Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Inazuma wasn’t as warm as the game made it out to be, but then again, it never bothered you with the temperature unless you were in Dragonspine or doing something equally foolish. The rainstorm had crept up behind you and, since you were unceremoniously dropped into this world and into the middle of nowhere, you couldn’t find any shelter. So what else could you do besides run into the nearby forest, blindly searching for reprieve from the rain.

You lasted twenty minutes or so, plowing your way through the underbrush before you simply gave up and settled for sitting down under a particularly large branch near a passing brook. Ugh, what a joke this all was. To finally find yourself somewhere you dreamed of being, but appearing completely lost and disoriented. You’d nearly combed over every square inch of these islands through your screen while waiting for the next update, but this- wherever it was in Inazuma- was completely unfamiliar to you.

And now, damp, frustrated, and waiting for the storm to break, you sulked and looked down at the–

“Ah. So here you are.” The voice behind you nearly sent you into the air. You spun around and found yourself staring at a very familiar face.

Irregularly-cropped white hair with a red shock on his right. Black, white, and auburn red clothes in an obviously Japanese fashion. A katana (or some kind of curved bladed weapon- you doubted he’d let you inspect it) strapped close to his waist, decorated in gold and red. Kaedahara Kazuha.

“I was wondering who would be so brave as to forge their own path through this forest,” he mused. “You had me fooled into thinking you knew of proper shelter around here.” He stepped forward. “Would you mind sharing what little there is with me?”

“Sure,” you shifted to the side a little, “not like it was mine to begin with.”

“To your credit,” he sat down beside you, “the beauty here is palpable. It reminds me of my time in Sakae- I have many a fond memory of the village and surrounding autumn forests; the meandering paths, the clear birdsong, the burbling brooks. Were it not so close to an army outpost, I would have visited it many more times since my childhood.” He paused, taking the scene in for a few moments more before turning and pulling out his pack, pulling out a few wrapped items and setting them aside.

You tilted your head. “What’s this for?”

“I used to share a meal with a friend when I wandered around Sakae with him, all that time ago.” He unwrapped a package, revealing a dried, grilled fish, garnished with a few spices. “Besides, I’ve yet to properly thank you for showing this place to me, no?” He pulled out a pair of chopsticks, handing them and the fish to you.

“I–” you hesitated before accepting the meal. “I didn’t exactly lead you here.”

Kazuha unwrapped a second for himself. “The trail of broken twigs and branches says otherwise. We might as well take our lunch now and wait for the storm to break before heading onwards.”

And with that, he started cutting into his meal. You turned to yours, head spinning slightly from how quickly everything was moving. A few minutes ago, you were lost in a forest, and now you’re sitting beside a character from your favorite video game, eating a meal he prepared. You bring a piece of your meal to your mouth and savor the taste, the texture, the salt and the fat. The minutes drifted by like the leaves on the brook and the meals slowly disappeared bite by bite. By the time you and Kazuha finish, you noticed the rain slowly letting up.

“The storms should clear by the time we reach the edge of the forest again,” Kazuha said as he stood. “I do hope you will journey with me, at least for a short while.” He extended a hand to help you up. “I am certain you will have quite a number of interesting stories to tell.”

Chapter Text

The night was long. You had gotten deep into your cups, spurred on by Venti, Kaeya, and Rosaria (and to Diluc’s chagrin) as a celebration for… returning to Mondstadt, and the three seemed determined to use you to empty as much of Diluc’s stockpile as possible.

Or… that’s all you could piece together. Quite honestly, the night was all but a blur. Venti’s songs, Rosaria’s snide remarks, Diluc’s cold stares at your companions, Kaeya’s… flirting?

Which brought you to the current moment, why you were being dragged into the realm of the conscious in the first place. As the world coalesced around you, you found yourself blearily blinking at a weary Diluc who was gently trying to shake you awake.

“Come on, [Y/N], breakfast is almost ready.”

Your thoughts pounded in your head, your limbs protested every simple movement. Thankfully, by expediency of, uh, divinity, these ailments quickly ebbed away. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and wiped away the drool from your mouth. “Mn?”

