine. I thought you’d gone to my place by now.”

“Paperwork,” he answered. “Couldn’t stand it anymore and I had to get out.” He frowned slightly, his eyes glancing down the long hall. "What did he say?" 

"The usual. And I may have overestimated his temperament." 

For a moment they stood silent, with nothing but the moonlight as their witness. He's beautiful, his soft blonde hair like that of a cloud and his delicate skin, jagged and cut like stones on a cliffside, worn by waves. From the many years of his service to the Eclipse, all the things he'd seen are carved into his very essence. 

And through all of this, he never once looked away from her, his blue eyes, that she now knew for sure- held the lives of civilizations who thought they were eternal. 

"You didn't speak a word at the Council today," she accused, with a hint of amusement. 

He doesn't catch on, his cheeks reddening into a fluster. "I would have come to your defense, but Her Majesty took care of that before I could," he stammered. 

"I'm teasing. You may be the most feared man in the nation but one look from her is worth more than a hundred bodies you drop. And threatening the life of another Council member in public wouldn't do your image any good." 

"They know my image." 

"Yes, but I'm sure the people don't want a reminder of it. Let them believe in their dashing knight in shining armor a little more, won't you?" 

He scoffed a little. "That brings all the more hassle to me." 

"Too many love letters and confessions?" 

"None that I accept of course." He sighed, clearly unhappy. "If only my sister was here, so much food wouldn't go to waste." 

"Why not pass them around your neighborhood?" 

"I've been making the rounds nearly everyday, and I'm not about to start with my knights," he replied, as if the paperwork, the prince, the tree, and the near death silence from his sister wasn't already killing him. "I could care less about the public's opinion of me, but my image has to remain as I am for my knights." 

"It wouldn't hurt to give them some encouragement." 

"No. It can't be me." 

She blinked. "Dear Captain, your image was ruined when you slipped on wet cobblestone, went crashing to the ground in full armor and brought half your knights running. Halfdan thought you finally expired." 

He glared. But to her adoration it became almost a pout. 

"A little food from their darling Captain won't hurt. If you think fear should be keeping them in line then you're failing miserably."

His eyes widened. "They talk about me?" 

"You're hard on them, I know that. But they think of you fondly, much better than the other captains. I'd even wager they'd follow you wherever you go." 

It’s another moment of silence as he mulls this over. His expression shifts, changes into a conflicted one as he sighed. 

“Come now,” she pulls him by the arm, back towards his office. “I’ll help you with some of those reports.”

“No.”

She ignored him and continued on; that habit of refusing help stuck to him like a parasite.  

. . .

A knock comes from the door just as she drops the empty plate into one of the lab sinks. Her heart swells, a slight smile tugging at her lips. Dainsleif must have finally stumbled his way back to the palace and she was ready to reward him with a small kiss on the cheek. In all honesty, she loved the way they turned pink each time she did. And how it’d leave him stuttering on his words for the next hour or so. It’s not him. 

Queen Alberich stands at the door instead, a pensive smile on her face. “Gold,” she says, her smooth silken voice like that of the moon. 

“Your Majesty.” She quickly lets her in and shuts the door, wondering just what she was doing here so late. Her heart quickens slightly. The Queen rarely paid visits at a time like this which meant whatever was on her mind, must be something serious. But before Rhine could get in another word, the blue-haired woman speaks up.

 “That student of yours, Asmoday was it? Made quite a bit of a ruckus in Celestia. The sages that I could rely on reported a ripple in the sky- theirs, not ours- and they guessed at what could have happened.” 

At this, Rhine’s heart pounds a tiny bit faster. 

“The ripple was caused by the strike of a god, and unless she has wings on her heels, no one could have escaped it.”

Her throat dries. 

“Or there may be some mightier one that she met, one loud enough to shake the sky. An anonymous report slipped through our son’s window. Bells, Gold. Choir and an orchestra manned by a thousand angels in the sky. Have you ever imagined a sound like that?” 

She blinked. “No, Your Majesty.” But already, dread had begun crawling up inside of her. A feeling she was not familiar with at all. That, and an overwhelming worry for one of the only other person she’ll truly love in this entire nation. 

“I’ve put some of my sages to work, trying to figure out where she is. A little baffling honestly, they can see the gods above and glimpse into other worlds, yet one girl under the false sky leaves them scratching their heads.” 

“Are there any leads on her now?”

“Asmoday fell from Celestia, then disappeared. That’s all we know. Unfortunately, the entirety of the Abyss had drawn back.”

The pit of dread only grows. Her thoughts run away imagining a brutal fight taking place, all for her. Dainsleif wasn’t there, and neither was she. Neither of them could protect Asmoday if it came down to it. 

“They wouldn’t say where they were going?” 

“We’ve tried to call them back, but it seems as if all the portals into and out of the Abyss are sealed completely. We can’t reach them.” The Queen moves to sit down on the table. “My King has our land surveyors moving out to the very outskirts of this nation as we speak. What they found is cause for concern, but we agreed on keeping it quiet, even for those at the Council, except you.

“All entryways into Khaenri’ah have been sealed. Meaning there is no escape for our people should there ever be a need for it, at least none that we know of. In addition to that, it seems as though all locks were put on the inside, made from Abyssal material. Even though all our communications have been cut off, like us, Gold, our relationship with the Abyss is founded on trust. With the amount of seals placed all around Khaenri’ah, and the silence, they must believe that we’re capable enough to fend for ourselves, should the day ever come. And it has. 

“It is more than likely that by now, the divine are coming.” 

Silence became deafening and her palace lab had suddenly become the tiniest room in the world. Rhine could hardly breathe and for the first time, she saw the Queen gazing at her with a hint of desperation. Of a human emotion that made the image of a commanding ruler fall apart at its very seams, because Her Majesty was looking to her for an answer. 

“The Council-” 

“-Knows of this. They are gathered in the courtroom, now, waiting for you.” 

“I apologize for not-”

“-No one knew and I’d only just sent the message for it an hour ago.” She holds open a hand to her. “But I need your answer now. There’s no more doubt about the will of heaven, I only ask for your rationale and reason. Do we fight, or do we run?” 

And there came the choice, and she’d already known a long time ago which one she’d pick. But at the same time, there were still so many factors going into it. She needed time, if only for a little more. Breathing in, she fixed the Queen with her own eyes. “What would you like to do, Your Majesty?” 

The Queen narrows her dark abyssal eyes. “I’m prepared to take responsibility for the consequence of either one.”

So a backup plan. But what does that include? If it all came down to the worst scenario possible, Rhinedottir didn’t think it would be a far stretch to say Her Majesty would abandon the people to save her family. The same case goes for the King, if not more. 

“If we choose to fight, I only have one condition for it.”

“And if that’s not met?” 

“I withhold all my support. I and my students will leave Khaenri’ah by ourselves, and face the gods another day.” 

The guards wouldn’t be able to stop her and with Dainsleif as the Black Serpent’s captain, they wouldn’t either. She’d leave them all in the midst of confusion and panic, and disappear. And losing the Royal Alchemist of life itself wasn't an option. Everyone in Khaenri’ah needed her. 

Her Majesty gives a wry, knowing smile. “What condition?”

Rhine’s breath catches. “I want the King’s Hound for myself, and the permission to change him as I please.” 

A peal of small, delightful laughter fills the room, merry and amused. “You have it. But what exactly are you going to do to him?” 

“That is something I must discuss with the Captain first.”

“Then I must ask my King for his consent. It’s his soldier you’re working with, after all.” 

She nods, and follows the Queen down the hall. It should have been silent, so deep into the night. The wind should have blown through from the open windows and the palace should have been asleep. But as they drew closer to the courtroom, murmurs could be heard from the other side and it seemed that even the air they breathed was holding its breath. Whatever the decision was made tonight would be heard by half of their nation. And by dawn, all would know. 

Every seat is full in the courtroom when they arrive, more so than any other time in her life. Her spectacles and machinery beforehand were only mostly for gathering influence, nothing of real importance that attracted a large crowd but never had it overflowing. The small fights and disagreements on policies, laws, every single one of those spats were now miniscule in the face of such a choice. 

Almost immediately, the quiet muttering turns to her, as it always did, whenever the doors opened to let her in. 

"The Alchemist-" 

"She's going to-" 

"Her words will-" 

"Is it enough?" 

She sits down, even now, still reveling in the attention she's getting. It was one thing to hear about her influence from others, to overhear tales of her silver tongue that began rumors of her using dark magic to control large crowds. It was another to see the truth of it. Her influence here, had reached every part of the nation, and as the King begins to speak, she realized that the people were willing to do whatever she said. 

The royals had no power here, neither did the sages, and anyone else at the Council. No, the people- half the nation gathered here in the middle of the night on such short notice- all were hanging onto her words. To her choice. 

And she chose war. 

She made it known to them. The sages wanted to focus on running still, to save as many of the people they could. More resources should be put into safeguarding the people, they say. If there was nowhere to run, if all the exits out of their nation are sealed, they could still go down. Construct bunkers and load in supplies, weld them shut and use star cores to power them. It would last generations on end, and they could regrow food inside as needed. There wouldn't be enough time to make enough room for everyone, of course. 

So it was agreed upon that all the children of Khaenri'ah would be locked in, given everything they needed to survive long after their nation was gone and wait until the stars opened them again generations later.  

It sounded more like a coffin than a safe haven. And even if this succeeded, there was no telling what the gods would do to crack them open. The mere thought of being trapped inside while all of heaven battled the seals and bolts was already enough to have that plan shot down. 

Needless to say, not much convincing had to be done for them to start working out the logistics of fighting. There was the cost, at which the Minister of Commerce wasn’t all too happy about, especially knowing that most of it would go her. She’d already spiked the cost of nearly all the metal in Khaenri’ah just with one prototype of a Field Tiller alone. All funds would go towards her machinery, and there would be a push for the people to work in her factories. All her blueprints and prototypes would need to be finalized, checked for safety, every precious metal they find was set for use in the warehouse. 

The Mask promised an easy and effective transition for the people. He was the man behind Dainsleif’s image; pulling strings, accepting bribes and weaving words down to the slightest shift in tones under a facade. He was a friend, albeit a dangerous one.

Now here at the table, he wore an easy, deceptive smile, one he every so often flashed at her. 

She smiled back a knowing glance. How exhausting it must be, donning a thousand faces to keep everyone happy. But he was efficient, as everyone in the Council should be, and Rhine figured the propaganda posters would be up by dawn. 

“-ask the diplomats we hosted for support-”

“-No sane follower of the Seven would give it to us, do you understand the gravity of that request?” Their Messenger finally chimes in, flabbergasted at such an idea. Rhine almost laughed at the face he made. Younger than all of them, more new to the world than the rest, he was Dainsleif if Dainsleif had hope, a more optimistic version of him. She found his sense of righteousness adorable. 

“Even then-”

“-They are under the jurisdiction of the gods while we are not. Celestia had already brought our nation’s trial to a close and any interference to their judgment means they will die with us.” Despite how delicate and boyish he looked, his words and voice were anything but. The one thing she noticed long before anyone else was the way his eyes darted around, observing, learning from everyone on the Council. 

“That’s only assuming we fail-” 

“We are alone in this matter.”

“Is that your sense of pride?” Rhine cuts in with her mocking tone. 

He wheels around to her with a furious look, as if the instant she said that, it ignited something in him.“We will not endanger the people of the Seven. They do not have the means to face their Archons let alone all of heaven, though I’m sure if it were up to you, I’d already be halfway across Teyvat, calling on them to raise hell.” 

She gave him a polite smile. “We don’t need them.”

Despite that, it only enrages him more. He’ll be fine, much better than the sages at least. The boy did a good job of holding his composure and she had a sneaking suspicion he’d learned that from her. 

Queen Alberich lets her voice carry through the courtroom. “The Messenger will have the final say.”

“Any and all foreign relations will be cut-” 

Perpetual silence for the Seven above. It was better this way; if there was any chance of their people escaping, they’d pass in unnoticed. Quiet. The people and gods above would not know of a burning land beneath them and all the rest who would never make it. 

Then came the matter of the fight itself. All the people at the eight-point star had varying amounts of followers. She had twenty-one students, twenty now that Azzy is gone. And despite all the rumors of their fraudulent behavior, the Sages held the most, right next to the Black Serpents, but she knew that the knights alone with their physical strength would not be enough. So the Sages would arm themselves with books and tomes. Knowledge of this world were all inked out on the yellowed pages, forbidden from the lands above, because they held 6concepts and ideas that were impossible to bring to life in Teyvat. 

“-the power lies in its ability to remain incomprehensible. The knights and every abled person can provide support on the ground- a distraction. They can wear down the gods, give the sages an opening and-”

She didn’t need to look at Dainsleif to feel the glare from across the table. 

“My knights will do no such thing.”

Rhine leaned back in her chair and watched. 

“Surely you know that if the gods decide to pick us off, the chances of winning are none.” In other words, they want to hide behind lines made of people and his soldiers. “Only the Sages know how to decipher and use these tomes and books-” Which would have been fine if he didn’t add. “-so we’ll need those who understand and will continue to do what they’re best suited for.” 

“If this is the only plan you can think of, then I suggest you stay within your field of knowledge,” he seethed. “I doubt, Lord Sage, that you recognize the cost of what you’re suggesting.”

“We can reduce the lives lost if we are given your cooperation and the people’s- the sages will work to end this quickly, provided that the gods remain preoccupied. The knights-”

“You have no right to order my knights when they are under my command, and I do not consent to them being disposed of so easily.” 

The Sage smiled and looked towards the King. “I only need His Majesty’s.” 

At that, a stunned silence fell upon his shoulders. 

“Your knights will be the Sage’s to command.”

The absolute fury in his eyes is enough to burn the palace down. But the King continued to speak over the shocked silence that fell upon the court. 

