Chapter Text
there was so much smoke.
it clawed at his throat, polluting his shaking lungs. but alatus kept breathing anyway. it ached inside of him, the rawness in him recognizing it for what it was, and tried to bar its passage, leaving the yaksha to stumble into a coughing fit.
it was over. he didn't even know what it was anymore but whatever it was was decidedly over. but he still felt on edge when he planted his spear into the ground and leaned against it, the side of the pole digging into his forehead, chest heaving. up and down and up and down. when he was satisfied with catching his breath, or at least couldn't fight the urge to move any longer, he forced one foot forward. then another.
they sank on impact to the soil, only about a centimeter or so, but the dirt was practically mud. which didn't make sense. this area of liyue was dry, notoriously so. it was why it had been such a good choice for a battlefield, with fewer crops and settlements to endanger and such.
but now the dirt was damp. it was when alatus regained focused awareness of his sense of smell that he realized that the iron perfuming the air wasn't the vestige of clashing blades. it was blood that he could smell in every direction. blood that had been watering the soil beneath him. blood that dripped off of the jade tip of his polearm. blood that poured off of an open gash that tore through his shoulder, a fresh wound he couldn't even feel. blood, blood, blood, seeming to seep into the sky itself and leaving it a sickly ochre-red behind the smoke. the smoke that there was so very much of.
alatus stumbled backward, heart suddenly lodged in his throat. how had he gotten here? adrenaline fueled when he realized that he couldn't remember, blurs of carnage filling his peripherals when he tried to grasp at the memory. until his boot hit something that it didn't half-sink into. something that cracked under his weight. it was a familiar sound. shaking, he turned around.
bonanus' ribcage had splintered under his absent-minded heel. she lay face-up, listless and undoubtedly dead . blue eyes wide open but something in them was gone from this world. he hoped the next one in store for her would be kinder. one where her corpse would not be desecrated by her brother's lack of vigilance. returning to his own body, he raised his hand to his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. he found blood on that too.
he turned away quickly, kneeling on the soil in the opposite direction so that his sick wouldn't get on her.
"indarias?" he croaked, throat burning from his stomach's heaving, vomit and blood mixing on his chin. "menogias?"
weakly, he rose to his feet, swaying on them as if he was a drunken young lord who had spent too much time in a brothel. golden eyes turned, surveying the land and its desecration. if he had not expected it, the sheer carnage of it all would have brought him to his knees once again. miles and miles of corpses, he couldn't even tell which side they were from. the only hint would be the bright blue banners, carrying on the clear sky's legacy, that lay abandoned, nestled between fatui. or, more accurately, the dead that had used to be fatui. indiscriminately laying next to who had used to be a part of the milileth.
a glint of violet made its way through the smoke to alatus' gaze and he bolted, surprised to find a slight limp in his step but undeterred. more bones crumpled under him, but his eyes ignored them, searching for one thing and one thing only.
they found a corpse instead. four limbs twisted in directions they were not supposed to go in and more exit wounds than anyone had organs to puncture.
"brother..." he whispered, eyes wide and vision fogging up. he supposed he was crying, but with the realization came the fact that he had been crying for a very long time now. "brother bosacius?" silence, filled only by the ringing in his ears. despite himself, the vigilant yaskha whimpered. swallowing a sob, he turned away, seeing yellow cloth on the floor and looking away from that too. for so many years now, his life had consisted of nothing but endless bloodshed. ironic that he couldn't bear to look at it when it littered those too close to him.
were any of them left?
alatus turned around, seeking something, anything, to give him purchase, a reprieve from this. he hurried forward with renewed vigor, eyes on the ground now to check any of the fallen soldiers for familiar faces. he did. faces he'd trained and directed and told to come here. he forced his eyes up. and he found what he was looking for in the distance, in indarias' stumbling form. she saw him at the same time as he saw her. and she smiled, so wide, so bright, so happy. as if she had seen what was left of them. as if she knew they were the last two standing. her hand reached forwards, as if ready to hold him again, to tell him what the hell he was supposed to do now.
but she stopped and swayed in place as if gravity was deciding what to do with her.
she pitched forward.