“You fell asleep right on the stool. I’m impressed; you managed to outlast Venti.” Diluc pulled the towel off his shoulder, cleaning a pool of indeterminate substance off the counter. “And in a strange turn of fate, Rosaria was the last to fall.” He turned back to the kitchen, letting you slowly wake up and come to your senses. By the time you were gradually recalling specific memories from the night before, you heard a plate get set down in front of you- a few fluffy pancakes and a couple strips of bacon.

You reached for the utensils and began to dig in. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry if I was a burden last night.”

DIluc dismissed your worries with a wave. “You’re never a burden here. But,” he turned to the three unconscious people in his bar, “now I must deal with your attendants from last night.” Diluc stepped up to the bar opposite his adopted brother.

Cupping a hand around the other, Diluc snapped his fingers, eliciting a few sparks with each attempt. After the third attempt, a small flame burned just above his thumb that left his glove unscorched. He carefully pulled his other hand away, watching the flame as it flickered and danced.

Unceremoniously, he let the flame drop from his hand, landing in the pool of dried alcohol that surrounded Kaeya.

A brief, furious fire bloomed around Kaeya, snapping the captain out of his rest, and sending him leaping from the bar. In a display of unparalleled dexterity, his foot caught against the stool, sending him sprawling out on the ground, yelping as the flames quickly died out.

As the sudden noise shocked the last two awake, Kaeya pushed himself onto his feet, glaring at Diluc. “Care to explain, brother, why I’ve been so rudely awoken from my rest?”

Diluc turned back to his bar. “You looked cold.”

Chapter Text

Toss, turn.

Toss, turn.

Toss, turn. Toss, turn. Toss, turn.

You slowly sat up, letting the thick covers slide off of you. Sleep was apparently not going to come to you easily. It wasn’t that the bed had the wrong texture, that the sheets were too light, or that there was too much noise. No, everything was perfect in those regards.

The whole issue, you eventually surmised, was that you were sleeping in Diluc’s room.

This wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t something that snuck up on you, it wasn’t that the room was mysteriously cursed. It was just that Diluc was a one-man furnace to whom the phrase “too cold” did not exist. Compared to the rest of the mansion, this room felt almost uninsulated, not to mention that there were barely any blankets left in this room for some reason.

Well, you knew the reason. Someone had left their Creator in a hopelessly cold room, and someone was going to have to pay for that slight.

Blearily, you worked your way over to the edge of the mattress, slipping your legs off the side and working on the slippers. You thought of taking one of the blankets with you to ward off the cold, but your sleep-addled mind (even though you hadn’t actually slept) just wanted to get this all done and over with. Besides, he’d probably wake one of the servants up to put it back.

You trudged your way into the hallway, only to realize you didn’t actually know where Diluc would be. Considering how little of the night had passed, you figured he might still be up and moving, but where was the question. No sense in standing around and waiting for him to come to you, as little as some part of you said that might actually work.

It didn’t take long for you to find some sign of someone- a light slowly growing in an adjacent hallway. A second later, Diluc came into view, checking that the windows were locked, holding two fingers up and casting a small bit of smokeless fire in lieu of a candle.

“Your Grace?” He quickly noticed you shambling in his direction. “Why are you still up?” You wordlessly kept walking towards him, “Your–?” eventually pulling him into a hug at the last moment, burying your face into his chest.

You could feel the heat bleeding off of him even before you were touching him. You half understood why he didn’t mind the cold, and half wondered how the hell everything wasn’t freezing to him.

“Dear Liberator, are– ow,” you pinched him on the back, a gentle reminder of how you thought of all those titles. “Pardon. [Y/N], are you alright?”

“Diluc,” you mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Do you know how cold your room is?”

“How… Certainly not, it’s always been at a fine temperature.”

You pulled back from the hug just enough to glare up at him.

“…What?” You waited. You could be a patient creator, if you wanted to be. He’ll understand, eventually. You watched him cycle through what must have been ten different lines of thought before he settled on something. “Is my room cold?”

“Yes!”

Diluc blinked in uncertainty, like things weren’t quite connecting for him. “I… I sincerely apologize. I–”

“Do you want to apologize or make things better?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I can’t believe you’re this dense.” You let go of him and turned around. “Follow me.”

Diluc obediently trailed you back to his room, making some kind of realization halfway there.

“Your– [Y/N], my deepest apologies,” Diluc pushed the door ahead of you open, “I should not have left you to suffer in these intolerable conditions. If you would but permit me, I hope to remedy the situation.”