“Your only duty is to follow orders, in that you have done well and Khaenri’ah has thrived. If we are to win this war you must continue to do what you are best suited for. Changing this will only add to the issue we have at hand.” His Majesty, as if to satiate Dainsleif ‘s anger, added, “You will still have command over the nation’s troops, it would be as if there had been no difference at all.” 

“Your Majesty, if we follow this plan, my soldiers will-”

“You defy me Captain?” 

“No, I-” 

“Do not forget where you stand in this court.” 

The queen stands, sending a hush over the table. Slowly, her gaze shifts to Rhine. "Gold, you look like you have something to say.” 

And the theatrics were over. She didn’t want to speak so soon, seeing Dainsleif so worked up was a rare sight for her. She fixes him with a smile 

“I think it’s no problem at all.” 

His expression shifts into shock. Disbelief. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide.

“It’s a marvelous idea, Lord Sage. But surely, some form of your knowledge can be… distributed?” She watched as they narrowed their eyes in suspicion. Several looked to each other, not knowing what to do or say. 

“As the Captain said before, you know well the cost of what you’re asking. Blunt spears and swords cannot pierce divine skin. If you want them to provide cover for you, will you not at least give them a fighting chance?” She points her gaze at him. “Or is your pride worth more than the lives in this nation?”

The Sage grew pink and flustered, stumbling on his words. “You-” 

“I suggest that every weapon in our nation is fitted with the knowledge the Sages hold, gods are not immune to concepts and ideas, to their people’s beliefs. Yet that alone cannot bring one to their knees. Not only would a tomed sword buy you more time, but the additional damage would greatly ease all the burden weighing on you to succeed. And in a war, every tiny spec helps…”

She could hardly contain her smile. 

“If only, you are willing to shoulder that burden now.”

The Sage’s fists clenched. “That would be wasted effort and time-” 

“Since I presented the idea of course, I must bear some responsibility. I will uphold my promise and I and my students will help you enchant the weapons alongside our own work.” 

The man scoffed. “Twenty people will hardly make any difference. You’re already stretched too thin.” 

“You’d be surprised, Lord Sage, at how much they’ve accomplished in lieu of your… distance.” 

“We will not-” 

The Queen waves a hand. “Gold makes a fair point and her reasoning is sound so far. And I will make it clever to everyone present; The Abyss have sealed all entry and exits in Khaenri’ah. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and our people, I know, will not cower in their homes and allow the divine to raze us to the ground. But I will also not allow them to charge at a god with a sword that will break the moment it touches their skin.”

She fixes him with a glare. 

“Gold is willing to offer herself and her students to help ease the burden off your shoulders as she promised. Are you suggesting now, that you are going to dishonor the Former Royal Sage’s word to her?” 

A silence falls upon the courtroom. Rhinedottir almost laughed in delight. The Sage’s hand is shaking in fury as he hid it in his robes. 

Rhine holds out a hand. “I look forward to working with you, dear Sage.”

Put on the spot and with no other choice, he shakes it

Fingers trembling for the world to see.

Chapter Text

“Is there any difference?” She pulled up another spear onto her work desk from the pile on the ground. In front of her, Dainsleif brought the tip to his eyes, inspecting it.

“It feels the same.” He tossed it into a finished crate.

“Do you doubt me?”

“What?”

“I hear it in your tone. You don’t think it’ll work do you?”

He swallowed before answering. “I have trust in your abilities and you are the most capable person that I know. However, I don’t have faith in a spear made by outdated and rusted metal.” He glanced at her. “You had to sharpen it before you could start the work.”

“Appearances do play a role in this world, I won’t lie, so I see why you think this. But that crate right now is more durable than the armor you wear.” She grinned. “Just you wait. It will look beautiful.”

He looked at her, then at the dull, ugly arrowheads that barely reflected the light in the room. “Of course.”

“Well then, maybe yours won’t be so pretty after all.”

“And why is that?”

“The ideas and concepts in those books only make up half of its abilities. The Sages enchanted them to do damage.” She screws the arrowhead on and stands up, spear in hand. “Do you know the other?”

Slowly, a curl of gold light burns into the metal, glowing, humming.

“Belief. That can be anything as long as they believe in something enough to make them pick up a weapon and swing with absolute resolve, that is the other half. Belief is what kills a god.”

He stared at the spear, the light growing stronger with each second that passes, illuminating her face. “And what do you believe in?”

She remained silent, a sliver of a smile tugging on her lips. The spear grows brighter but it’s clear she’s not going to answer.

“What would you have the people believe?”

She sets it down into the crate. “The injustice of it all. Our progress and advancement was never a deliberate act to upstage or prove to the gods we don’t need them. They only came to that conclusion themselves and look where we are. Even the Sages aren’t that prideful. They can’t stand to see us become better than them.

“People of the Seven can already transcend humanity and the gods have already been merciful once by accepting and gifting them tokens that are nothing more than a surveillance device. They still had at least some form of control.

“There is none for us.”

Dainsleif nearly reeled. To know it was one thing. To hear it spoken out loud was another, it made the dread and anxiety more permanent.

“Your mercy is a rare gift to those under your sword, but that will not be enough to stop them, even if I were to enchant it a thousand times over.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

Her eyes lit up, a kind of shine that always made him uneasy from the very beginning.

“Once it’s ready, I’ll just have you sit still.”

His brows drew in concern. “Once what is ready?”

She giggled, then moved to clean up her desk.

“Rhinedottir, once what is ready?”

“You’ll see.”

A small level of uncertainty clouded his mind. He’d already placed his trust in her, but just how far will she run with it? That conversation she had with him in between rusted gates and leviathan-sized machines came back to him. And to get to her that day, he had to walk past her students’ lab. Full of all the experiments she’s working on. The mutations, the test tubes, the equipment that even he wanted to steer clear of.

His head spun, throbbed, when he thought of it being used on him.

“And when will I see?”

This makes her pause. Her eyes look past him thinking. “I’d say in a month’s time, we’ll be ready. How well your body takes it will depend on you.” She continues, wiping up little shards of metal. “But I’m sure you’ve got that covered.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Why so many questions?”

“You have permission to mutate and change me however you please, don’t I at least deserve to know the details?”

She smiled before answering. “You’ve got a strong will, a mostly sound mind, not to mention that inhuman loyalty of yours and the fact that you’re a god.”

Her eyes scanned him. “And you’ve got a good physique.”

A slight bit of heat crawls up his face. He coughed.

“Now come. There’s a new place that just opened up near the city walls.”

He blinked at the sudden change of topic. “But-”

“You’re off duty and you’re still at the palace. Beside that-” She squeezed his arm. “You’re as tense as a brick wall. And let go of your sword. No one is going to charge in here, weapons swinging.”

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth. “The Sages would.” If it weren’t for Rhine, he would have cuffed them then and there… and the rest of them too. Even setting aside the fact that the Head Sage tried to attack her, he couldn’t stand them anyway; always so smug, looking down on anyone and nearly everyone like heaven to people.

To put it in simpler terms, they were insufferable.

“Which is why I’m taking you somewhere they won’t frequent. At the very least, stop touching your sword so much. You look skittish.”

“You have too many enemies.”

“As do you.”

He frowned. “The difference is that I know how to use this and you don’t. What would you have done if I didn’t happen to walk by that very moment?”

She only laughed and tugged him forward.

Despite the late hour, it seemed as if half of their nation was still up, walking the streets, laughing, smiling as chatter filled the cool air. Ever since that decision at court, things have drastically changed. Buzzing with work, most homes came alive with clanking metal, smoke spilling out of chimneys, as armor, weapons, and machines were mass-produced. Day and night, he watched his neighborhood turn into a war factory.

The tailor he went to for his uniform waitlisted all his orders to sew clothes for the soldiers, to thread gold and starlight into the Sage’s robes.

The baker his sister loved so much now used the ovens to heat metal for armor and sharpened knives. Anything with a hint of shine stacked in front of their home, waiting to be melted, and his daughter- Sugar, was it?- now held scratched knees from tripping over and into them.

He sighed and tried not to think of it. But after that declaration, the reminder was everywhere.

“We’re here.”

It’s a bar. He stopped.

“Dainsleif, you are twenty-six and you haven’t had a drop to drink.”

“I’m a knight.”

“You are off duty,” she says, exasperated.

“I’m the Captain of the Black Serpents,” he replied, trying to emphasize his position. “That knightly code extends to every aspect of my life-”

“-That code was broken when you stripped-”

“-Rhine!” he hissed.

“And then you kissed me at the ball-”

“-Enough!” He had half a mind to turn and leave but then she grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell of alcohol. He coughed. The second thing he noticed was the fact that it’d suddenly gone quiet, all eyes on him.

“I almost forgot. Take off your armor and helmet.”

“No.”

“You look like you’re here to either arrest or kill someone.”

“They should know I’m not.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and announce that?”

Shutting his eyes in frustration, he removed the helmet, slowly, before turning his head away in shame.

Rhine raised her brows.

“What?” He winced at his own voice, suddenly aware of how much he stood out among the people, to her. He could care less about what they thought, but he’d disintegrate if she sneered or uttered a sound of disgust. She’d never done that before but-

“Adorable.” She smiled and turned around, pulling him past tables and people. His face is burning. It’s too hot in here. On instinct, he looked to the windows, only to find them open. Then had he gotten sick again? A fever?

And then he’s led up the stairs to the second floor, away from prying eyes.

He slumps into a seat as she sets down two bottles and glasses.

“The lighter one’s for you-” she pushed the green one and a cup to him, before sitting down.

“Where’s yours?”

She merely laughed. “I don’t need one.” Holding up her white bottle to him, her eyes found his. “Now watch this.”

And before he could blink, she slammed the top of the bottle against the table, letting the cork ricochet away before she chugged half of it in less than a second. He stared at her in bewilderment and shock; a reaction he knew she loved.

“Don’t do what I just did, take it slow.”

He blinked.

“Here-” She grabs the bottle from him and uncorks it, before pouring some for him into his glass.

Reluctantly, he took it into his hands, not sure what to make of the clear liquid. The smell alone was already enough to tighten his lungs, a kind of sourness that engulfed his nose. Maybe it’s better to get it over with, after all, if he couldn’t finish this one bottle, Rhine looked like she’d be more than happy to take it. And speaking of which, how high was her tolerance?

It’s tart, sour, cold, all at once. He didn’t know what to make of it, just that his hand was instantly covering his face to hide whatever the hell kind of expression the wine was pulling his muscles into.

Over that, her bright, sweet laugh reached him. “What’s that you’re hiding, Captain? Blush?” she shouted.

“Keep it down!”

She put a hand on his and tugged. “Then let me see that face.”

“No-”

“You’re so pink, Captain. I wonder whose the lucky girl?!”

He slammed his hands down, finally deciding his exposed face was better than whatever the hell she was going to shout next. Unfortunately, the act made the waitress behind them flinch, her face going pale, eyeing the sword at his hip. Rhine’s words come back to him. ‘You look like you’re here to either arrest or kill someone-’

He grabbed the scabbard of his sword sheath and unbuckled it, letting it clutter to the floor. But it only terrified the people around them even more when he reached for it. So to compensate, he quickly snatched her bottle and took a giant gulp.

The liquid singes all of the nerves and taste buds inside his mouth. The sheer repulsive taste of her alcohol burns his whole mouth and begins setting fire to his throat.

He choked, grabbing his mouth to keep from coughing it out. Some of it goes down the wrong pipe. He choked some more.

“Dainsleif?!” Rhine’s shocked voice reaches him as she tries to take the bottle away.

Everyone’s staring at them now.

“Wait, don’t-”

He chugs the rest of it, shutting his eyes in disgust and pain before slamming it down onto the table.

There was hardly anything that could leave a woman like Rhinedottir speechless and for a whole minute, she fell silent with a flabbergasted look on her face… her pretty, pretty face-

“Dainsleif?”

Right, she’s probably upset that he drank her bottle. He raised a hand, calling for another one from the waitress, who thankfully was no more confused than fearful.

“I really don’t think you should-”

“The next one’s for you. Since I drank yours.” The room is suddenly too light. He rested his head against a hand, trying to swallow back that awful taste. “And just what were you drinking?”

“Hard liquor.”

He turned the bottle. Ninety-six percent alcohol. He just about dies on the spot.

“I… I think we should get you home, all that is going to hit sooner than you think.”

“I’m fine, I don’t feel anything.”

“No, really,” she moves to stand, flagging down the same waitress. “Can we get some water?”

“Rhine, there’s no need.”

She quickly pushes the glass to him. “At least wash the taste out, and then we’ll get going-”

“Rhine.” He snatched her arm. “Just sit down. I’m fine.”

She huffed in disbelief, something rare.

“I’ll have water for the rest of the night. You came here to unwind, not to take care of me. Just do what you want, I’ll be the sober one.”

There’s conflict in her eyes. She glances at him, then the exit downstairs, contemplating what to do.

“Sit down,” he urged.

“Fine. But the moment you say something off, I’m taking you home.”

He made a mental note to bite his tongue, speaking of which, his mind was starting to become mush.

“Well,” she says, glancing over the long list of drinks posted on the wall spanning several boards. A grin tugs at those cherry-red lips. “I’m going to try everything they have.”

There must have been a hundred or so different types, that with the addition of whatever she wanted to sprinkle in for a slightly different version. Sky blue, field green, and blood red drinks filled wide-rimmed and narrow-tubed glasses, topped with candied fruit. He watched in astonishment as she happily drank it all, giving him a brief description of the taste each time.

She didn’t need to, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever drink again. But he loved it nonetheless, hearing her speak.

“-this one’s sweeter than the rest, probably because there’s less alcohol in it. Perfect for you, if you like sweet things. But if you want to get drunk faster, then that hard liquor is what you should go for-”

And he can’t stop staring at her.