from inside of him, wind propelled him forwards, fast enough to catch her before she reached the ground. but his arms found themselves much weaker than he could ever remember them being, and he was brought to the floor with the pyro yaksha, holding her feverishly in his arms, trying his best to swallow down a cry. he looked down, and she was still fighting. that something in her eyes that had left bonanus was still fighting to hold on. fighting to choke out her breaths, splattering both her and alatus with wet crimson. fighting to look out at a smoky sky that stung her eyes.
indarias tilted her head to it, and he found someone fighting to smile. she mouthed something to him in those moments. or maybe she was speaking but all that ringing was stopping him from hearing it.
and all at once, she gave up.
that was when he started screaming .
the sound came from a place in him that he didn't know he had, as if he had an extra heart that had been designed only for him to wring it out like a sponge when he had accumulated as much loss as possible. it clawed its way out like a depraved animal and it did not stop. it did not stop. he found that he didn't breathe for a very long time, as if his magic had refilled his lungs while he was wailing his grief to an empty battlefield. but eventually. even that air was forced from his lungs.
someone was on him now, holding him from behind but not holding him down. just cradling him. he could tell it was a person because it was definitely an elbow that he buried his face in to muffle his pained groan before a shaky inhale. he didn't want to make noise, he didn't want to do anything. he didn't want to breathe, he didn't want to send vibrations into the air to announce his presence as the last one standing. out of all of them, celestia had looked upon him and concieved the cruelest joke she possibly could. he was trying his very best to be quiet, to not let her know that it had worked and the least worthy yaksha was left spared from the carnage they had wrought, but all that did was leave him between crying and whimpering into strong arms. he wasn't sure what their owner was saying but whatever it was gave him permission to inhale steadily.
and begin to scream again.
the vigilant yaksha
Xiao woke up, bolting into an upright position in a cold sweat, the scar on his right shoulder throbbing, his chest heaving. He tasted the ghost of bile rising in the back of his throat and immediately turned over to the side of his bed, retching nothing but what felt like his own organs. He groaned, one hand reaching up to swipe at the acidic spittle that had fallen over his lips and chin. but nothing from the contents of his stomach, he was pleased to find. Just dry-heaving, his new morning routine at this point, as if his body was trying still to purge the smoke from his system from that fateful day.
Another groan made its way past him and he sighed softly, the hand reaching up to steady himself against one of the lengths of carved wood that shot upwards from the corners of his modest bed. He sent a glance down at the white sheets of spun cotton, damp where his body had just been and noticeably much finer than what he was used to. soldier's quarters on battlefields, haphazardly set up in tents within the uncaring wilderness of Liyue, that was what he was used to. but he hadn't seen battle in a very long time, so nothing had warranted the arrangments. He'd always been quick to complain about them, but now, still steadying his breathing, he ached for the stiff plush of his old bed. this was too soft, he felt like he was about to fall through the bed frame.
He did not want to entertain the idea that he missed it because the last time he had slept in such conditions, the other four had still been alive.
Xiao grit his teeth, raising his eyes to the bedpost his hand was leaning his weight on as he watched the details come into focus while he ignored the growing ache in his shoulder. Slowly but steadily, the rest of the room came into the awareness of his heightened perception. The wooden flooring that never creaked when he stepped on it, the small table nearby with a small iron basin supported by a white washcloth that held once-cold water, the delicate silk curtains that filtered the midday sunlight into a hazy, dream-like glow that warmed the setting.
Wait.
Midday sunlight.
Hissing out curses, the yaksha shed his nightclothes and stumbled through donning his garments. He grit his teeth, something stinging at his eyes. Not sadness, there was no pity here, much less for himself. Frustration, more than anything. He was Alatus Xiao, the Vigilant Yaksha General, the Anemo Illuminated Beast. It was ridiculous that he was waking up so late, especially considering that for the vast majority of his life he had been getting up at the crack of dawn. What’s more-it was embarrassing . He bit the inside of his cheek while he practically threw his door open, storming out of his room and into the building, towards the exit that led to the pavilion. Why had no one gone to wake him up? But the answer came easily and stopped him in his tracks.
They didn't need him anymore.