You gave your best smug smile. “And how would you do that?”

“By my presence- surely, if I can find these temperatures bearable, might you as well in my company?”

You gave a light, airly laugh, pulling the covers back again. “Well, if that’s how you want to phrase it. Come on.”

You got yourself comfortable as Diluc unlaced and removed his boots, then turned back to you, moving closer as he pulled the covers close over the both of you.

“Not going to change?”

“And leave you to suffer in the cold?”

You rolled your eyes as Diluc inched closer, reaching an arm forward to drape over you. Already, you could feel the warmth begin to spread around you as he adjusted you, setting your head into the crook of his neck. You reached an arm around his waist, greedily searching for more warmth.

At long last, you were finally beginning to relax. One by one, you could feel your muscles relax, and bit by bit you were starting to drift off. Beside you, you could feel Diluc slowly loosen up, his grip slowly fade away, his breathing becoming slower and slower.  Soon, you found yourself

drifting 

off

to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Well, that won’t do.” They reached over and grabbed the blankets and pillow, bringing them closer. “That won’t do at all.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” you stuttered, “it’s not that bad–”

“‘Not that bad’?” The Creator set the pillow down between you and reached out to caress your cheek, “my dearest, favorite acolyte, why should I leave you to freeze in the cold? Come,” They pulled you closer, “share in my warmth, and luxuriate in my presence. There is nothing I would deny for one like you.”

“I–! But, my Liege,” you demurred, “I’m not worthy–”

They set a finger upon your lips. “Stop putting yourself down, dearest. You’re worthy as you are, if not to the world, then to me. Don’t measure your worth the way the world does; under my guiding order, I will not permit such unseemly behavior.”

“Your Grace, Absolute Author… I–” you leaned forward, breaths deepening and heart racing. As you neared, They tipped your chin up and

“–Well?” The page Xingqiu was reading was ripped away from his hands. “Is it good enough?”

“–Uhh,” Xingqiu’s mind staggered back into the real world, attempting to reconnect his thoughts, scattered to the ends of the earth that they were. “I… That is…”

“You got lost reading it, didn’t you?” Chongyun stared him down. “And you haven’t even paid for it!”

“You… look, it’s…” This was, ultimately, Xingqiu’s fault. With the whole craze going around about works featuring their dearest Creator, he had found many of the stories wanting. Any person with access to a pen was trying to publish their own stories, leaving tons of works that could generously be described as “mediocre”. It was here that Xingqiu had the idea to commission someone whose writing abilities he trusted. “…Yes, sorry Chongyun. This is good.”

“Finally,” Chongyun mumbled. “Did you need to take this long to answer a simple question?”

“No, I was just trying to sample what you had written to see if I needed to suggest alterations. The good news is that this looks to be up to my standards.”

“Good to hear.” He held out a hand, palm up.

Xingqiu sighed. “A commission is a commission, isn’t it?” He reached to the pouch on his belt, pulling out the arranged sum, and handing it over to Chongyun. “If I may, where did you find the inspiration for this?”

“…Observations. Our Law-Giver is quite friendly with that contemptible Mondstadtier bard and he certainly seems to revel in Their affections,” he mumbled the next words, tapping his parasol against his sole, “especially during some rather inappropriate times.”

Xingqiu raised an eyebrow. “‘Observations’? Your opening scene took place in a bedroom. Perhaps there is something you would like to confess?”

“Nothing more than someone who is deliberately trying to commission a less than reputable story about our Creator would need to confide to, say, Zhongli? Just someone random off the top of my head, you understand.”

Xingqiu shuddered. “…No, I understand. We keep this quiet, then.”

Chongyun turned to leave, flicking his blindingly white parasol open. “Keep what quiet?”

Chapter Text

(F!Creator)

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

Zhongli measured the paces required to walk across the room, then counted the steps to return. Pacing was certainly not part of his usual repertoire, and even now he worried how much wear he was putting on the old soles of his shoes. Gah, he should have gotten them replaced when he heard that their Architect would soon arrive in Liyue City! No, he should have gotten all his clothes sorted out and more presentable, that would have made a better impression. Or… would it have been better to send Xiao to clean up that old residence he used some five hundred years ago?