The amount of gold on her was nearly impossible, the only thing he could think of that could even begin to encapsulate her was stained glass. But only because the sun would fall through and give her hair and eyes that shine, the way the dim candle-lit chandeliers were doing now. She glowed with an ethereal quality unmatched by heaven itself.

For a moment, it’s like she’d stepped out of some old cursed painting to ruin him, herself. And whatever sin he committed to deserve this was completely worth it to have her moving, living in front of him. Yes. A painting with colors of gold, clouds, and blood, the kind that needed to be covered with a dusty sheet, lest some unfortunate soul become ensnared forever.

He would happily rip off that veil and stare right into her eyes.

Ruin me.

“-hello? Captain?” She waved a hand in front of him. “Sir? Ma’am? My Lord?”

“Okay, stop-”

“You alright?” Her brows drew in concern. “Is it the drink?”

“No, I’m alright- continue.” He cleared his throat, trying to seem normal. He’d never admit it, but he wanted to stay here a little while longer… and stare into those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes-

“If you’re up for it, why don’t I put in a request for some music?”

“Huh?”

She nodded towards another table full. “A group of musicians came here for a little study trip all the way from Fontaine.” An amused laugh escapes her. “Now they spend their days here trying to make ends meet.” She pulls out a bag of coins.

Before he could say anything, she’s already sauntering over. Beautifully, of course, in every sense of the word- with candlelight casting a glow on her signature white dress, laced and hemmed with gold. A strange, melancholic feeling washes over him.

Not long after, one of them, a stout cheery man with too much red from drink counts down to a bright tune on his trumpet. The rest soon follow and like alcohol to glass, a liveliness fills up the tavern. Scattered clapping, shouting and the sound of shuffling feet fill the air. He watched them get up. Sway. Before long, people were swinging their partners or whoever had the fortune of being close enough to be swept up.

Rhinedottir included.

Who of course, had everyone’s attention. The chief Alchemist of Khemia, Gold, tipsy and dancing with anyone who asked, sometimes switching between people three times within a song. She’s swung, spun, swayed and dipped low, her dress folds swirling in one direction then the next. If his knuckles hadn’t gone white from gripping the chair his head would have gone with it.

Her partners were nothing of note.

Until a sly, deceitful man stole her from another

The Mask of the Council lowered his head, whispered, Rhine laughed. Hid her smile into his chest.

Dainsleif frowned. He’s too close to her, and what could have possibly been that funny? So much that she would hide it from everyone including him, except for The Mask?

They began to dance a swing, much to his dismay. Their feet moved in rhythm, movements more natural than the flow of water. Her bright laughter and giggles continue to dot the air, punctured by his smoother voice to tell another joke.

“Sir? Would you like more water?” the feminine voice held concern.

“They’re dancing way too close,” he replied, finding his C’s and S’s more thin.

“I’m sorry?”

“What right does he have, to lean down to her like that- look. He’s breathing on her neck.”

“I believe they’re just dancing.”

“-look at the way he looks at her… like a dog. Or a snake. You know, maybe he’s not so bad, she’s laughing, she’s happy.”

Rhine is still smiling, pulled into that man’s chest, arms around her waist.

“Is that your girlfriend?”

He blanks out. That term seemed too solid and besides, a mere word is not enough to encapsulate the storm of envy and jealousy inside his chest. It ached, throbbed in his heart and head.

He shook his head. “No.” Wobbling, he finally stands up, leaning heavily on the table. “I’m hers.”

It’s the waitress’s turn to blink in stupor at him. He paid it no mind, kicking his sword to her feet and dropping five knives from inside his armor and boots, hidden in case of emergencies. They clattered loudly to her feet.

“Take care of this.”

A short silence. “You’re her what?” she finally asks.

“Her girlfriend.”

He stumbles towards the dance floor, leaving the waitress dumbfounded.

There are too many people on the edges, watching the dancers. Especially with Rhine being the centerpiece whose swinging into oblivion with a grin on her face. Thankfully and to his luck, the song ends. He quickly shoulders his way past.

She spots him first, and within a second, her eyes widen in concern. “Dain-” She crosses the floor in two steps and catches him in her arms. He didn’t even know he was falling.

“Rhine. Let’s dance.”

“No, you’re clearly drunk, I’m taking you home.”

“She’s right, Captain. If you were to dance with her in your state, our dear Alchemist might as well be twirling with a sack of stone,” the Mask teases, nodding a bow and eliciting a giggle from her.

He glared, then cupped her face, ignoring both of them as he pulled her right to the center. Her cheeks flushed once more, this time for him.

He stumbled a little, stepping on her feet and swaying on his own. She glanced around, trying to find an exit for them but he held her there. “Look at me.”

“Dain-”

“Please, Rhine,” he begged. “Look at me. Not at anyone else.”

Flustered and pink, she obliged and her golden gaze pierced into his own. Gods above she’s beautiful.

Her brows raised, probably at the alcohol on his breath. Or something on his face.

She’s white and gold, always white and gold- like an angel or freshly laundered bedsheets or honey and sun rays. She steadies him as the song melts into a slow, sultry tune, trying to turn his sway into something intentional.

And still, Rhine tossed a smile to the Mask and muttered something akin to ‘thank you.’ But what was she thanking him for?

“Rhine.”

“You get so whiny with some drink and a bit of jealousy.”

“Drunk, yes, jealousy no.”

“Then I can look at anyone I wish-”

“-No.”

She laughed, a bright merry sound that filled his ears with ecstasy, better than the music above them. “Oh Captain, you’re adorable.”

“Why does it sound like that?” he blurted.

“Sound like what?”

“It sounds so good… when you say it. You say it in- in that way- like you’re teasing me. Like you enjoy teasing me and that’s all you’ve ever been doing-” words pour out of him, gliding straight past the stoic filter he had on 24/7.

“What else would I be doing, my knight?”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“You called me your knight. Yours. Say it louder than the music, make sure everyone knows that I belong to you.”

“Earn it first.”

“Why?”

“I won’t say it until you earn it.”

“Then why did you say it before?”

“Because you were being cute.”

“I’m anything but. I shouldn’t be.”

"Hm, but the things you’re saying tells me otherwise. If you were an open book before, then you’re a propaganda leaflet right now.”

“You were talking to The Mask weren’t you? You were helping him with the posters-”

“I haven’t been doing anything,” she laughed a little. “I’ve been by your side the whole time.”

“Liar.”

She leaned in, her breath falling upon his ears. “I never lie.”.

He suddenly reached up and held her face between his hands. “Then tell him.”

“What?” She looked adorable with her cheeks squished- like a squirrel…

“Tell him. Tell everyone, I’m yours-” He repeated.

“-oh dear.”

“Please, Rhine, tell them, tell him. I don’t want his or anyone’s hands on you other than mine-”

A slight blush tints her cheeks. “-okay you need to sit down.”

“-I want everyone to know!”

“Dain, hush-”

“I am your girlfriend!” He declared, loud and proud.

She whirls around to The Mask. “I’ll pay double your overtime if you keep his reputation intact,” she hissed.

The man raised a brow, smirking in amusement. “You care about his reputation?”

“If you were an honorable man, you wouldn’t take her money-”

“- No, Dainsleif-” She pushed him back into the crowd. “-I care about him!”

“You care about me?”

“When have I not cared about you?!”

“When you made me drink that vile poison-”

“-It was medicine to heal your broken bones!”

The Mask laughed at her trying to handle him. This irritates Dainsleif even more, so before she could do anything, he sweeps her off her feet. There. Over and done with; if she refused to say it he had to take matters into his own hands and do it himself.

“Dain!”

He set the flustered alchemist down in a hidden corner on a wooden crate. Then immediately topples over before catching himself in front of her face, before crumbling to his knees.

“Tell them I’m yours,” he slurs. “Please, please say it.”

She sighed in frustration and adoration. He bit his tongue, trying to stop himself before anything else flies out and his fingers grip the crate, hanging on for dear life.

“I… I apologize for my behavior, I’m out of line and I’ve broken the code that everyone trusts me to follow-”

“-You’re mine.”

Rhine’s golden eyes pierce his own. His heart leapt.

“The drink must have made you forget the other times I’ve said it.”

Gods, her smile is the brightest thing in the tavern, her lips the most enticing. And the way her dress clung to her body in all the right ways, he fought the urge to pull her in and-

He slaps himself to the ground, the audible smack echoing off the timbers of the staircase.

“Dainsleif!”

She rushed down to pull the hand away from his reddening cheek which had begun to sting. “Here, get up-”

“No, no, Rhine. The floor.” He averted his eyes. “The floor is nice.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then sighs, muttering about paying the Mask triple.

“You should lay down.”

“On that hard wooden floor? My spine won’t be happy with me.”

He snatched her hand and yanked her into him. “There.”

“Dain- Get up.”

“You don’t have the authority to order me around.”

“Isn’t your reputation the most important thing to you?”

“Hardly.”

“Let go of me.”

At this, he goes silent, but his grip on her loosens ever so slightly. She takes the chance and pulls herself up. His arms remained in the air, as if waiting for her to finish stretching and then come back. She doesn’t. Instead, she grabs on and yanks him into a sitting position.

“How are you feeling?”

He groaned. “Lightheaded.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Does it matter?”

Finally out of patience, she cups his face in her hands and pulls him close to hers. Molten sun stared right back at him. “We’re getting you home.”

He covered his face with his hands, trying to rub away whatever made the room spin. With Rhine’s help, they manage to get him up on his feet, though he swayed heavily and put his weight on her.

The lights were too bright in the room, the tavern too warm, and it was enough to get on his nerves. He hates everything. And everyone but her. All too bright, too merry, the waitresses running around, serving drinks. Men and women doing their duty by pulling their partners onto the dance floor, the Fontainian musicians continuing to play a beat that fueled the spark to the explosive.

He was useless, incapacitated. On second thought, did he even pay the waitress he told to look after his weapons?

“Rhine-wait…” He pulled from her arms and stumbled back towards the corner where he last saw it. “My weapons.”

“We can come back for them tomorrow,” she replied., continuing to drag him towards the door. “They’ll keep it safe since you’re the Captain. They know how important it is-”

“No.” He cut in as he stumbles into Rhine. “If someone tries to hurt you I won’t have anything to protect you with-” He hissed as the door opened, allowing cold air to hit him in the face like a brick wall.

“You don’t need to-”

“The best offense is a good defense… no wait.”

“Well I am sure you’re more than capable of handling whatever threat is in the streets tonight,” she assures. “With or without your weapons.”

“That’s right,” he slurred, completely contradicting his previous point. “I can. And I’ll tell you how since you might panic if you don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I have faith in you-”

He raised two barely clenched fists to her face when he thought that it might seem like a threat to her if it was too close. So he moved it back a little. “Number one. Silent but deadly.”

She nodded, bewildered and amused as she pulled him along.“Of course.” The street was still full of people, even at this hour in the night, and they were beginning to catch some unwanted stares.

“Do you know how strong one punch is? When I was a trainee, one of the older knights almost put me to sleep, and that was after I got knocked the whole week to prepare for the test. Now imagine that on a murderer who has none at all.”

“They’d go down quick,” she says, indulging him. They paused, letting a few people with carts full of metal pass by.

“There wasn’t any real need for it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Killing them is more efficient. Problem-solving at its finest.”

They make a turn for the street he lives on, the lights beginning to fade away into dimmed lanterns and soft chatter. Houses were still open, children roaming free while their parents worked tirelessly.

“Number two.” His foot shot up into the air, startling her and someone carrying a basket of rations.

“Excuse us-”

“-Airstrike.”

She quickly tapped his boot and he, thankfully, put it back on the ground. “Elaborate.”

“If the target is slightly bigger or if my arms are too tired, I find a roof and then drop down on them. Just as efficient. Gets the wind in your face. View is nice until you have to jump.”

“And if I were in danger would my attackers be waiting for you to climb up and then kill them?”

“No. But a kick to the face works for close range.” He points down. “These are steel boots.”

“I can see that.” The entire thing was made of steel. She finally spots the small house, darkened and almost run-down. How long has it been since she last came here? How long has it been for Dainsleif? He always stayed at her place now, the couch in the living room was his bed and no matter how much she insisted, he’d never slept on hers. Even when he came to her with both eyes barely open.

But despite that, she knew he still had the keys. She rummaged around in the small crevice in his shoulder guard and pulled it out.

“If all else fails,” he continued. “There is number three.”

“What’s number three?”

“Sacrifice.”

“You don’t need to go that far,” she snorted, unlocking the door.

“I’ll put myself in between you and whatever comes at you. It could be anything. Better to be safe than sorry.” He smiled. “I’m pretty durable, stronger than steel. I promise I’m a good shield.”

“Yes, you are.” Pulling him inside, she shuts it before leading him to the dusty kitchen table. Rhine sneezed.

“I can take a lot of hits.”

“I know.”

“Punch me.”

“What?”

“Punch me. I have to prove it to you.”

“Dain, I’m not doing that, I know you’re strong enough to take it.”

“But I want you to-”

“-drink some water.” She shoves a glass full into his hands. Thankfully, he does just that without a second thought. She takes it back and heads toward the sink to rinse it out but he’s gone when she turns back around.

“Dain?”

She finds him standing in the doorway of Azzy’s bedroom. Immediately, her breath tightens. There’s a forlorn look in his gaze, cast over the scattered books, toys and withered garlands that lay strewn about her floor. The bed was unmade, and just about everything inside was covered in a thick layer of dust.

“I hadn’t touched it since she left.”

Rhine wouldn’t either. The last day they saw Azzy felt like a precious memento kept above the fireplace, untouched, a memory that should only be looked at because to do otherwise would break its fragility. It was stagnated, almost preserved, and the reminder of her still remained everywhere; in the alchemical books, in the dried herbs, in Durin. Her home had become Azzy’s second one, but perhaps the closest thing that remained was her brother.