His shoulders tightened and his wound screamed at the action. But he was right, he knew it. He was a general whose greatest expression of something resembling worth was throwing himself into the front lines of battle where he carved a bloody path through enemy forces. That was where he was sent to because that was his fucking job , since long before the Emperor had recruited him. But Xiao was in the imperial estate now, and for the past few weeks, because he didn't know how to do anything but fight and because there was nowhere for him to go to do that.
There was one more reason, but he didn't dare think it. Only acknowledge the outline of it and tuck it into his chest where it could rot and die.
He stopped in his tracks, examining the view from the foot of the residential building he had come out of while he waited for the sensations from his shoulder subsided. No one he might make a move to look for could see any evidence of him in discomfort, the last thing the Imperial Court needed was any more reminders of his weakness.
The Imperial Estate sprawled before him in all its grandeur, of which it had much to spare. Its magnitude was the stuff of legends, for all intents and purposes as large as a small village, naturally featuring the palace as the jewel at the center of it all, but the smaller building's peppered the grounds around it in meticulously planned symmetry. Largely for committees that consisted of enough people and important to have their own structures in place but also quarters for guests not quite important enough to be housed in the palace, including most servants' quarters. The manicured gardens that adorned the outside of every building were impeccably pruned, from the corner of its walls to the side of the main building's entrance. The main building Xiao set his sights on.
Gingerly, he led his left hand to his right shoulder, prodding against the scar tissue. Nothing. It was just like Baizhu had said, he would be prone to ghost pains, 'especially during times of stress.' The knowledge of what stress the medic could have possibly been referring to eluded Xiao at every thought, but he brushed it off, secure in the lack of feeling from his former wound, and set off.
The glistening outlines of the yellow glazed roofing tiles winked at him in the sun as he passed, arranged in intricate overhanging eaves and upturned roof corners. Wooden columns were mostly in dark uniform, but periodically boasted elaborate carvings of Rex Lapis’ deeds. And at every turn, he saw glimpses of them where they were not looked for. A crystalline stream's promise of coolness whispered Bonanus' name. Vestiges of Menogias drinking his tea at an outdoor table appeared in his periphery, gone when he looked at the empty seat head-on. Xiao exhaled and kept walking.
The Imperial Palace stared at him as he approached her raised platform and steps as he gave an unamused glance in turn, walking up the stairs with an air of urgency. What had he missed? Sure, he wasn't very useful in matters of formality or diplomacy (or anything at all, now that he thought about it) but the urge to know nipped at his heels like a needy dog. If he couldn't contribute, the least he could do was stay aware of happenings. Especially in the midst of an international war.
Heavy wooden doors painted in red parted at his hands, and he glanced to the sides. Servants scurried around to their duties, mostly ignoring him. What was one person in a hubbub of activity, like everything else in Liyue? But a few of them raised their eyes at him, recognition crossing over them like a veil whisked over their faces. They flickered from his features to his shoulder and were gone as if they were ghosts that didn't want to be seen by him. As if his state was contagious. Worse, however, were those that looked at him with something that was a razor's edge away from pity.
Xiao silently flared and kept walking, set on finding anyone familiar at this point. The further he traversed into the halls the louder the sounds of voices grew until he found himself actively seeking out where they were coming from. They overlapped with each other frequently, a meeting of some kind? He frowned but kept walking before finding the doors to one of the main assembly halls, pushing it open.
Gathered, was the largest congregation of important people he had seen in a very very long time, since before he had been sent off to the war effort. Just the amount of faces that he recognized was the deadest giveaway. Hu Tao, in charge of Cultural Affairs in Liyue, having inherited the position from her grandfather. Unlike her grandfather, however, she was often regarded as the Emperor's right hand and one of his closest confidants. Next to her was Yanfei, the legal consultant who was not strictly a part of the Imperial staff but was frequently hired in light of her fluency with the language of the law. The two were silent, one poring over a large volume and the other looking characteristically bored. Yelling at the pair was a young woman with purple hair tied elaborately, reminiscent of the shape of cat ears, but in his observance, Xiao noted that she wasn't particularly angry at them. It seemed that was just her intonation of speech, at most stressed by the magnitude of whatever the people were discussing. Opposite the table to them, the Leader of the Feiyun Commerce Guild, his two sons shadows behind him, discussing something with a familiar but unknown woman with chestnut hair who sported a black leather eyepatch. She sighed, exasperated, and turned to a woman a little further up the table.