Was it right to make that deal with Keqing? She had come up with that plan to ensnare Ningguang, and with her busy, the most likely candidate to soak up all of Her attention was out of the picture for now. All that was left now would be to ingratiate themselves with Her and ensure their standing. It was no sure-fire solution, but with the wildly short notice, it would be the best that they would have.

Zhongli snapped to attention. Out in the hallway, he heard two people approaching. One was Keqing’s voice, the other sounded on strings of gold. The latter voice laughed, a clear chiming sound that he cursed the wall for muffling. It was airy, it was cheerful, it was a balm to his weary ears and heart.

“–And I would like to introduce you to my associate.” As Keqing continued speaking, Zhongli hurried to make himself look fully presentable. “He’s in the employ of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and he’s quite knowledgeable about the corners of Liyue and its history.”

The door glided open, and Zhongli turned and kneeled. “Dearest Creator, History’s Author, Forge of Days and Orator of Order. It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you to the City of Liyue, Land of Contracts and Order,” a shadow neared. Considering the finery just in the shoes and socks, this had to be the Creator. He raised his head slightly and held out a hand, “Demesne of that Archon Rex Lapis.” She set Her hand in his- the Creator, touching him at last! Her gilded caress on him was ten thousand times better than he could have imagined- and he brought it to his lips to kiss. “I sincerely hope that You may find our city–” Zhongli tipped his head up and his next words died in his throat.

There was not a hint of kindness or fondness on Her countenance, only dispassionate indifference. In the space of a heartbeat, Her hand snapped out of his and seized his collar, snapping him up to his feet with an urgency he hadn’t felt in centuries. In the same breath, She pulled his head down, tilted his head to the side, and–

Zhongli’s thoughts stopped dead.

Her Grace, the First Arbitrator, had pulled him in for a kiss. Not a chaste kiss on the cheek, but one to be shared between lovers.

She broke the kiss and pulled away. “There. That oughtta keep you quiet for a hot second, Rexie.” She released Her grip on his lapels and he scrambled to catch himself at the last second. “I’ve tolerated ‘Your Grace’ this and ‘Your Holiness’ that, and I’m drawing a line in the sand here and now.” She spun around to face a Keqing that was too shocked for words, “That goes for you too, Kaykay. Am I clear?”

A blush formed on Keqing’s cheeks. “C-c-Crystal!”

She turned back to him. “How about you, Zhongs? …Zhongs?” She paused, kneeling to more closely inspect the near catatonic archon, a look of frustration crossing her face. “I’m starting to think this stunt was a bit counterproductive…”

(Gn!Creator)

Jean fiddled with the pen in her hand. She wasn’t sure how she should be reacting to this whole situation. The Creator. Here. In her domain. Who specifically requested to talk with her alone. Her. Specifically her. And no one else. With the Creator. In this office.

Stressed? Her? No. She didn’t even know what the word meant!

Someone knocked on her door and she swore she jumped a foot into the air and fumbled, trying to catch her pen. “Jean?” Lisa’s voice was muffled through the door. “Your special visitor is here.”

“O-oh, right.” When had she been gripping the pen so tightly? “Send Them in. Please.” She shook her hand as she stood up, trying to release the tension as she made her way to the front of her desk.

The doors clicked and swung inwards, revealing Lisa, ever with her calm smile. She stepped aside and let Jean see Mondstadt’s Liberator in the flesh. It’s not as though she hadn’t seen Them before- no citizen of this city could avoid the myriad statues, paintings, ore reliefs, but seeing Their Grace was something else entirely.

“Unser Emanzipator,” Lisa swept her hand to Jean in a grand gesture, “may I have the pleasure of introducing you to die Stellvertretender Großmeister, Jean Gunnhildr.”

Jean knelt, her heart hammering in her chest and her pulse sounding in her ears. She tilted her head down and closed her eyes. If only these could truly hide her state from Them. “Atem Führen, I hope to give you the warmest welcome to our city on this fine day. Mondstadt opens its gates and its arms to you on this day and for every day to come. We–”

“Jean…” The tone in Their voice made her freeze. She was no stranger in wanting some connection, some interaction to her dearest Creator, but hearing this hesitation from Them made her lock up. What had she done wrong? How had They judged her wanting? “Please, rise.”