Said brother had now gone still, deathly, almost. His expression froze over like a cold lake, and she didn’t know whether he’d storm out or weep. The latter seemed more likely.

He moved like the machinery in her factories, clanked his way in all his armor to her bed. Monstrous, almost, in the face of a room so soft.

No one would have ever thought Asmoday could be his sister.

Dainsleif leaned down and picked up a small, stuffed owl staring at it in a trance. His eyes glistened. A thick, heavy silence fell upon them, as much as the meaning behind the little toy he’s holding.

“For stormy nights.” His voice had gone hoarse. “For her moments of terror when I couldn’t be there.”

A weight fell on her shoulders but it’s incomparable to what he must be feeling now. She said nothing and allowed him this quiet relief, respite, in the little bubble that was Azzy’s room.

Rhine shut the door, and he finally moves, if only to slide down the leg of her bed, sitting on the floor. He inhaled deeply, trying to soak in the memories of days long past. Speaking of which, both of them had lost track of how long she’d been gone a while ago.

She opened the window, it creaked, then sat down with him.

“What was in your drink?”

“Just really strong alcohol, nothing more, nothing less.” She looked at him. “Why?”

He paused, brows drawn as if in deep thought. Another moment passed, he shook his head and tried to refocus. “I can’t remember what she looks like.”

She swallowed, her mouth going dry. “You will in the morning.”

“No- no,” His words slurred, the volume spiking and falling like jagged edges of a saw. “She has white hair. Pearly white hair and… her dresses-” His eyes widened, but not in realization. “What color were her dresses?”

Rhine got up and opened the closet, revealing just how stuffed to the brim it was, though she dared not touch it. “Her colors.” Pastels, bright, cheery, and optimistic yellows pinks and greens all mashed together to create a watercolor palette, only emphasized by the grass stains on each one. But that’s not the issue. And he seemed only partly satisfied.

“Soft, dainty features,” she says, Azzy’s face clear as day on her mind as she pulled up her full-length mirror. “Look at yourself, and take note of everything you see. Because she is everything that you’re not. She is everything you don’t nor care to stand for. " And now that she’s on this tangent, the words only continue to spill out like a dam.

“You told her to pick up a sword. Azzy refused. You made the night your own while she hid and cowered in fear, because you were never there. She loved flowers, cake, the sun, beautiful dresses that have pockets all over because they were useful for holding her alchemical equipment. She was intelligent, she would have become my successor had the King not chosen her. She was stubborn, she-”

“-She was happy.” He cut in suddenly, staring at himself, then finally, at her. “She was everything that we were not.”

Rhine stood motionless, holding the mirror.

“Are you happy?”

She couldn’t fathom how such a simple question left her tongue-tied.

“My sister- she got the best from us. Endurance from me and the brains from you. Then she made up for the fun and color I don’t have. Made up for your lack of a heart.”

He’s a sulking mess on the floor, drunk out of his head and rambling with words that were hardly coherent. If anyone looked at them now, they were pathetic; members of the Council reduced to reminiscing and getting sentimental in an empty child’s bedroom. But Rhine had to remind herself that Azzy must be grown by now, older. That all three of them must have changed. She would not be the same girl who’d left that early morning, and perhaps in the deepest pits of her anxiety, she would see her student return without a smile.

“Do you think we’ll see her again?”

And he’s asking for his own peace of mind. Because to dangle hope in front of a man whose supposed to lead his soldiers into a death march against the divine was tantamount to an eternity of torment. If she answered yes, he would search for her amongst the heads of heaven, though it would make no sense for her to be the one attacking her own home. If she answered no, he’d charge headfirst into every fight on the field with reckless abandon, because then, he really would have nothing else to lose.

“Did the Queen tell you that she’s-” Rhine stopped herself.

His eyes widened. “Tell me what?”

Disappeared in Teyvat? But if Her Majesty hadn’t, then there had to be a reason for it. And seeing the brimming look of need in his eyes, she understood that hearing it meant Dainsleif would have plunged himself into battle without any regard for their plans. He’d go mad. They can’t have that.

They needed him sane.

“Rhinedottir, what did Her Majesty say?”

“Asmoday is safe.” The lie tasted like poison. “She’s in hiding with her Lector mentor, the one who delivered her message to you. We’ll have to try to find our way out after this is over; she can’t open any of the entrances to get back.”

“Why didn’t Her Majesty tell me?”

“Sending a message would have your sister’s safety compromised, it was information available only to select members of the Council. Asmoday was my student as well, that’s why Her Majesty entrusted me to tell you.”

“I see.”

Another silence. Then he holds the owl up to her. She kept her hands at the sides; anything and everything she touches gets ruined. Asmoday was far out of reach now, perhaps her stain is gone too. But Dainsleif…

He’s still here, tainted. “It’s soft,” he insisted as if that’s what’s holding her back.

“I shouldn’t. It’s precious to both of you.”

“My sister would have wanted you to.”

“To what?”

At this, he goes quiet, thinking for a moment. “To become a part of our lives. If it weren’t for my stubbornness you would have held it long ago. You know she lets so few people into her heart, she barely lets me in, I practically have one foot outside the door at all times. But you… she’d pull you inside without hesitation.” He holds the owl up to her again. “She’s not here right now, so allow me to act on her behalf.”

Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms.

“I’ve said it once already. You make her happy, Rhine.” He pulls her down to sit with him, and she settles on the wooden floor, looking at her stuffed toy in his hands. It’s a little squished to one side upon a closer look, but it only means that Dainsleif had made the right call when he bought it for her. He pushes it into her hands.

He’s right. It’s soft.

“I miss her.”

He saw her eyes shine a little more. They held that usual glimmer, that life he’s so frequently blinded by but now it seemed as if someone had sprayed the sun with a little water. She’d never cried before, and he wasn’t about to let it happen now. “Keep it.”

The sun widened. “It’s hers.”

“For stormy nights. For her moments of terror when I couldn’t be there,” he repeated. “For her absence.”

“It gives me enough comfort to know that it’s here.” She stands up and gently places the owl back on her bed. “But thank you.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Heavy silence seemed to be all that frequented their time. He got up with her as she nodded him a goodnight before turning to leave out the door. He followed and opened it, still in a haze. His head is still out of sorts as she tells him to drink more water and that she’ll see him tomorrow morning. Between the alcohol and the memories in his sister’s bedroom, he didn’t register what happened until Rhine’s all the way down the street.

It hits him that he’s breaking code by allowing a woman to walk down the street alone at night. Cursing himself, he took off after her. Even disregarding that, he’s not about to just let her… leave. Not in that state.

“Rhinedottir!”

She turns around, her eyes widening in shock. He must look crazy, drunk and stumbling down the street after her, slurring her name. He might have fallen down a few times, but that didn’t matter. She’d stopped long enough for him to catch up and hold onto her tight, making her stiffen.

“-what are you-”

“Don’t go. You know I can’t stand my own home anymore. If I’m going to stay here for tonight, at least don’t leave me to deal with it by myself. Please. My room- it’s so cold. There’s nothing inside.”

She could have left anyway, there was no need for her to stay and he would have let her go if she loosened his arms from her. Instead, there was one sweep of a cold breeze, a moment of quiet, save for the chatter of their neighbors before Rhine fixed him with her golden eyes.

She said nothing, then nudged him back towards the house. The walk back was a little bit of a haze, the lights in their neighborhood, blurred and smeared. But soon they found themselves on the floor of his own bedroom.

Surprisingly, it’s clean, except for the blankets of dust. Something falls from his mouth, words that he can’t understand, a mixture of sounds and noise that she somehow made sense of. And then she talks back, and he has no idea what she’s saying either. In a brief moment of clarity, she catches snippets of their conversation.

“…and their God said, ‘Let there be light.’ They only have one God, and they revere him so much they conquer other nations for him. Just like the people of the Seven do. Angels exist, their heaven does.” A bitter smile tugs at her lips. “They, of course, can do no wrong,” she says condescendingly.

“What?” he slurred. “Where did you hear about this?”

“We saw into another world, Dainsleif,”she speaks softly.

He blinked, unable to process it. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“All of a sudden you’re sober,” she laughed. “I’m not. The Sages have told me everything they know. There are other worlds out there beyond the skies, something more.”

He hadn’t even thought about it.

“They worship your mother.”

The word didn’t sound right when she associated it with him, like a piece that wouldn’t fit. He knew what a mother was from the families down their neighborhood and from the ones he protected at night on duty, trying to get back home. Dainsleif had no mother, no father; only omnipresent beings who claimed themselves to be. His outright refusal was more than just spite and anger; parents have power over their children.

He’d be damned if he let anyone like that into his life. It would make him weak. Which meant he wouldn’t be able to protect his sister.

Then what if she comes back to him talking about their father with a smile instead of disdain?

"Pistis Sophia for your mother. Phanes for your father. Imagine that.”

“They will never be. I renounce them.”

“Bold,” she quipped, not even faintly surprised. “You disown the creator of this world. Phanes may not take this likely.”

“He has no right,” he snarled. “I raised her. Not him, not anyone else. I did and I’ll continue to when she comes home. I’ll become better, put an infinity of distance between myself and Phanes. Whatever he is, I never want to be him or take his place if he plans on it. He’ll never see me or my sister.” Bitterness dripped like a tap as he spat out those words. Resentment boiled over, bubbling up for Rhine to hear. Dainsleif inhaled, trying to calm down. It’s the drink. He’ll have to sleep it off.

She grasps his hand, running her fingers over his scarred palm.

“I should have been martyred. Not Azzy. She’s not a fighter, Rhinedottir, she’s never picked up a weapon in her life. What was I thinking, letting her go alone like that?” He buried his head into his hands, trying to rub away the drowsiness. “I let her go in a dress, not some actual pants that she might need. And I didn’t even know her enough to see that all those weapons must have weighed her down- if you weren’t there, she’d have dragged all of that into Teyvat. And what kind of idiot brother would-”

“Dainsleif, you’re overthinking this. If you hadn’t let her go, she would have resented you for it. Did you see her eyes when she got chosen by His Majesty? Even if you’d said no, she would have snuck out anyway.”

Her words do make sense and it’s as if she’d cleared some of the fog away.

“And I was there the morning she left. I would have said something if she couldn’t pull the weight.” She touched his shoulder. “You worry about her, that’s a hundred miles better than your parents already. You want to be better. That’s a couple hundred more ”

He slumps over her, wrapping his arms around her body. “You smell nice.”

It catches her off-guard, but she continues. “You remind me of the other world.”

“How so?”

“Their religion follows God’s son, sent down to show good to their people, and at the end of the road, he was to be crucified for the sins of the world. He shouldered every burden nailed to a cross and his death washed it all away. Their people were saved but the fact remained that the father sacrificed his son.”

“How did the son feel?”

“The Sages couldn’t glimpse far enough to find out.”

“You think I’m the son?”

“God sent his son down with a purpose and your father did the same. Now all that remains is whether you will die for our people.” Her voice lowered to a soft whisper. “Will you?”

He couldn’t answer.

“You wish you were martyred.”

“To take my sister’s place.”

“We all know that. What about our people?”

He swallowed, shutting his eyes as he felt her golden hair brush his face. The silence was all Rhinedottir needed to know- but the silence also added something else. He felt her hesitate on the question.

“Me?”

Dainsleif nodded. “You two and no one else.”

“You give yourself to the devil.”

“I know full well who I’m giving myself to. You think I’m a fool but I’m not blind to all the things you’ve done.” Dain pulled away, and looked her straight in the eyes, holding her head up so he could see them. “I give myself regardless, in spite of it. If you are the Devil, then I am Death. Those two go hand in hand more often than people think and we’ll do the same.”

The words fall from his mouth like a river.

“You, at this point, are the Sin of all Khaenri'ah,you shoulder the weight of everyone, Rhinedottir, because they revere you like a god. Should I tell them I am one, hardly any would toss me a glance- no, they don’t look to me, they look to you. You hold power over our nation through our people and you are telling them to take the path towards war instead of escape. You want this. You did this. But you’re not the Son.

“Because when the divine come for you, I’ll take your place. I’ll be crucified, not you, I’ll shoulder all the Sin you carry and die on that cross. So make me one that heaven could nail me to; out of iron and blood, like our homeland. Cover my sister’s eyes when they raise my corpse for the world to see, a warning. And maybe one day when my father comes down from heaven, the guilt of seeing me might compel him to earn that title. But before all that happens, I’ll trust you to look after her.”

He holds her face closer to him. She’s blurry and smeared in his vision. “That’s all I ask. Can you do that for me?”

Rhine’s gaze holds onto his for a moment before giving an apprehensive “Yes.”

“I may be a dog but I’m still human. And you’re not sure.”

Her jaw shifted, then she mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“When you die on the cross, you must be beautiful-” the abrupt change in her tone and voice makes him reel back, blinking in drunken stupor. “Hound? Snake? Perhaps some other monster entirely?”

He thought for a moment, and he remembered what she’d said about him all those years back when they were still rivals. Out in the fields, on a bright sunny day surrounded by gears.

“My body are the walls that protect this nation,” he repeated. “I’m a Serpent of the people, my poison is chained and the loyalty of a hound runs in my veins.”

Her eyes gradually brightened as she turned it over in her head. “Your body by itself won’t set you free, even if you do away with those chivalric codes, even if His Majesty lets go of you.” She gets up suddenly and opens a drawer in Azzy’s desk. “We must make you more-” Grabbing a pen, she rushes out of the room and begins scrawling notes on his kitchen table. “Something monstrous, a body fit for a god. Fit for the heavens to see, for your father. He’ll see what you’ve become.”

“Fit for you.”

And he didn’t know how he looked at her when it escaped his mouth. What expression remained on his face or whether she knew if he could understand what he’s saying. But a red tint grew on her cheeks and she gave a humorous smile.