In his constant vigilance, Xiao had heard Ningguang frequently referred to by the servants as the regent Empress. Which, for all intents and purposes, he supposed was true. The Empress of Liyue was dead. She had been for a very long time. In the subsequent power vacuum, no one had stepped up to the mantle like the woman with the cream-colored hair. She had taken up every single duty within a night of the mourning period and then some but had never once referred to herself as the Empress. Still, she was more often than not clad in the trademark garments. Her neckline was delicately sown in with filaments of gold, decorated with pearls, and when formal, ceremonial events occurred she was often found in a Diyi , the customary ceremonial garb for the matriarch of the royal family. But, again, she seemed to take no joy from it. At most, the elaborate clothing seemed to have a similar relationship with her as the soldier's that Xiao had seen putting their armor on. It was part of the job, just as necessary. Whatever Ningguang's job actually was .
But whatever it was, no matter how close, she was not the Empress. Somehow, she walked the blade-thin line between being above the title and beneath it. She had more duties relative to the upkeeping of the nation of Liyue than the Emperor or at least performed most of them. But they were not married, and never had either of them entertained the idea.
As she spoke in return to the one-eyed woman, Ningguang's three secretaries jotted words down at the speed of light. She sighed, not particularly out of stress, and turned to the Emperor.
The Emperor.
Xiao glanced away furtively, locking his eyes on the first thing they laid their sights on. A candle, pins inlaid into it at uneven intervals. He recognized it immediately, it was how time was told. As the candle burned, the pins would fall to the small bronze dish below them, each one indicating an hour. Each candle held about seven. There were nine pins at the foot of the wax. He stiffened. They had been here since early morning, discussing something he was still in the dark about and had not thought to wake or summon him. Despite being unable to imagine a subject they could be speaking about that would warrant his input, the general felt oddly betrayed.
Again, in the midst of the fervent discussion, he could see flaming locks, garments to match, and a brilliant strategy for something he couldn't begin to comprehend. But he had learned his lesson and didn't have to look to know that it was not Indarias that was there.
He felt someone's eyes on him and turned on instinct, rearing for a battle, but found a young woman looking back at him intently. Still focused on the meeting but giving him her attention. A young woman, plump, with long and wavy blue hair stood to approach him, calmly. Calmly, but tired, Xiao noticed as he examined Ganyu. She pressed a finger to her lips and jerked her head for him to follow her as she turned and disappeared into a side room off of this one. Xiao turned back, conflicted, at the meeting. No one had noticed he had entered.
He followed the younger Adeptus.
Ganyu closed the door behind him when he entered the side room. Usually, it was reserved for the Emperor's private meetings, the decoration was much more intimate here. Scrolls hung up on the wall painted a sprawling landscape in languid, masterful brushstrokes. A small bookcase, about as tall as Xiao's midsection, harbored a collection of practical volumes, with an unlit time candle on the top of it.
Betraying nothing in his voice, he spoke, "What are they discussing?"
She sighed, looking out of the window. "You recall the last battle against the Snezhnayan forces?" Xiao resisted the urge to snort, staying silent. Apparently getting the message, Ganyu continued, "The government of Mondstadt has reached out to us. They are offering an alliance against the Fatui."
Xiao balked. Mondstadt had been far from neutral in the effort, but the nation and Liyue's struggles had been very isolated. They acknowledged each other in passing, he supposed would be a good way to put it, but never had either of them reached out with an invitation of a direct alliance. The idea stunned him.
"What are the terms?" He kept his astoundment out of his voice.
"That's what they're discussing." Ganyu sighed again. "Ningguang and the Feiyun are trying to figure out how far they can go to make it as profitable as possible while still contributing to the war effort enough so that we can see an end to it in the near future. Yanfei has been pulling out any formal legal precedent for reference along with finding which trade and diplomacy laws apply to the situation. Hu Tao is..probably sleeping right now, but she was planning the Liyuan entourage into Mondstadt."