She hurried to stand, her thoughts racing to find what her mistake was, alongside some way of wording her apology. “Y-Your Grace, I–”

Lisa chuckled, snapping Jean’s attention towards her. This is how she was acting in front of The Creator?! “I’ll leave you two to your little chat.” She grabbed the doors and turned to leave, but addressed Their Grace briefly. “Do remember to return those books on time, dearie. I haven’t had to come up with a punishment for someone like You, but please don’t give me a reason to get… creative.” She shut the doors behind herself as she gave one last chuckle.

They had given Lisa a brief glance over Their shoulder, then looked back at Jean. “Look,” They crossed Their arms, “I get it, you’re stressed, meeting a deity- ‘creator’-” They made air quotes at that remark, “is a big thing. But you need to calm down.”

“Calm–! I–!” Jean had a hard time figuring out what to parse first. “Löwenzahn, please tell me that there is some mistake here!”

“Jean. Calm down.”

Jean balked. “I am calm!”

They rolled their eyes. “Clearly not enough, as this can attest.” A hand snapped to hers, turning it over and revealing the ink splotch spread across her gloves. “Here,” They stepped forward, “this should help.”

“Your–!” she tried to take a step back from Their approach, but They were faster. They slipped their arms around her, pulling her in and keeping her from fleeing. “Your Grace, what are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you. Is your work taking that much of a toll on you?”

“Creator–”

“There’s that title again. Look, you can just call me [Y/N], alright? Much easier than remembering all those titles.”

“…Crea–”

“Uh uh! What did I say?” 

Jean grit her teeth. Her hands were shaking and she could feel the blush on her face. What was going on?! “[Y/N]. Please let me go.”

“I’m not letting go until you calm down.”

Jean tried to focus on her breathing, on the doors ahead of her, on the sound of birds chirping outside, but she couldn’t stop the heat rising in her cheeks.

They sighed, shifting Their grip on her. “We may be here a while…”

(M!Creator)

Kujou Sara counted the steps as she crossed the room.

One, two, thee, four, five. She had been accosted by a certain noble time and again today, doing everything in his power to try and edge his way into Tenshukaku Palace.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. She wouldn’t have minded so much if it hadn’t been so clearly stated that the Shogun would not be entertaining the thought of visitors during such an important time.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. And if he were the only fool trying to worm his way in, this wouldn’t be such a huge problem. Word had reached her ears that other, less prominent nobles as well as unscrupulous merchants were seeking the same ends.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. All of this stress built on top of her work in the past days: ensuring the defenses were adequate (though she supposed that she should thank those intruders for testing them for her), directing the guards and their proper rotations, and training to be the personal guard for His Eternal Light.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. The Shogun required her to intensify her training- not that Her Eternity doubted her abilities, but she fully understood that any lapse in judgment, any gap in the armor around His Grace would be ruthlessly exploited in this vulnerable time, and they were not to show weakness while He was–

“Sara?” She almost tripped on her twenty-sixth step. “Kujou Sara? Is that really you?”

Sara recognized that voice. In her dreams, she had heard of the Shogun’s thundering commands echoing into infinity, but intertwined with it, echoing behind and though it was the essence of the Eternity from whom she drew her power and authority. One could not escape the shadow of its presence in Inazuma City, in Tenshukaku, least of all in the presence of the Shogun herself.

She turned and saw and felt Him, not as a reflection nor as an echo. Him, who forged the islands they stood upon and the shores of the infinities. Him, who engineered the thousand components in a human. Him, who set the paths of millions to their proper places, who set the Shogun in her throne, her servants in their places, and who brought her to this position.

And who brought the two of them together in this very room.

He was garbed in the finest that Inazuma had to offer. The deepest, most vibrant violets. The softest, finest silks. The insignias, threaded with gold and silver. Sara wondered if the Shogun harbored the faintest glimmer of envy of His attire. “Thank goodness I finally found you,” He chuckled. “I can’t believe I managed to sneak away from all the guards.”

And who was looking for her?!

She failed to stutter out a response before he continued. “I wanted to find you. A-and to thank you.”

“–Your Grace?!”

“Well,” He brought a hand behind his head, “I mean, you were the first person I pulled way back then. …and, to be honest, the, uh, only good character I pulled. For a long while. I just wanted to thank you for all the work you’ve done, and…”

‘Pulled’? She hadn’t heard that word used with this context. Perhaps there was a meaning that He was using that she was unfamiliar with? Something archaic or poetic? She could at least take a stab at the intended meaning. “Rest assured, Five-fold Light, being in Your service is a delight I would do all over again.”