“You lustful beast.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I am not the one who taught your eyes to feast on me.”

“But I learned anyway.”

“-the desire to grab, but not to hold back.” She drops the pen onto the table and leaned back on it. “Hound.”

His hands shook at his sides from the drink, gloved fingers trembling for her to see. By some divine moonlight- or perhaps herself- she seemed to be carved from the marble of the Eclipse, painstakingly chipped into the woman before him, her dress sitting loosely on her curves. From the top of her golden crown to her feet where life must grow, everything about her sat in all the right ways, enticing, luring, tempting him. He wanted to devour her whole. Then she tried something that shocked both of them.

“On your knees.”

He obeyed, kneeling onto the wooden floorboards in front of her. Rhine leaned down to meet his eyes, her nails tracing down his cheek and the line of his jaw. Fire burned and ignited on his skin, following it- she could have charred him for all he knew. Her breath fell like calamity on his face, on his neck, on his voice of all places. He could’ve died from it a thousand times over.

“We’ve only ever kissed once.” Her thumb brushed across his lips. “What was it to you?”

He remembered. “A game. A competition. When I could no longer deny how I felt about you. When I became your dog.”

“Dogs follow their owners to the end.”

“You said we’d be the only two remaining. It will not be,” he replied, as if to reassure her.

“The sky will fall and you already have, my knight. My first kiss was a promise of your devotion to me. The second time will be your death.” She lifted his arm and he stood on her command, pressed his hand to her waist; it’s soft, there’s only a piece of fabric separating his touch from her body.

He’s going mad. “Kill me.” His hand hovered slightly back, trying not to touch her. There’s the code he lived by- he’s a knight, he’s the Captain. There are certain emotions he can’t express and actions he can’t condone.

“I give my permission, dear Captain, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“I cannot- Rhinedottir, I-” He trailed off helplessly. The urge to grab and pull her in was overwhelming. “I’d rather you kill me, eat me alive than allow myself to…” He pushed her hand away and gripped the corners of the table, trying to balance himself, his body hunched over hers.

“What a hassle the codes are,” she sighed, letting it fall dangerously on the nape of his neck.

“Search me and take what’s yours because I cannot give it to you- roam inside and linger, then savor my heart on the floor in front of me. At least that way it can ease my pain of holding back.”

“You’re begging me to devour you?” She lifted his chin to face her. “You think I starve for you?”

“It’s my own craving I need to satiate, and you know by now that you are all that I cannot do, and cannot have. I’m in the palm of your hands but I can’t even claim that you are mine. You belong to no one but yourself-“He fixed his eyes on her. “So yes. I beg.”

In the quiet that followed, he doesn’t see the triumph in her eyes. Nor the shimmer of lust and desire. Nor the smile she couldn’t contain over the knowledge that he knows she could do whatever she wanted with him, and his faith and devotion in her would never waver.

Rhine would never become a benevolent god, she reveled in attention and praise worthy of one but she knew the fall down would be divine agony. But to him -to her Hound, her very own priest- she was the only one in the sky.

Chapter Text

A man sat at his desk stamping and signing documents for marriage, divorce, ledgers, adoptions and just about anything that might come into his pile. It was the same. Day in, day out, underneath the ground. Still, it was an easy job that paid well. It was enough to raise his small family with and he was content. After all, there was a certain pride, almost a smugness in him telling his coworkers, “I apologize. But my wife and baby are waiting for me at home and I’m afraid, you see, I mustn’t keep them waiting for too long. They’re missing me dearly.” 

The snide remark would earn a few eyerolls and more congratulations. He’d always been quiet his entire life but it was moments like these that made it nigh impossible not to gloat. 

He broke into an insane smile as he stamped some divorce papers. Suddenly remembering the contents of it, he quickly composed himself and tried to refocus. Still, the smile of a man who’d just become a father tugged at his lips. 

And when the clock finally struck six, he threw the most important papers into a folder, into his desk and flew out the door. 

Outside was a bustle of people going about their lives. Visiting market stalls, pulling wagons, rushing to dinner reservations. The streets were livelier, the fruit more colorful, and even the dull gray of the ceiling seemed to sparkle with the hope of diamonds. 

Because he is a father. He has a daughter and a wife- albeit, a very exhausted one. 

His pace quickened, hastily purchasing a few sweet drinks on the way back. 

When the door shuts behind him, the house is quiet. He scanned the room and found his wife dozing off on the couch. His daughter was sleeping in the crib next to her. 

Very quietly, he set the drinks down and carefully shook his wife awake. “Darling?”

She turned over, grumbling. 

“I’ve brought more of the stuff you like.” He lifted her up as her eyes opened.

“May I please…?”

“Yes.” He quickly reached back and grabbed one, popping it open. 

She took a sip. Smiled. 

His wife smiled. He can’t stop staring, watching her break into fits of giggling from the drink and the exhaustion. 

“I can always put in a notice for leave.” 

“No,” she whispers. “Don’t. I like it better this way. It means we get to sit here like this. Tired. Do you know being tired is the same as being drunk? Which means we can talk about anything we want and laugh.”

“What if you fall while I’m away? What if-”

“-you worry too much. Like an old, creaky man.”

“I’ll have you know my bones are in fine shape.”

“Your hair says otherwise.” 

“This again?”

“I jest,” she replied with a grin on her face. “She’ll look so beautiful with it when she’s older. Pearly white hair that shines like the moon. Pair her with a few pastel dresses and the bards will sing of her beauty for centuries to come.” 

“That’s a lot of imagining you’ve done while I’ve been working.”

“What can I say? All her beauty comes from me.” She poked his cheek. “Not you though. The white will bring out your wrinkles.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, turning her jabs at him over in his head. “Oh my back is throbbing,” he croaked out. “And it’s hard to breathe-” 

“What?”

“If you could be a darling and massage my back for me all day, everyday and bring me everything I need- perhaps take care of everything in my office as well and make sure my files are all in order.” 

A soft laughter filled the room as she took another sip. “It’s sweet.”

“Can you believe they’re selling these to inmates in Meropide?”

“The prison?”

“Yes. And the inmates have somehow refined it. We’re to be the guinea pigs they’ll sell to.”

Her eyes brightened. 

“If you should want… if you’d like, I can…”

“Well if you insist!” she murmurs, cupping his face playfully. “Three crates of their limited edition Fonta.” 

“Oh please…”

“Three crates, sir.” She pecked his cheek. 

“You can’t be having that much sugar.” 

“I can do as I well please, considering I birthed your daughter.”

“Our daughter.” He kissed her back. “Three crates it is.” 

. . . 

Her hand was the smallest thing in the world in his own. She hopped along, eyes wide as they stumbled through the crowd, trying to get to his office. There’s a tug on his coat. He bent and picked her up and she clung to him as he shoved his way through, trying to make it on time. 

“We’re almost there.” 

She patted his back and pointed at a small vendor stall. The smell of hot cakes and sweets had unfortunately wafted over to her nose and he knew she wouldn’t let up until she got what she wanted. Spoiled girl. But he smiled to himself, thinking that his wife’s sweet tooth must have passed down. 

After quickly shoving the toffee cake into his bag, he practically ran, weaving in and out of crowds until he’s fumbling for his keys to unlock the door. 

“You’re late.” Was the first thing he heard the moment he stepped foot inside. 

He raised the kid. “She got hungry.” As if on cue, she reached for his boss with stubby little fingers eliciting a warm smile from the old man. 

“Well we can’t have that now can we?” he said, pulling out some hard candy in his bag. His daughter immediately snatched it in her iron-tight grip. He handed him that morning’s paper. “Our Sages divined something impossible.” 

In big bold print, he read out ‘THE SKY IS A HOAX’. 

“It’s a bit of a stretch don’t you think?” he mumbled. 

“Gah!” His daughter replied. 

“I know. They might have been more believable if they discovered our world was in a loop.” 

His boss scoffed. “If you ask me, the Family pays them too much for superstition.”

“You’re old, it’s safe to say you may not be around to witness anything come to pass.”

“Watch your tongue.” He leaned back. “But there is a little truth. I leave the aftermath up to you,” he glanced at the baby in his arms. 

“Very funny.”

“Oh I’m serious. Tomorrow’s headline will be ‘The sky is falling down’. Where will you go?” 

“We’ll find a way. If the Family has any sense, they’ll understand that no one can rule over a kingdom of ashes.”

For a brief moment, the old man fixed him with an unreadable stare as if he was contemplating saying something. Then shook his head. “I’m sure you will. There’s a long life ahead of you and one that most people here envy.” 

His daughter chortled. “The source of their envy,” he said proudly. 

“What a perfect little family.” His boss kicked back and leaned into his chair. “You might be the happiest man alive. Gods know how you did it.” 

“A little luck goes a long way.” He set the paper back down. “Pardon me. I believe there’s a mountain of divorce papers to verify.” 

“Don’t smile when you stamp them.” 

He raised his daughter again. “How could I not?”

“Morbid.” 

He slipped into his office and set her down onto his couch before digging out the toffee cake. She sat nibbling, eyes full of stars. Her legs swung back and forth and his heart swelled with endearment and pride. 

And the only thing he did was stamp divorce papers. It was impossible to work with his daughter entertaining herself in the background, waving her hands in the air, rolling on the floor, tripping on the leg of a chair. Nothing much got done, and he never slacked off but perhaps today could be an exception. 

He grabbed a small picture book that he’d bought just for an occasion like this and slumped into the couch. “How about a story?”

She crawled into his lap and immediately he could almost see her head filling with colors from the cover. A stubby finger poked it. 

“That’s a wheel.”

She poked the corner. 

“Those are reins.” He flipped it open. It’s impossible for her eyes to get any wider but somehow it happened. “Do you know how we got here?” 

“Gah!”

“Long ago a god dragged the sun across the sky in a golden, flaming chariot. And behind him followed all three moons. They were sisters. And they loved him…” 

He figured she couldn’t understand a word he was saying yet. But what’s the harm in reading to her a little earlier? And besides, it seemed he had her undivided attention. 

“One day the chariot fell from the sky and one of its great wheels came loose. It burned, then it crashed into the lands below. A spoke dug into the earth, lodging it in place. The people below took in the god and fixed his chariot. But the moment it was complete, it leapt back into the sky…” 

The lazy afternoon slipped by slowly. The only noise in the room was the ticking clock and his soft voice. The sun warmed his little office, and a peace he never noticed settled upon them both. When he finished reading, his daughter had fallen asleep, one sweaty hand on the last page. 

“Perhaps the sky is false,” he murmured. “If I tell you now, will you remember?” He kissed her head. “That we got your name from the morning paper. That when we found we were having you, the Sages divined a galaxy from above.” He settled her into the couch, tucking her in with his cloak. 

“Andromeda.” 

. . .

His daughter is chewing on the small lion toy he bought from the market on the way home, tiny hands holding it with an iron grip. He sat on the floor with her, watching her eyes sparkle orange from the fire in the hearth. 

“Pa-” He tried. “Say Papa.” He’d been repeating the same thing for half an hour, diverting everything she does to it. 

She’s stubborn. “Gah!” She proudly takes the lion out of her mouth and holds it up to him. 

“That’s right, now say Pa-” 

“Gah!” 

A melodic giggle comes from the kitchen and his wife appears with two plates of their dinner. “You’d have better luck winning a chariot race at this year’s Sol Invictus.” She sat down and he took the plates from her and quickly set it on the coffee table. 

“Maybe I should sign up,” he replied, breaking off a piece of bread and putting it in her mouth. “That old man does it every year.” 

“I’m placing my bet on him.” 

He pulled her plate of food away with a dramatic glare. “I fix us dinner every night and this is how I’m repaid? How preposterous. How unfathomable. You may as well have killed me-”

“Come now,” she laughed, pecking him on the cheek and reaching for it. “If you still have the energy for theatrics then you can fold all the laundry upstairs.”

“Say you’ll bet on me.” He pulled it away. “Go on. Say it.” 

“I’ll bet on you… if you recognize us in the audience.” 

“Out of hundreds in the stands? With masks on?” He set it back down as she fed him a piece of meat. 

“Oh so you’ve murdered me in retaliation?” she echoed playfully, holding her heart. “You wouldn’t spot your own wife and child?”

“I’d find you anywhere,” he amended. 

“Liar.” From underneath the couch, she pulled out two masks, painted beautiful colors of pink, white, and gold. A mix of watercolor splashed onto the side of each face, blooming flowers and lilypads that spoke of the lands above. And on the smaller one much to his delight, was a splatter of stars and hues of a sky he only ever saw once. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing with our money?”

“Helpful is it not?”

“Beautiful.” He kissed her back, taking it. “The artist has a good eye for it.” 

“The artist? It was all me.” 

“My mistake-”

“-I suppose you don’t care for this.” She pulled out another mask from underneath, painted the face of a lion. Red hot flames carved and sculpted back into a crackling mane, with cross iron horns on each side, and a small three-ringlet chain fell across the face like teardrops. 

It stole his breath, his words, his heart. 

“I took into account your namesake from the papers. My husband, the Guiding Lion, our healer and protector… and revealer of hidden truths.” 

“All I do is stamp and verify documents in some dingy office,” he says, unable to tear his eyes from the beautiful work of art in front of him. “You’re amazing,” is all he could muster from the jumble of emotions bubbling inside. “You’re amazing- You…There’s-”

She smiled and cupped his face. “We’ll be able to find each other anywhere.” 

He practically smothered her with kisses, eliciting giggles and shrieks of laughter. 

“Please, not in front of her!”

“She’s busy with her building blocks, dear.”