His brow furrowed. "Entourage?"
She nodded. "We've sent word back that Liyue accepts, of course, but the finer details will be discussed in Mondstadt itself. We plan to send a few squadrons of millelith, some officials, including Ningguang and myself, to finalize the agreement."
“I see you’re briefing the general on the situation.” A voice came from behind them.
If he had still been in the meeting hall, Xiao seldom would have hesitated to look in the other direction. Away from the Emperor and his memory, the memories that stared at him every time he looked into those unchanging eyes, resolute as the stone foundation that the palace was built on. The same eyes that looked at him and decided to take him into court. The same eyes that gave him his first commands as a general. The same eyes that held him in the face of the Yaksha’s death.
All of these things looked at him calmly, not as an obstacle but as simple facts. These things had all happened, and he was a fool for pretending otherwise.
Yes, if he was in the meeting hall he would have avoided those striking eyes. But here, in the intimacy of the Emperor’s private study, there was nowhere to hide his disrespect if he did so. So Xiao looked up to meet Zhongli’s gaze.
Sometimes he thought that dragon robes were named just for him. But that probably wasn’t the case, no matter how likely it could be considering Zhongli’s age (the thought brought memories of Bosacius. no one else had poked fun at the Emperor over his age as the eldest living Archon more than he had.). After all, he hadn’t always been the emperor. But looking at him, Xiao couldn’t imagine them being worn by anyone else. They billowed like water at the slightest movement, the dark robes delicately embroidered with viridescent gold. They outlined a sparse pattern of scales, but their sparse appearances in the fabric highlighted them all the more. A constant reminder of the Rex Lapis’ capacity for destruction. And the acknowledgment that he was using it for diplomacy and to walk to the window to stare wistfully at an intricate garden of glaze lilies just outside of the glass.
Ah-the memory came to Xiao again, unbidden but for once welcome. Guizhong had been partial to the flowers. His eyes flickered to the slit of Zhongli’s collar and the cloth beneath his main robes. Mourning white, after all this time. He looked away, shuffling uncomfortably in his place. He could tell Zhongli had noticed, though the Emperor made no indicative move.
Instead, with a gentle incline of his chin, he dismissed Ganyu. She nodded quickly and stole away back to the meeting hall. Through the open door rang promises of her new duty to pull Yanfei off of getting into a fistfight. But the door shut in her absence and left the two in silence.
Lots of silence.
“…congratulations,” Xiao ventured, tentative and stiff. He figured it was in order, it was no small feat, securing a direct alliance after such sparse communication, save for trade. He stood at attention as if the next words out of the Emperor’s mouth were going to dictate his next battle. Which he very much hoped he would. At least then he could be useful.
Zhongli smiled softly. Tired. “Thank you. But it was not done by our hand,” Xiao was struck with the feeling that he was being let in on a secret, though he couldn’t imagine half the people in the meeting hall didn’t already know it. “The Grandmaster of Mondstadt’s military force, the Knights of…something, was the one to reach out. After the last battle,” he paused, as if unsure, but continued. “…and the subsequent Fatui defeat, she thought that an alliance would intimidate Snezhnaya into surrender. If nothing else, a combined and coordinated military effort would be something we could all benefit from.”
Xiao nodded, wondering wryly if he had been brought here to be monologued at.
“You’ve heard of the entourage, yes?”
He nodded again.
“We’re sending bits of Liyuan culture with Ningguang and the others. Yunjin has a few performances planned, Xiangling is going to introduce her cuisine on a larger scale, and many gifts are in order.” Zhongli hesitated. “Shows of goodwill,” as if convincing himself.
For the third time, the Yaksha found himself nodding. He scarcely watched the famous singer’s performances but he thought highly of her and her proficiency in the art form. His only objection would be doubt on whether or not Xiangling would provide the most accurate portrayal of Liyuan cuisine. This all seemed…fine? Positive forces at play, surely.
Just irrelevant to anything pertaining to Xiao himself.
“This is where you come in.” Zhongli started as if sensing his doubt about his role in the operation.
“You’re sending me to protect the entourage?” Xiao ventured, a stab in the dark guess.