“… I also wanted to apologize for all the work I put you through.”

“–Your Grace?” She didn’t expect a meeting with The Creator to surprise her in this way this much.

“I mean, I asked so much from you. All the domains, all the bosses, all the commissions and lay line outcrops, all the material runs… all those pigeons of Timmie’s…”

“No, Your Grace, I…” She didn’t recognize most of what He was referring to. She knew that He had called her between her duties for tasks beyond her knowledge and understanding (and beyond what her memories could recall) … but the pigeons? “Please, think nothing of it all. These were tasks You had called me to do.” She knelt in respect. “If You would but call upon your humble servant again, I would follow your every command without hesitation.”

“Sara, please,” there was something in His voice- surprise? Confusion? “You don’t need to kneel in front of me. Uh… Rise. Please.” She complied and He visibly sighed in relief. Was there something she was missing? He glanced over His shoulder. “They’re going to start searching for me soon,” He mumbled. “I should go soon, but first–”

He stepped forward and, before she could react, grabbed her and pulled her in close. Kujou Sara had found herself blessed to have had contact with the Shogun before, but she could have never considered the possibility of the events in front of her.

The Creator, Author of All Joys and Sorrows, held her gently as He kissed her on her cheek.

In that moment, she wondered if her current desire for eternity, to disentangle and remove time from this very moment, outmatched that of the Shogun’s.

Just as quickly as He approached, He pulled back. “I’m sorry to cut this short,” He turned to leave, waving as he went, “I hope to see you again soon!”

Sara’s hand rose of its own accord, first to attempt to wave back, then to caress the spot where He had set a kiss on her. A warmth blossomed in her chest- pride, embarrassment, respect for The Creator, she let her feelings burn through her.

…She turned back to her path. How many steps had she taken?

==

Shika flinched as she heard the sharp crack behind herself. Cleaning under the Guji’s watchful eye was always a stressful chore- one could never tell where her eyes were, in truth. She risked turning around and checking on the priestess’s condition.

Yae Miko sat in her usual place, eyes closed and a concentrated, furious look across her face. Her slowly closing hand was empty but covered in tea; the same drink splashed all over her lap. What could have made her so upset? Was it related to that shadowy fox the other shrine maidens had seen heading towards Tenshukaku Palace?

“Shika, darling.” The Guji’s voice made her flinch anew. “If you’re going to stand and stare, the least you could do is clean as well.”

“I-I’m sorry, I–!”

Yae sighed. “Please, save your excuses. If you’ll excuse me, I must find a change of attire. If you perform poorly in your tasks, I might be able to procure some roast crow for you.”

Chapter Text

iii. The Windwheel Aster (Aster molendinum), native to southwest Mondstadt, has been observed to be attempting to spread southwards beyond the Dragonspine range into Liyue. While the ocean winds are too violent for the seeds to safely traverse, a narrow, survivable corridor exists through the northeasterlies, as a small colony of the specimens can attest. Anecdotes attest to the possibility of these fragile seeds reaching the islands of Inazuma, though few speak well about how they fare. Therefore, concerns about the invasiveness of this plant are wildly unfounded as my incompetent colleague has clearly overlooked in their latest release.

Your head snapped up from your book. You heard someone over the howling winds, and a snarl crept over your face.

“…ace? Your Grace?”

You let out something between a sigh and a grunt, both of frustration. Two days ago, you had had enough with all the parties, all the social events, all the people trying to talk to you and touch you and getting far too nosy for your own comfort. They inundated you with an inordinate amount of questions: “Are You feeling alright, Your Grace?”, “You don’t look comfortable at this party, Revered One, would You like to leave?”, “I’ve heard You get stressed from dealing with people. Shall I set You up with a quiet place in my library?”

Why did they find it necessary to talk to you so much? Was it so hard for them to realize you wanted to be left alone? This is why you stole away in the darkest night, slipping past their guards and wards armed only with your wits, a few books, and the divine power to blow a human-sized hole through a city wall. After deftly escaping from the Knights’ headquarters, then creating a dust cloud that could be seen from Inazuma, you were finally free from the oppressive clutches of Mondstadt and her people. Seizing your newfound freedom, you fled to the one place that no sane human would rationally go to: the Dragonspine Mountains.