With a single motion, he sweeps her onto their feet and she yelps in surprise- flicking down the little needle near the corner, smooth, swinging music fills their small living room. “It’s the bridge, sing with me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

Power and the money- He cuts her off with a short growl to the tune, finding her eyes as he serenades and waltzes her across the floor. Everybody’s runnin’ but half of them ain’t lookin’-

“Be thankful you have a good voice-”

They say I gotta learn, but nobody’s here to teach me-

She sways along with him, the most beautiful smile etched on her face, her eyes closed like the night he met her, drunk out of their minds, her voice like a sugary cocktail. I guess they can’t, I guess they won’t, I guess they front-

She’s heavenly.

-that’s why I’m out of luck, fool.

He twirls her around the room, exaggerating every movement and peppering her with kisses as the chorus swells. Somewhere along, the beat shifts into the clacking of their daughter’s building blocks as she chortles and bangs them in the air. His wife can’t stop giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

And memories of her from back then comes rushing back, flashing like ecstasy, like shutters of joy. 

. . .

The roar of the stadium is deafening and he still can’t believe that joke from a couple months ago had spiraled into this, or that he’d be among the thirdy chosen to compete. He scanned the dirt track, his horses and the crowd, determined to find his family. Determined to win. 

He’s never so much as touched a horse before. How his wife still believed in him was a wonder in itself. Among the other racers, he and his boss stuck out like sore thumbs. The only difference was the old man making conversation with the others, eliciting loud guffaws that carried over to him every now and then. He fiddled with the chains nervously, heart pounding inside. 

The anticipation was killing him. The road ahead laid itself out, what path he’d take, who he’d have to weave around, what he’d do to avoid crashing- 

The horn blows. 

A cloud of dust kicks up and he snapped the reins. 

They don’t move. Again. His heart drops as they stay put. “Please-” 

The chariot jerks forward and he nearly flies off. It rumbles, the track bumpier than it looked but thankfully he’s picking up speed 

His first obstacle was the curved wall rapidly approaching. He frantically yanked left on the reins, doing everything he could think of to get them to turn. His grip twisted and they finally jolted- missing the fact that this death machine could drift. The wheels skidded in a grating screech across the width of the track and nearly slammed him into the wall anyway. Breathlessly, he fixed his eyes on the road ahead, facing a cluster of the other racers with hardly enough space to fit another chariot. 

In the brief gap of time before he caught up, his eyes darted towards the crowd. Watercolor palette. Pink, gold, white. Lily pads. Stars. Almost desperately he tried to find his wife and child in the competitor’s box. Family of the racers had been allowed a special view on the ground but every winter solstice they’d taken an inch and ran a mile with it. The sea of masks was certainly discouraging but he wasn’t one to give up. 

Lily pads. Stars. 

Top row to the right, they’re screaming at the top of their lungs-

“Hey!” 

He snapped back and jerked his chariot to the right, cutting off two racers as his tail end almost tripped their horses, driving him towards a collision with another and he pulled with all his might to stop it- brake-checking three others behind him. His horses, confused, frightened and much to his horror, suddenly surged forth straight at the old man’s chariot. He yanked it to the side and his own dove into a steep curve that still managed to splinter their wheel hubs. But with this last inch of his luck, he breaks free of the cluster. 

Leaving a man-made disaster and a discombobulated boss behind. The end is in sight. He can’t believe what just happened and dares to smile under the mask. 

His wheel pops off. 

The right axle slammed into the dirt causing the wooden cart to bounce and disintegrate into the dirt from the sheer speed they were going. The horses kicked, crashing into each other and he struggled to control them, praying that he’d make it out alive. 

The other wheel pops off. The horses panic and snap the reins, an incredible feat itself, and dashed away in two directions. 

He finishes with only the floorboard and front wall intact. It skids to a halt, tips over, and he falls flat on his face. The horn blows once more. He’s won. 

The cheers inside the stadium grew to an immeasurable height, shaking the earth but all he could think of was how his bones ached and how thankful he was for the mask his wife gave him, saving his face from the brunt of the impact. And before he knows it, she’s hauling him up and screaming into his ears. “You won! You’ve won!”

Dazed, he stumbled like a drunk into her arms, lifted his mask and kissed her. She laughed, high-pitched shrieking in delight as he showered her and their daughter with it on their cheeks and heads. “I won-” He can’t breathe. “I-” His legs give out and they both crumble to the floor as they’re showered with candles and paper. They hug their daughter, trying to protect her from the rain celebrating his triumph. 

She’s reaching. Andromeda’s giggling as she makes a grab for a crumpled piece of paper before moving onto some candles that’d landed right next to them. She chortles and squeals, tiny hands in the air as if not knowing what to catch next- not like there’s a chance that he and his wife would ever let hit her. She grabs his wife’s mask and wrenches it up.

“Oh!” 

He takes the chance to kiss her silly for a couple moments. His wife tugs him closer, heart threatening to burst from his chest from the adrenaline, from joy, from every colorful thing in the world. 

And it felt like death, life, in the best way possible. 

. . .

The papers had all but stopped mentioning their divinations, instead replacing it with mundane things that mattered little. It was a strange occurrence; the Family usually always had the Sages headlining the front page. But for two months there had been not even a mention of their name. 

“It’s a bit odd don’t you think?” His boss grumbled when he walked through the door. 

“Don’t you despise them?”

“That doesn’t stop the question of where could those old fools have gone?”

“You’re one.”

He gave a scoff. “Maybe the Family finally came to their senses and sacked them. Fill our papers with more important things.” 

The man picked up the paper. “What, like the giant advertisement for half off on all dresses at the new shop across town?” 

“Better than shouting at me that the skies aren’t real. What does it matter to us? We can’t even see it anyway. The sky’s been gray my whole life.”

“It’s not good to stay down here. You should see it for yourself at least.”

“And what do you suppose I’ll see?”

“The sun.” 

“You mean the thing that could scorch my skin? I’m alright down here. In any case, I’m glad those conspiracies are gone.” 

“Suppose there is some truth?”

A moment passed. Then his boss broke out into a guffaw that echoed and bounced around the room. It most definitely would have startled his daughter but luckily, his wife had taken her out for the town square that just opened up. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” 

His day repeats once more. Stamping papers. Verifying documents. He tried not to smile anytime a divorce contract landed in front of him, because all his thoughts are occupied by his wife and daughter. For a few moments he thought about swinging his feet just like her as well from the mere thought of his family. The idea still hadn’t soaked in and everyday he walked with a spring in his step, watching her grow. 

He might be the happiest man alive for the longest time. 

When he finally looked up his neck had gone stiff and his back ached. He stretched and sighed, wishing time could run quicker so he could go home. He closed his eyes for few minutes. 

A crash rocked the walls of his office. As quick as it had come, everything settled back and he wondered if he imagined it. 

The next one nearly threw him to the ground. He burst through the door. His boss is on the ground, face scrunched in agony. He rushed to his side and tried to lift him up, making him groan and bat his hand away. 

“S-sir-”

“Get home to your family.”

“But-”

“Did you hear me?!” The old man shoved him towards the door. 

He can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach and his dread was validated the moment it opened. 

Red pulsating cubes tore into the street, before yanking back out, pulling the rock and earth with it, high into the air. A chorus of screams and wails filled the air into something that terrified him to the bone. People ran, trying to get away only to end up crushed or falling through the quickly dissipating ground. 

A swipe of crimson dashes the road to pieces, knocking off a bridge connecting another street, flipping it over before sending it up into the sky. 

The only thought that screamed and took control of his limbs were those of his family. And it took him down splintering roads and burning houses. His sandals slammed into the pavement as he went and all he could think about was them. Crumbling buildings shattered in front of him and the smell of smoke and ash choked him out as he ran, sprinted. But perhaps what terrified him the most was seeing the ceiling of their cavern giving away to bright sunlight The gray quickly replaced with a warmth that torched his skin. 

And it’s red, everything is different shades of the color, assaulting him in every sense of the word. There’s iron, crimson, the ruby of blood and the warm color of the flames eating away at stalls, the streets and everything that held his house together. 

The street he came home to was nothing but rubble when he got there, with his heart in his mouth, he screamed for his wife, for their daughter- for the names of everyone who lived next to them, the devastating silence both terrified and gave him hope. They might have left. They might have made it. 

But the world had turned on its foundation and luck was not on his side. 

Because when  he scanned over what remained of his home, the first thing he sees on top of the debris was a severed hand with a ring on its finger and a steep drop right behind as if something cleaved it in half- taking his wife with it  

What moved him? What forced him to inch closer to where the entrance of his house should have been? Perhaps disbelief. Shock. The ceiling crumbled and another string of cubes slammed into the road, cutting off his only way back. At the same moment, a whisper of a cry came from beneath the rubble. 

He rushed forward, tearing at every rock within sight, tossing it away, ripping into the pile like a madman. Each pull and throw came with a feeble hope that threatened to consume him, a hope he didn’t dare cling to because her cries could be the wind or someone else’s child. 

He uncovers another hand, a tinier one and every doubt melts away. He grabbed a hold of her and pulled her out and there she was- scratched but alive. Crying, but alive. 

His daughter is still alive. “Andromeda-”

She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to his robes, her entire body trembling with each wail. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he thanked every god, whatever god was out there that led him to her.. “It’s okay, listen to me, we’re alright I promise.”

She’s a blubbering mess, trying to form words she couldn’t understand. 

“I know, I know-”

“Mama.”

He paused. Looked down at her breathlessly. “What did you say?”

She cried out again, the same word over and over and his heart swelled with pride. Even here in the midst of their collapsing home, the man found that unparalleled joy in being a father and he’s smiling, smiling as the ceiling cracks. 

“Mama-”

“Yes, yes! You did it!” He pulled away, cupped her face, wiped her tears. For a moment, her sobbing dies upon seeing his face. 

“Mama!”

“That’s right! That’s right, I’m so, so proud of you.” He pulled her back, feeling as though the light of day was shining upon him. “I’m so proud-”

A slab of rock shatters across his back, knocked all the air from his body as he’s hit with the full force of the slab above them. All thirty-three bones in his spine splintered, fractured, broke. The sheer weight forced him down and he just barely manages to hold up the sky from crushing his daughter. 

She screamed, the sound mixing in with a high-pitched whistle that grew louder. He inhaled. A sliver of air came like a thread. 

“It’s okay-” It escapes before he could say it, his lips mouthed the words. “It’s okay. You’re okay-”

“Papa!” 

It might be the happiest day of his life. Depsite the agony pulsating in his body, he managed a smile. A drop of red fell upon her cheek and blossomed like a flower in spring. He can’t breathe. 

“Papa!” 

“I promise it’s okay-” His head spins- more blood dripped from his mouth and onto her. “-Andromeda.”

She wailed, her knuckles white on his collar. 

“I love you so much.”

The ground shook. 

“I love you.”

A vertigo weight shifted within him and he knew the floor would not hold, that whatever chance of surviving before was now gone forever, the moment they fall. 

“Hold fast.”

Pain. It was the pain he worried the most about for his daughter. The same agony he wished to shield her from, for she was far too young. 

She was far too young. 

The ground cracked and at the end of his neighborhood, bits and pieces of the road plunged into the abyss. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Hold fast-” He pushed her to his chest, leaned down to kiss her head. Pulled his arms around her as much as he could. “-Andromeda.”

In the depths of whatever delusional hope was left, he put it into her name. That somehow, miraculously, her namesake would save his daughter, would make her fly. Invincible. Would throw her somewhere far, far away from here. 

But hope was just that; an empty promise of something better. 

When the man wakes up, his little girl had already turned to bones and there at the bottom of the Chasm, an anger stronger than the pillars of the world had taken hold and burst into flames.

Chapter Text

The streets are lit with the muffled fire of candles in lamps. They lined his whole neighborhood and an air of lonely solidarity suffocated her through the glass panes. Rhinedottir sat on a chair in his kitchen, looking out at the people still working late into the night. The days following the Eclipse’s order had been full of hope. With the optimism that somehow, most if not all, would make it out of their nation alive. 

The weeks following were not the same. As the days dragged on, the mood dampened and the heaviness of conversation began to set in. People began to get their businesses in order, storefronts shut down, stalls and street vendors have taken to working in her factories. 

Rhine watched several soldiers correcting the stances of a group of ordinary citizens. It’d be ignorant to say that she hadn’t thought of what their lives might have been if not for her. That one could be an architect. The other would have made a fine engineer. Behind them might have been someone who would make it out of Khaenri’ah as a famed chef. But whatever their future held, all of it was now irrelevant. Their lives didn’t matter, their dreams mattered even less. To her, they were a new variable. New specialized cogs in her mind that needed to be put to good use. 

It was her duty to make sure that happened, now that she had their nation in the palm of her hands. 

“It’s late.” And the reason for that being true calls out to her from the doorway of his bedroom. He must have woken up to find that her side was empty. She made no movement nor acknowledgment. 

Moments later, his captain’s cloak is wrapped around her shoulders. He might as well have bundled her in the flag of their nation. He kneels onto the floorboard next to her. “Rhinedottir?” 

Puppy dog eyes. Oh, how lovely it was to see him like that. Her expression remained frozen over, still staring at the window. 

“Is something the matter?” His voice was deeper in the night, lower. It plucked her heartstrings. 

“It’s comfortable here,” she replied quietly. “It’s warm with all the people looking after you and your sister.” Because this wasn’t something she ever had. Her little home outside the city was peaceful but isolating. “But I can’t see the world from here. I’m not sitting at the top.”

He immediately got what she meant. “The memory Irminsul showed us… your dream. You’ve been thinking about it all this time?”

“How could I not?” She looked down at him and smiled softly. “I want it all in the palm of my hands.” She ran one through his hair and watched with satisfaction how his eyes closed and how his breath hitched. 

“The lightshow- did you change it deliberately for the sake of achieving that?” 

Fireworks. His eyes. The sheer anger on his face. The moment they shared while everyone else was focused on the colorful explosions. 