“To protect,” the other man said, suddenly seeming a little uncomfortable.
Xiao raised a brow.
“We thought it would be an expression of goodwill if you became the Mondstadt archon’s personal guard.”
A pin dropped on the other side of Teyvat and it was deafening.
So he was right. His last battle, the last battle, had been such a disgrace on his name that he was being reduced to a pawn. An object. A show of goodwill to become a purse dog for the cushiest Archon in the world. They didn’t need him anymore here, that was obvious.
But he hadn’t known that Zhongli was cross enough with him to send him away.
But it made sense. Xiao may as well have killed the other Yakshas. He wouldn’t want to have to look at himself either.
So he grit his teeth, blinking back a wet blur.
“If it is my duty.”
barbatos
“Duty calls!”
A resounding groan made its way through Venti’s lips as he blinked sleep from his eyes, just in time for Barbara to throw the elaborate drapes open on his even more elaborate bedroom, filling it with sunshine that made him hiss like a perturbed cat.
“Five more minutes,” he muttered, curling up against a particularly sizable pillow, hungry for its warmth despite the sun painting his covers.
“It’s two pm., your majesty,” The younger girl chided, smiling as she did so. Brighter than the sunlight streaming inside. It was a dreadful irony that she wore the same beaming smile when she tore the monarch of Mondstadt’s fine covers off.
Venti shivered in the temperature, yelling something indistinguishable before burying himself in what little comfort he had left: his pillows. Ink-colored hair spilled around his head like a parody of a halo, two irregularly cut strands tipped in heavily saturated light blue, contrasting with his peachy skin. He groaned, glaring daggers at the girl.
“I’m going to have you banished,” the Archon spat, rolling into an upright position and catching a glimpse of himself in the gold-plated vanity in the corner. He frowned at the sight, raising the balls of his palms to his eyes so he could rub his exhaustion off as if it were something physical.
“Just a regular Thursday, then.” Barbara chirped.
A pitiful attempt at a stare-off against his handmaiden resulted in Venti laughing himself out of bed and letting her toss him his outfit for the day. Or whatever was left of it.
“What’s on the roster?” he called as he shoved his head through.
Barbara sighed, finishing pinning back the large curtains to the sides of the even larger window, and turned to look at him, both hands reaching down to fluff out her dress a little bit more, as if still expectant of him to tell her her appearance wasn’t good enough. No amount of his reassurance would fix her insecurity, it seemed, as she had had such issues since she had been employed as his lady-in-waiting. Silly, considering he wasn’t a princess or anything. But the girl’s older sister was always right, and it seemed this had been no exception. Now, where Venti had seen an ironic presence, he now saw one of his most trusted confidants.
As if not wanting to stop keeping her hands busy, the girl raised her hand to tighten one of her high pigtails before speaking. “Not much today. You’re off easy.” She winked at him and he chuckled wryly, buttoning his blouse as he listened. “Before anything, Jean says you have to speak to her.” Something in her seemed to sag as she said it and Venti looked up.
She wasn’t looking at him anymore. His mouth tightened into a thin line and he glanced away. Of course.
“Can you lace me up?” he said softly, raising the leather corset in her direction. Brightening at his words, she nodded and rushed to his side (well-his back), taking the thin ropes into her hands and beginning to tie them together around his abdomen.
Venti sighed to himself, busying his own fingers with braiding the two longer strands of hair that framed his face, the blue ones. Occupying his mind with something simple so that the gentle throbbing of his headache would go away. Easy thoughts, like how Barbara would be ten times a better monarch than he was. A better archon, too. She was a better person. Or at the very least-not trying her best to shove a hangover back into her throat. She had the same love for his people as he did, but she always showed her heart on her sleeve and her joy on her face in a way that still gave him trouble, even after a thousand years. Somehow, she knew his ceremonial duties better than he did, inside and out. She would do it with the grace she did everything with, even lace up his corset. What's more, it would give her the time with her sister that she so desperately craved.
“All done,” she chirped, circling around him to admire her handiwork, raising her hands to ruff up his blouse a little more. The girl tutted gently, playfully, and swatted his hands away from his hair. “Let me.”