If isolation had a price, you were more than willing to pay it.

The climb was hellish and the environs hostile, but you eventually found a cave untouched by human hands for years. It sheltered you little from the biting winds and blowing snow, but here, at last, you thought you could find the solace you dreamed for to finish reading a single book.

But alas.

Even this was too much to ask for from the world because someone had to have the gall to find you here of all places, when you spent literal hours climbing up this mountain and minutes finding this cave!

“Dearest Founder, is something the matter?” You glanced over to see Albedo waltzing into your cave. “I saw something rising from Mondstadt and feared the worst, but I see you here of all places. Has something gone wrong in the city?”

You snapped your book closed. There were things you were willing to deal with, like the minimal interaction needed to secure these books from Lisa, and this wasn’t anywhere close to what you were willing to deal with. You stood up, brushing the snow off yourself before attempting to slip past the intruder in your once-newfound sanctum.

“Please, Your Grace.” His grip landed on your shoulder. The contact and the force stung more than the winds outside ever did. “Everyone down there must be so worried. Let’s get you down there and ease their minds.”

You glowered at his hand. The contact was… certainly unwelcome, but you learned quickly that there was little you could do to protest against “your acolytes’” whims. Every attempt you made to pull from their grip was a fruitless endeavor, from the imposing and muscled guards to the tiny and weak like Klee and Diona. Far too easily and far too often, you were pulled into the lives of others when all you wanted was to be left alone.

Albedo continued to prattle on about the state of the people below, carelessly pulling you along with a “I don’t want to keep them waiting, Our Author,” or a “Please, we must make haste, they’re sure to be worried to death about You.” You sighed, resigning yourself back into the cycle once again.

Maybe they’d finally understand and give you more time to read this time around.

===

“Albedo, my confidants are beginning to ask questions. By the Creator, I hope you have a cover story.”

“What are they saying?”

“They think you kidnapped Them and tried to steal Them away to your mountain, only to return when your conscience got the better of you.”

“And you, of all people, should know that would be impossible. The timing of events is impossible to resolve with an in-and-out kidnapping attempt, not to mention the absurdity of punching through ten feet of masoned stone without so much as scratching any of the other nearby buildings.”

“Mm. I was never convinced of their theories, in any case. You’ll need to defend yours to them, though.”

“There’s always one way to be absolutely sure about what happened.”

“…You and I both know that will never work.”

“I know. At this point, getting the response isn’t the goal.”

Chapter Text

Windrise was a calming place to lie down and let the world drift by. The soft bursts of wind blowing through the branches and across your face, the quiet trills of the birds as they danced and flapped around each other, the shifting shadows from the clouds and leaves. Venti had suggested spending the day, or an afternoon, resting here beneath the wide-spreading oak tree and let the stresses and worries in the city fade–

It wasn’t a simple flinch. That damn thought darkened the threshold of your mind again, jarring your thoughts, shocking your senses, and wrenching you out of the calm, peaceful moment you were in. You brought a hand to your temple, trying to brush the stinging thought away.

“Hmn?” Venti, who just moments ago was dozing half against your shoulder, picked his head up, brushing a few locks of hair out of the way and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Whu…?”

“It’s nothing, Venti.” You tried to settle back down. “Don’t mind me.”

His head tilted and his brow furrowed each to the slightest degree. “Are You sure? That didn’t feel like nothing. Did You have… that thought again?”

“No,” you lied, “it’s fine, let’s just get back to sleep, Venti.”

You laid back down, but Venti hesitated for only a moment. Eventually, instead of joining you, he turned and held a hand out to the air, like there was someone who was about to hand him something. It took a few seconds but down from the cloud of leaves flapped a single butterfly, gliding down on various small drafts. A few more began to follow as the first one neared, then landed on Venti’s outstretched hand.

Venti turned back to you and began to lie down, careful to not jostle his hand too much. He spoke only when he was settled on your side. “Here,” he gestured for you to bring your hand up to his. “A trade.

“I will trade You that terrible memory,” he emphasizes the last three words, but only just, “for one that I have of a young oak tree, covered in butterflies.”

You held your hand out close to his and the butterfly, a black-veined drop of amber glowing against the tree above, began to crawl down Venti’s hand toward yours.