“Ah. No. I forced you to attend because I wanted to piss you off. Provoke you.” Her fingers pushed his chin so his stare could face her. “When I fired that cannon at you, I got just the reaction I desired. I wish you could have seen your face from my eyes. Rage, you must have sworn to kill me in that moment.” 

He shook his head even before she finished. “-You were a dream.” His hand enclosed around hers. “I wondered if you were real.” 

She smiled softly. “Am I that unbelievable?” 

“You’re talking to the same man who was ready to believe you were a ghost,” he whispered. “I was ready to devote myself to you anyway.” 

“And you hated me before.” She ran her eyes over his head, observing the way the orange streetlamps reflected on the blond. “Oh, how could you ruin what we had?”

“You would rather go back to that?” he questioned with distaste. 

“It was morbid fun. But perhaps that feeling wasn’t mutual.”

“It wasn’t.” He fixed her with a hard stare, clenching his jaw. “At least not on my end.” His features relaxed. “I prefer things as they are now.”

“Yes,” she sighed resolutely. “I’m only reminiscing on how obsessed we’d been with our goals.” 

“You still are.”

“You’re not.” 

“I don’t need my goals anymore.”

“Because you’ve found me?”

His grasp tightened on her hand. “Precisely.” 

She let him cling to it. Cling to her skin, to her fingers, to her nails, letting his own enclose around it, rub it against his cheek. There was something desperate, madly obsessed  and restrained about the way he’s touching her hand. If it weren’t for the Codes, she reckoned he would have put it in his mouth and begun to devour her whole. But if it meant having him at her every beck and call, she wouldn’t mind. 

Her thumb reached to trace over his right eye, they open, revealing those dastardly stars once more. 

“You love me.”

He froze at her declaration. He turned it over in his mind. Contemplated. Sat with it. Then, looked back at her with resolve and a burning fire in his eyes. 

“I love you.” 

Oh how they twisted and stained that good word. Oh how she wished they didn’t. 

She can’t say it back. 

Love him? Love him and find peace down here? Love him and stay with this little family they’ve made for themselves? She could see the other side of it already, just past his broad, scarred shoulders. The sun is shining, their flowers watered; she and Azzy would walk home from the palace together, she’d welcome Dain back at the end of every day and nothing would ever be wrong. Somewhere in the night, she could hear Azzy’s laughter see her smiles, it would be all that filled their days, bright as her face and as warm as the protection he gave. Longing crawled up her chest. But she refused to let it consume her. 

Love him? Love him and abandon everything she worked so hard for? Love him and leave everything behind? Leave that divine chair at the top empty and without a ruler? The world had fallen to her feet once and she could never forget that exhilarating feeling. Perhaps that dream of her’s as a child never went away. The crown she’d touched back then was cold, spiked, uncomfortable. She’d sooner eat her own hair than put that on top of her head. But gods do not need crowns. Everything is falling into place just as she so wished and there was too much still to do, further heights to reach. And she would grapple and use everyone at her disposal to climb to the top. 

She bent down and kissed his cheek. Licked her lips. Blood. Remorse. I’m only sorry that I’ll hurt you.  

“Besides me, is there anything else you wish for?” she dared to ask.

He raised a brow, seemingly confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Remember how I asked where your ambitions were? How I said I had one, and your sister too and that you seemed to be the only one in this nation without any?” she elaborated. “And don’t tell me about our little rivalry. You only climbed to the top with me out of spite and for your sister. Think hard.” And please don’t tell me. 

He swallowed thickly and gazed out the window, deep in thought. Her heart began to pound with a little anticipation. It never does that with anyone but him. Hope. And perhaps a little bit of fear.

“My wish is for my sister to be happy. And to be with you.” 

Rhine sighed in relief and closed her eyes, happy that his answer was so simple and achievable. 

“Were you afraid of another wish?” he asked, upon seeing this from her. 

“Yes…that you would ask me to run away with you. To start somewhere new…” She spoke slowly, as if allowing herself to dream of something quieter. “To find some hidden corner of the world where no one would find us, where all I’d have to worry about is dinner, our laundry, whether I want to put something together or sleep in with you.” 

His eyes widened, now that this hypothetical was presented he wanted an answer. “And?”

“In a better world, I would have said yes. And I’m afraid I would have said yes in this one anyway.” A bitterness soured her tongue. “Given the present circumstances, that is unacceptable. So I’m relieved, that’s not what you asked of me.” 

The silence that followed was heavy and full of regret, of all the what-ifs and might have been’s. He drew closer to her, resting his head on her lap. Under the orange streetlamps casting a light onto the grim reality of an ensuing war, they allowed themselves a brief moment to dream of something different. 

Her grip tightened on him ever so slightly. 

. . .

Her students and his soldiers tipped the giant vats of black sludge into the pool.

The king’s face curled into disgust. The queen raised a brow, then walked over and stood next to her. “You’re throwing your dear captain into that?”

She grinned. “That’s too broad of a generalization, Your Majesty.”

“Will he be able to breathe in there?”

“Can men breathe underwater?”

“Ah. So you’re killing him.” The queen glanced behind her. “That explains the pure dread on his face.”

Rhine turned around and almost laughed. Dainsleif stood wide-eyed and rigid, his knuckles white on the spear he’s holding. “So stiff…”

“And a little green, might we need a bucket?”

“He’ll be fine. He’s strong.”

“Strong in the stomach too?”

“Well if I may be so bold, His Majesty isn’t exactly helping.”

They both glanced at the King who’d now taken it from side-eyeing Dain to a full body turned glare. “He looks ready to kill.”

“It’s just his face.”

“Noted.”

One of her student’s barrels passed by them. They tipped it into the pool, but it’s thicker than before and when they lifted it bottom up, they could see why. A thick, slimy organ fell in with a loud slap, splashing some of the sludge across the pool.

She heard a stifled gag from Dain.

“Poor thing,” said the Queen.

“Nothing he can’t handle.”

“What was it you said you’re using?”

“The Black Sea.”

“He’ll be bathing in corpses. What a brave man.”

“That’s your finest soldier.”

“I should prepare a medallion.”

“He’d be so honored.”

The Queen sighed with an amused smile. “You should go calm his nerves. Tell him nothing will go wrong.”

“It won’t work. He knows nothing is ever certain with me.”

“All the same.”

She bowed her head and turned away, sidling up next to him. “You can back down.”

It seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he’d been in. It took a moment for him to answer, maybe he’s really trying not to throw up right there in front of the Royal Family. He shook his head. “I’ve already agreed. I’ll manage.”

She reached and intertwined her hand with his, then gave it a squeeze. “I can walk with you to the edge.”

“There’s no need-”

“I must.” She smiled. “I need to hold onto you so you won’t drown.” 

“I know how to swim.”

“In a sea of corpses?” 

He swallowed thickly, trying not to think of it. “Don’t put it like that.” 

“Even so it’s better for me to hang onto you. You won’t be within the mental capability to pull yourself out once the process is finished.” 

For a moment, they let a small quiet fall upon them. “I’ll still remember my sister won’t I?”

“You could never forget. If it’s any consolation, it’s impossible for you to forget.” She reached up. Turned his face to her. “But. You may forget me.”

He kissed her palm. “Never.” 

Her student tipped the last vat into the pool and she tugged him closer, one hand in her pocket. They stop by the edge. She glanced at him. Watched him steel his nerves. 

“That remains to be seen.” She pulled out a small tube and tipped the molten starlight over. The golden drops pulsed across the oozing surface before fading. To build upon a god and morph one into an abomination; no other subject would have done. 

He pulled the buckle of his leather belt off and his sword clattered loudly to the ground. Under the eyes of the Eclipse they watch as the Hound descends down into the bubbling black mass. He lowered himself in. Took a deep breath. 

Disappeared. 

A heavy silence fell upon everyone in the courtroom. 

It might have come at the worst time. A glaring thought that stormed into the temple of her mind, a single question that she didn’t want to face, a moment of clarity that pierced through from the depths of her heart. 

What had she done? 

Rhinedottir stared over the surface of the sickening waters. She’d killed him. She’d killed him. Her fists clenched. She resisted the urge to go running into the Sea after him, to pull him back, to tell him no, she was turning him into something so much worse and that’s the worst thing she could do. To get into his thick head and scream at him to refuse her. To say no to something so horrible as this, to stop her before it was too late. And perhaps it already was but she clung pathetically to the hope that he’d still have the willpower to pull his sword at someone he loved. 

Was it love? Or twisted obsession? That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be put on a pedestal, to reach further than the gods- that sheer arrogance he used to speak of so often will destroy him. Then what will be left of him for his sister to come back to? 

His sister. What sane woman would allow this to happen to her student’s family? She thought of her face. The horror in it when she sees the monster in her brother resurfacing into something real. Asmoday had buried that memory of him and forgotten it, but Rhine couldn’t. 

Rhine remembered the girl tearing down the street in a mad frenzy, running from the only person she had in a world like this. Running from her brother. Running from the man who chopped off the head of another who grew up in the same alley as them. Running from him like he’d kill her too. 

What would Asmoday say if she were here?

“Cold feet?”

She jumped.

The Queen clasped her shoulder from behind. “Pierro sends his regards.”

“Y-Your Majesty?” 

“The Sages put him through to us, divined a message. He’s standing on the other side of the door, ready to guide them. It’s impossible to get through but that man is with you.”

“Is that so?” She could hardly hear it over the noise of her own doubts. 

The Queen pushed a block of something into her hand. “Come away with me.”

“Dainsleif-”

“Will be fine. My husband will keep watch and as much as they are paranoid of each other, this is hardly the moment for their feelings to let loose.” 

She let herself be taken away, let the hood of her cloak hide an expression so unbefitting of her. The Queen’s hands were softer, more delicate. She’d painted her nails an abyssal blue, studded with gold with bracelets and bangles and chains that swathed it like water. 

Her Majesty leads her into the drawing room with a scry glass. “Here she is.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

With that, the door shuts, enveloping everything in darkness. 

The curtains were drawn, and Rhine felt her way to the sofa in front of the glass. Or rather, in front of the old man’s face. Pierro’s lines were more sharply defined, his gaze, harsher than before and he’d grown his beard a little. She sat down, not feeling quite like herself. 

“Take off your hood.” 

She clenched the block and her dress. 

“Go on,” he urged. 

She flipped it back and glared at him. 

For a moment, neither spoke. He took her in, her face and hair illuminated by the blue glow of the waters. Then, “The dark reveals all matters of human nature. All matters of the world and you are no exception.” His expression softens slightly. “It reveals to me a little girl. A naive, spoiled, little girl.” 

“If you called just to berate me, you’re wasting your breath and I have more important matters to attend to,” Rhine hissed. 

“Ah. That knight. That Captain of the Royal Guard now in charge of the nation's army and the only hope that your plan will succeed.” 

“I don’t need them to defy the Will of Heaven.”

“But you need him.” 

Her fingernails dig into her palms. 

“Not because I believe you are incapable. But because…” He leaned forward. “you love him.” That declaration hangs in the air. It was jarring, coming from the mouth of someone who so vehemently opposed her. “Little Gold weaving wires and demanding chocolate finally turning in her most important assignment. And the King doesn’t even remember.” 

Her throat dries up. “How do you? Why, when their Majesties have forgotten?” 

“They’ve made a grave mistake.” His voice grows somber. “Listen to me once more, perhaps you may find yourself within the tangled mess that is this country.” 

When the rebellion ended and you left, their Majesties knelt before the Irminsul Tree. They’d resolved to never repeat the ruin that King Irmin brought upon Khaenri’ah, swore an oath to protect and allow the nation to thrive, to prove that it could stand on equal footing with the lands above. But to achieve that, they first must embody that which they hoped would grow. Strength. Justice. Freedom. The land is not to be tilled with farming tools, but fought for with steel and blood. 

They built it with our armies. With our high walls, our weapons and the people that make it. With him. Dainsleif. But how does justice come about in a land not bound by the skies? Their resolution was to form a council free of bias, made up of ideas and concepts that would best help Khaenri’ah with this goal. The Black Serpents. Alchemy. Divination. The Fools. The Messengers. And the Lords of Commerce. With the King and Queen as mediators, laws defending the nation’s freedom and its rights were passed. But they must be fair above all, in choosing the right people that would sit at the eight point star. 

So they resolved to forget. To forget who helped them win this rebellion against King Irmin, and all that those people have done for them. Perhaps it was a strange miracle that everyone at the time agreed this would be the best course of action. We were desperate, spiteful, we wanted to live and to live better than what he subjected us to. Any suggestion seemed a fine one indeed. 

They went alone. Irminsul sapped all their memories of us, including everything about you. At the foot of the tree they’d made one last request.” He fixed her with a probing gaze. “Do you remember what their Majesties looked like?”

Beautiful. “Divine. Heavenly.” She saw them standing there inside the tent, hands clasped around each other. Blue abyssal hair, braided- starry eyes that one could build temples out of. Queen Alberich made the leather straps and torn sleeves of her clothes look blessed. 

“But the moment you step out of the palace their image is erased. For the good of all Khaenri’ah, they locked themselves within these walls so the people have the freedom of choice without thinking of Royalty- free from siding with their Majesties for the sole reason of being beautiful or to gain favor.  

 When they emerged, this kingdom was reborn. I joined the Sages in pursuit of a quieter life, one that would use my head more often than my hands. They were different then, hopeful diviners just like you with drive and ambition. Perhaps that is why they detest you, abhor you. Not out of jealousy but because they saw the end of the horizon and stopped before it was too late. They had too much to lose while you had none. They stayed in this land to help rebuild it long before you came back. Divining kept this nation safe before we had enough people for the army you see today. Alchemy was just another branch they used to fortify their own abilities, We were secure. We were thriving and they, holding Khaenri’ah close to their hearts would die before seeing it fall into the wrong hands.” 

Her nails dug into her palms. “They’re still alive.” 