He smiled and sat down. Another thing he couldn’t do, it seemed. “Any idea what our beloved Grandmaster wants with me?”
Barbara shrugged, undoing his attempts at a braid and getting a hair tie from a nearby stand, pulling it over her wrist as she started anew, separating the bright blue into three equal strands. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s pretty big. The whole castle’s abuzz.”
Venti sighed gently, looking out the window. Of course, it was big, he didn’t see anything that would suggest it more than Jean actively seeking him out. But what could he offer?
Venti was extremely aware of his actual role as monarch of Mondstadt. Constitutional monarch. In actual legislation, he had little sway. But he was important. He represented the people of his nation, he was a sign of legitimacy, change, and constant together in one. At important court decisions, he was there. At festivals, he was there. For ceremonial events, particularly important weddings, he was there. A spectator to his own kingdom, representing it all the same. He was interested in knowing what the Grandmaster wanted him to watch next.
“There we go,” Barbara said, snapping him back to reality. Two impeccable braids left in her wake.
“Thank you,” he said, standing. “Shall we go?”
The girl nodded, getting up with him and opening the elaborate door of oak and gold before him, leading him through halls he knew by heart. Halls he watched be built. It was like walking through a dream, an uncanny valley of a setting. If you had pulled him from his first day as reigning monarch and set him to where he was walking, footsteps from his fine leather boots harmonizing with those from Barbara’s dainty flats, he’d think someone had come in the middle of the night and redecorated.
The rug had changed. The marble had been replaced over the years. Statues had been altered to reflect the best of his nation as well as his own, evolving, personal taste. Portraits of people he had known and had known well littered the halls in their memory with the dates of their deaths. One day Jean would join them. Barbara too, if Venti had anything to say about it. She deserved it. They both did, more than anyone else he could imagine.
Finally, the two came up at some less ornate doors but carefully carved oaken doors. A plaque on the front of it read ‘Grandmaster’s Office.’ Barbara stepped forwards, inhaling and exhaling. Distantly, Venti wondered when the last time she had come had been. When the last time she had seen her sister had been.
She knocked.
“Come in!”
The two shared a glance. That was not Jean. Nevertheless, they opened the door.
She had acquired quite the crowd, spread around the office, an elaborate domain decorated by past hands with the same title. But Venti recognized all of their roles. Amber the Outrider, usually represents the civilian population due to her affinity for spending time with them, understanding them on an individual level that Venti could never hope to achieve, considering how often the crowds under his platform changed. Cavalry Captain Kaeya, in business garb as opposed to his uniform, surely there for the Knight ’s military, as he was more attuned to that than Jean, who had the rest of the country to manage along with the Knights themselves, despite what her job description might suggest. Lisa, the librarian, for…reasons? She often advised the Grandmaster and frequented the office, so Venti wasn’t surprised to see her there, especially considering her eclectic knowledge pertaining to practically everything. She wasn’t a librarian for nothing.
They had been speaking, it seemed, but Venti’s arrival sent a string of silence to wrap itself around every one of their necks. Holding down a wry look, he reminded himself that it was not out of respect.
“You summoned me?” he asked lightly, a brow raised.
Jean Gunnhildr sighed gently, placing both hands on the side of her desk as she stood as if to hoist her up. “Yes, your majesty. Barbara, you can go.”
Her little sister bristled at the dismissal, as if on the cusp of saying something back but turned her bright ocean-colored eyes in her liege’s direction, almost asking him to intervene.
He offered a small smile. “They need you in the infirmary, more than I do.”
Something in her faltered at that. But that something either went away or she made it, because she returned with a beam and a nod, off to the surplus of wounded that were housed in the lower levels of the castle.
Barbara left.
Venti sighed softly and turned back to face Jean, a brow raised. “Well?”
The woman sighed, tucking a single rebellious strand of blonde jaír that had fought its way out of her ponytail behind her ear. “We did it.”
“What?”
“We asked Liyue for an alliance.”
“…what?” Venti’s voice came out in a whisper. He didn’t know how to feel. It was..a good thing, right? They needed the help. Desperately. Their forces were formidable but ultimately sub-par in the face of th Fatui’s numbers and ruthlessness. But together? They very much stood a chance.