“Because worse than seeing our people at your mercy is the threat of annihilation Poor, corrupt kingdoms can be brought back to life. But a ruined one, broken, destroyed nation will fall once and never again, because there will be no second time. This was what they saw when you came with your research, your ambition. Your selfishness.” 

I remembered you. I remember your words back in that tent. You want the world in your hands, well now you have ours. Now you are responsible for all of our lives and the fate of the one underground. What you do next, what happens to us all will change how the lands above and the Heavenly Principles will view us. All their eyes fall on Gold, our Chief Alchemist, the pride of our nation and of humankind. Now how will history see you?” 

She had no idea what face she was making in the dim light. But his expression hardened. 

“Do not give me that look. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve blazed such a devastating trail. You’ve brought us down this path here to the brink of war, you know as well as I do that there is no turning back. It’s too late. You cannot yield. Our people will not kneel. This is not a fight with men but with the gods themselves. They will not attack with spears but with lightning, they will rain fire from the clouds and their strike can turn mountains to dust. As we are now, do you truly think we have a chance to defy all of Heaven?” 

“I do,” she croaked out, voice cracking 

“You don’t,” he replied. “You’re afraid. You have something to lose.” 

“No-”

“-that knight. That girl. You love them. You’ve fallen in love. You love like a mother.” 

“How do you know about her?”

“I’ve divined her every night since she left. I divined her falling from the sky, divined her coming back to you this very moment.” 

Rhine shut her eyes trying to remember how to breathe. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

His old wrinkled features and the lines at the corners of his eyes relaxed. “Because I believed in you. In our dream to free.” 

The silence that came after froze Rhine into place like a child being scolded by a parent. 

“Do not give me that look. Eat your chocolate.” 

She hated how her hands moved on their own, despite not knowing what it was. Hated that she obeyed, and hated even more that she was pleasantly surprised. Her emotions swirled into a mix of confusion, as if unable to figure out what to do with herself. 

She licked the chocolate that melted through the wrapper, off her hand, hoping to disgust him. Because anything was better than the look he’s giving her, than the stern expression that betrayed no hint of kindness. She would spite him. Make him shout, make him angry, and that would justify her acting like this. Would justify her sending everyone to war and to their deaths. She tore into the sweet, dragging her teeth through the meat of the sugar and chewing with ferocity and an open mouth before swallowing the half bitten chunks, trying not to choke on them. 

Gods, what was she even doing?

He only smiled. Pierro smiled. 

He smiled. 

With endearment. With that kindness she didn’t see before. His lips tugged up and his eyes softened into a tired gaze as if watching a bird peck at some breadcrumbs on a quiet early morning. 

And for the first time in her life, Rhinedottir burst into tears. Her face scrunched up, her eyes stung, and there’s a sudden lump in her throat that wasn’t the chocolate. It’s suffocating her, stealing her breath. Her words. 

She cried, loud, ugly tears, shocked that such a noise could even be made by her, and she’s making a lot of them. It was disgusting how it rolled down from her eyes, how it tickled her cheeks. How she’d rather dunk her entire head into water than just have thin streams of it falling down her face. It wasn’t like rain, or even the summer ones. 

It was just herself. 

“I’m killing him- I already have-” It’s coming out squeaky and high-pitched. “He’s in the Sea, he’s drowned. I’ve killed him- I’ve… killed him-” She can’t breathe. “I’m killing him- I’m killing him!” 

It was a mistake she could never take back. 

“I should have listened, I- I don’t know how to stop! It’s too late-” She’s sobbing. There was no one but the Sage to see her. But at least the darkness offered mercy. The darkness offered sanctuary. There was no spotlight in this drawing room. Only her, and the man in front of her as she wailed louder. 

Like a pathetic little girl. 

“I killed him!”

“You love him,” he replied softly. It was the last thing she expected. “You still remembered His Majesty’s most important assignment.”

She nodded, hiccuping, sniffling, wiping her snot into her sleeves. “Learn how to love.”

“That chocolate is your reward, Little Gold. He may have forgotten but I never did.”

“You hate me.”

“I never hated you. Where did this notion come from? That everyone must be on your side or else they hate you, and therefore, must be taken down?”

“From my stupid pride.” 

“It’s good that you’re aware. It means you’ve grown during this short meeting. You already were, from the moment your heart latched onto the knight. And as detrimental as this might be in our present circumstances, it seems like even someone like you must need to hear it from time to time. 

I’m proud of you. 

I’m proud of how far you’ve come, what you’ve managed to achieve, and how despite everything, you’re still here. You have our nation in the palm of your hands, which I remind you, is no easy feat.” 

She can’t stop her stupid crying, furiously wiping her face as more come down, unable to stop the fresh onset of tears from dampening her hands. “Why?” Her voice forced it out. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because alongside your insane ambition, you had another that steeped with it like finely brewed tea. One that tells me that you are not that heartless monster which you believe. You want all the people of the Seven to be free. You want Khaenri’ah to show them what it means to be absolutely free from the eyes of Heaven and that alone adds that scent of citrus and mitigates the bitterness.”

Her voice cried out in a fit, unable to speak anymore, unable to look at him and she covered her face. It was shameful. She needed no pity. But his words had pierced her heart sharper than any of the other Sages’. 

“Don’t cry, Little Gold.” And his words might as well have been an embrace as well. An all-consuming comfort, a brief respite here on the lonely path she’s walking and will continue to. “Don’t cry.” 

She did for the longest time and he muttered those same nothings over and over. 

“Eat your chocolate,” he finally said. 

Rhine did. This time, she nibbled on it. Ate it slowly. Bit off corners and tinier chunks. Turned it in her mouth. Let it melt. The sugar got between her teeth, stuck to the roof of her mouth, seeped into tongue. It calms her down.

“It’s good,” she sniffled. 

He smiled gently. “It will be a while until that knight changes. Let us forget our animosities and speak of nothing and everything in between. After all, that contract we signed must hold some sincerity to strengthen it.” 

She nodded. 

For the next couple hours she let loose a never-ending stream of all her virtues and vices and he built her back up. 

. . .

She left her cloak in the drawing room. Her backless dress exposed her to everyone behind her and to the cold air, never mind that she needed to pull him out. But with her, safety precautions had flown out of the lab a long time ago. 

The Queen’s heels clacked as she walked up to her. “Is he alive?” 

Rhine dipped her hand in. The first thing she felt was a small chunk of flesh. Then the skull of something or other- it has jagged teeth. A leg. An arm. Nothing was flailing or grabbing at her. 

A beak. Scales. She remembered Orobaxi, cut down for knowing too much. For knowing everything her nation does now.

But they were different, she found the metal sheet of his armor- the ringlets of his hand, closed around it. He jerked her arm taut and she pulled. 

A monster emerged from within the pool and with every inch that broke the surface, her heart pounded, quicker in anticipation. Would he be perfect? Just like she’d imagined? Or perhaps he might resemble one of her rougher sketches. If anything, the chance that he might come out wrong was higher than anything else she’d mutated before. 

Chunks of flesh and the black liquid drip and ran down his body as she put everything into pulling him out- his armor had now become a liability, filled to the brim with the sea, adding to his weight. Still, she bowed her head, trying not to smile. 

He was a dastardly thing with a jaw that unhinged, baring the venomous fangs she gave him, piercing violet eyes with a hue that drowned anyone who dared to look, a slight hunch to his back and claws at his fingers. The armor he’d worn had welded to become a part of his body, helmet included. 

Dainsleif hissed, slit eyes darting around until they found her and lunged with a clawed hand. She snatched it from the air, wrenched it back and held her breath. Behind her, the King moved forward, raising a hand as Dain paused, trying to tear out her throat. The rest of his own men surrounded them, weapons raised.

She wondered how it might have felt, pointing spears at their own Captain. Whether or not her plan succeeded, whether or not his men would have to kill him right there, hinged on a single word. 

“Kneel.” 

His arm slackened and he crumbled to the ground, clinging to her arms like a sinner to a priest. It worked. 

He’s perfect. 

A look of bewilderment and exasperation came over the King’s expression. That now, his best soldier, his knight, his elite captain of the guard had kneeled in front of her. 

“Stand.” His Majesty commanded. He wouldn’t move. And this managed to turn his mouth into a frown, she watched His Majesty’s eyes darken. 

“Stand,” she echoed. 

And he stood. 

The King’s hands clenched and trembled. “Kneel.”

He wouldn’t move. 

“Kneel!” His Majesty roared, baritone voice echoing throughout the hall. “Captain Dainsleif, I order you to kneel!” Her Majesty quickly clasped her husband’s arms, trying to calm him down. He turned on her, seething and Rhine could hear bits of his angry whispers. “...insane woman…no sense?!...told you-”

“Darling-... trust…. It’s not…” Queen Alberich fixed him with a deathly gaze, dark abyssal eyes gleaming from the light shining through the ceiling. 

She watched as King’s face gradually mellowed out into frustration. A moment later, Her Majesty turns back, nodding to her. 

Gold stepped closer to the ruined god. “Kneel.” 

The sound of his shin guards clanging against the ground echoed and bounced around the marble. He looked to her attentively through the cracks in his visor, waiting for an order. He was hers, completely hers to do with as she wished and her heart swelled at the thought. 

“Pretty fool.” She leaned down, pulled his visor up, and kissed his corpse-stained lips. “Look at what your father made you.”

. . .

“How do you feel?” Her hands kept him steady as they descended the steps down from the palace. 

“Sick,” he replied, his knuckles white from gripping the hilt of his sword. She couldn’t blame him- cleaning the pieces of dead gods off of his clothes and armor wasn’t exactly how he thought his evening was going to go. It might have taken several hours, and several more for her students to work the black sludge from between the cracks in the metal. Still, she could see some remnants of it staining the silver. 

“You did well.” 

“That doesn’t help.”

“Do you feel any differently than before?” 

“I have the urge to swing at something.” 

“Is that why you haven’t let go of your sword since we walked out?”

“Yes.” His strained voice almost made her laugh. “I assume you and your students will be staying within the palace walls?”

“No. They’ll be out there with the Sages. If your soldiers fall, only then will they draw back and be our last line of defense for the Queen.”

“Twenty won’t be enough.” 

“It will be. Don’t underestimate them, they’ve learned from me, after all.”

His piercing gaze fixates on her. “And where will you be?”

Her hands twitched on the arm she was holding. “That’s none of your concern.”

“You have no right to say that anymore. Not after what you’ve done to me.” 

Her jaw clenched and she forced a smile. There wasn’t any use lying- she didn’t know why it was her first instinct to. “Do you know why the Queen approved for the transfer of the nation’s Captain to me?” She began. 

“You asked for it, didn’t you?’ 

She shook her head, that same smile that made him so uneasy crawling back up her lips. “What better way to defy the gods than to mutate one of their own beyond all belief?”

He frowned. “So I’m intimidation?”

“Much more than that. When they see you, they’ll understand how far we could go without them. We’ll be worthy enough to stand with the Seven above without the divine. They’ve proven themselves to be spiteful, and incompetent. Even your father prayed to some higher being for help. For you and your sister.” Amusement tinted her voice as she gazed at him. “Now look what he’s done.” 

“So I’m not the ace up our sleeves once I’m there.” His mind spun, trying to think of someone, anyone else that would have even a slight chance of facing them. One strike would leave nothing of a human behind except for burnt ground. “If not me, then who?” 

“Me.” 

He almost stopped walking. He stared at the woman next to him. 

“You’re a god, Dainsleif. Something I dream to be and so much more. You’ve made it further than I ever have just by existing. You are everything I can never be and yet you do nothing with it.” Bitterness laced her voice. “You never aim higher, you never strive for more- yes, you shoulder the weight of protecting our people and the Royal Family, but is that really all? Is that all that you want? Don’t you think that’s a waste?” 

“You’re putting me to good use,” he replied. She fell silent for a moment, her eyes hidden by the hood of her cloak, then murmured something. “What?”

“Starlight.” Her breaths are lighter as if the mere thought of the power source was something to revere. “You’re born from it- you and your sister. I’ve swallowed one whole.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I had my students melt them down. We work with it every day, we weld it into our machines. Now no one would notice if some were to go missing. Especially if that ‘no one’ were the Sages themselves.” 

“You can’t be serious-“

“I ordered them to do it- and to mix it into something sweet.” She paused as if hesitating for a moment. “Cake.” 

It struck him then how much his sister had meant to her. That night in her bedroom was the first time he saw her care about something other than herself. Even now, after all this time, remnants of the girl had still managed to find a way into their smallest gestures. They saw her in the flowers on Rhine’s hill, in the baker’s daughter, in sweetshops and cakes and food stalls and the town square. 

They come to it on their way to his home. 

For a moment, neither moved, staring at the children’s drawings on each cobblestone. Then- 

“What do you think their dreams were?”

“What does it matter” she replied. 

“You don’t believe that.” 

She felt his eyes on her. Felt them boring into her heart when it was supposed to be te other way around. “You’re afraid.” 

That was the second time someone said it to her today. Her nails dug into her palms and it was infuriating; how she couldn’t look him in the eyes because if she dared to meet his, Dainsleif, the daftest, first and last man she will ever love will read every thought that would strike her from that divine pedestal he put her on, And she wouldn’t know what to do if that happened. 

“Bells,” she deflected. 

“What?” 

“Bells. Like your father, your sister and you Bells for gods and a choir manned by a thousand angels- but bells are enough.” 

A look of bewilderment crossed his face. 

“My students are my bells. All the gold, all the damage and all the beauty and they are mine. You will see me even across the Black Se. We’ll mock Heaven wit their own music-” She trouched his jaw, traced it down. “-with their ‘Son’.” 

And his face hardened ever so slightly. He knows she’s bluffing .”So did you forge me that iron cross?”

Rhine stared right back, unmoving, unyielding.