He could see the relief in Jean’s face and knew it had worked. Distantly, he wondered how Morax was doing. He supposed he was going to find out.
“This is good news,” he said, suddenly feeling very small. All this had happened without him.
“They’re arriving in a few days' time, a whole entourage,” Lisa said from the side, shelving a volume she had in her manicured nails.
“Entourage? Of what?”
The librarían shrugged. “These aren’t simple things, Venti,” Jean gave her a look at her casual use of their superior’s name but Lisa ignored it completely, and Venti was glad. “It’s unity, of a sort, they’re coming to finalize the terms as well as come with representatives of their culture to facilitate further amicable involvement.”
Venti blinked. “..like what?”
“Oh!” Amber picked up a list from Jean’s desk, surely containing the repertoire for the event. “A few notable chefs of the capital city, some of their military to assist in defense efforts, the officials that are in charge of the alliance terms, an opera singer, a collection of merchants-”
“An opera singer?” The archon interrupted the list at the second to last term, perking up at the notion.
Cavalry Captain Kaeya chuckled lightly and nodded. “They’re all arriving a week or so from today, that’s where you come in.”
Venti frowned, tilting his head to the side with curiosity. “I’m confused,” he said dryly. Outside of receiving them at the elaborate steps of the palace, he wasn’t sure what he could possibly contribute. Other than what he hoped would be a stellar review of the opera singer.
“Well it's quite a few things that involve you,” Jean said, glancing over her meticulously organized desk as if there was a wine spill over the entire thing. “Receiving them, as you probably are aware of. It has been decided to put you in charge of preparing for them, and-“ she stops herself this time.
It’s Kaeya who steps in again, sly grin a little strained. “Part of the preliminary agreement is to have a Liyuan bodyguard appointed to you, as a show of good faith between nations.”
For the fifth time, but the most taken aback, “…what do you mean bodyguard?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Kaeya said smoothly, voice even again as though he had cleared a hurdle. “Someone to be with you at all times, keep you safe. Keep you company.”
“What the hell is Barbara for then?” he seethed, reeling on Jean.
She looked at him as if he were a child. As if he had not seen countless of her come and go over the years with seldom a blink. “Barbara cannot protect you.”
“Yes she can, you know there isn’t a better healer on these grounds.”
Jean sighs, exasperated. “I’m not depriving you of my little sister, your majesty. I have no intentions of replacing her as your handmaiden.”
“I don’t need to be protected,” he said through clenched teeth, something inside of him that he had forgotten flaring at the provocation. “It’s been ages since the last assassination attempt.”
“Don’t you find that a little suspicious?” the Grandmaster counters him without missing a beat, meeting his eyes head-on. “No one has come after you or sent a direct attack to Mondstat in ages. Considering we are still very much in wartime, isn’t it a little off?”
Venti didn’t have an answer for that, but he found one after a bit of a delay. “You forget yourself,” he spat. “I am the Anemo Archon .”
That thing inside of him thrummed with neglect, his nature coming back to him. He shunned it off, but it itched at his fingertips, demanding his attention. Recognizing something like itself inside Jean, the Anemo magic that even Venti himself wasn’t sure if he was responsible for distributing. Poking at it.
Jean visibly winced at the sensation but sighed, again, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “And you’re making this more dramatic than it needs to be. It’s a show of goodwill. Proof that Liyue will not try to assassinate our monarch given the chance,” she held up a hand to stop an oncoming comment. “Whether or not it’s necessary doesn’t matter. If they really become so bothersome after a few days, we’ll make arrangements to send them back once the allyship has been finalized.”
At a loss, Venti turned away from her. “Who is it?”
“A former general, you wouldn’t have heard of him.”
It was the monarch’s turn to sigh now, suddenly very aware of one more shred of respect he had lost from the group of spectators around the two. “Alright,” he said lightly.
“Have the outline for what needs to be planned for the preparations sent to Barbara.” The Archon turned on his heel, approaching the door. With no servants around, Amber jumped to get it before he walked head first into the wood. He didn’t turn back to look at them, his hangover coming back.
He needed a drink. His vision was getting too sharp.