He continued. “A hundred monarchs resting on their long flight have lit here, on these verdant branches. You reach out,” the butterfly crossed the small gap onto your fingers, each light step tickling your skin, “and the tired creatures crawl onto your arms, wings slowly parting and closing, parting and closing as they breathe.” There were more of those butterflies flitting in the air, dozens now, twirling down towards you. They began to converge, one after another landing on your outstretched hand and down to your arm. “They rest, covering you in magic. You spin in the sunlight, laughing. You are very small, and they glow like candles behind colored glass.

“I will trade you,” his hand pulled away, “one awful, inescapable thing for this one golden moment in time, this moment of honeycomb light and a warm autumn day tapering to endless evening.”

The butterflies clustered together on your hand, dancing around as they explored your skin. At this angle in the light, some of them even seemed to glow–

===

Darting between the rows, I barely catch the sight of blue locks in a sea of green and violet. The grounds are not even here, but we know them well from the hours we have spent with each other and under the charge of the servants. We have traced each row a thousand times by now, and we will follow them a thousand more. My brother hides from me now, but cannot evade me forever.

===

It wasn’t a long fall and the ground wasn’t all that hard. I managed to catch the beetle but got a scrape in the process. Granny must have heard and runs out, looking all worried about me. She pulls me aside, grabs some supplies, and starts treating my knee with the most caution I’d seen out of her. Washing the mud away, applying the gauze, holding my hand as she brought me inside… Come on, I wasn’t crying that hard, alright?

===

Some mornings, when I go out to gather shells and shiny stones before the sun rises too high, I would find the tides receded and the rocky shores forming a handful of tidal pools. My heart aches for the poor creatures trapped within, locked in those diminutive spaces, so I would run to each of them, gathering as many as I could in my arms before dashing to return them to the sea. I always wondered what became of the ones I saved…

===

You blinked as a few of the butterflies took off from your hand, and those unfamiliar memories disappeared from view but still lingered in your mind. A few others began to catch the light.

===

There are so many things to love about the mountains, but one of the best things is walking around on a blanket of snow! The kiss of the cold air, the crunch of the snow, the warmth from the vision… But the very best is when it’s still snowing, and you can walk around, spinning and catching the snowflakes on your tongue. And when we get back, there’s always some hot cocoa to enjoy!

===

I remember walking these paths ten thousand times, but every time, I’ve walked a different forest. The trees bend slightly from day to day, the mosses huddle on the edges of the wooden planks, the streams burble different songs, the winds carry different tones. The birds gloat about their secrets, and the creatures scrabble in the leaves for trinkets. I’ve always wondered what the next trip will bring.

===

The sun has set some time ago, and I have been called to her side. She pulls me in, checking the ropes to be snug, but not tight. She whispers the reminder to me again, to keep them beside me at all times as she pulls a wing over my tiny body. Her soft feathers brush against my skin and her warmth bleeds into mine. Held tight like this, there is little I can do but drift off to sleep.

===

A few more butterflies scatter to the winds, but the others cling on. You feel something pull away from you, like an old, rotten leaf brushed off your clothes.

“Look,” Venti says, pulling his hand away, “you have made the trade. You can take your memory back anytime, but you don’t need to bear it always. I will hold it for you so that, for a while, it can be smaller and further away.

“Look,” Venti whispered. “Look at the butterflies.”

Chapter Text

Dark clouds hovered over the city of Liyue, glacially turning like an eye bearing down upon its inhabitants. An occasional bolt of lightning arced between the clouds, tinted ominously. Beneath them, the Jewel and its Harbor sat silently, almost waiting to receive their oncoming fate whatever it may be.

Many hills away, a figure half-staggered, half-ran down a quiet road, slowing and coming to a stop as they rested against the nearby rock wall, breathing heavily and clutching at their wounds. Behind them trailed a line of what was no longer blood. In the days past, they saw gold and gemstones of the deepest hues, but now the errant splatters behind them turned into shards of pale opal and the basest of metals.

The little-recognized Creator grit their teeth. Why? Why did any of this happen? A simple excursion into town, under a disguise no less, to purchase a few inconspicuous items. But no, the wrong words at the wrong time drew suspicion, a request turned to a demand. The Yuheng and her retinue had already drawn their conclusions, and they descended to seize their target. The guards tried to coerce a confession and get them to earn their sentence, but they held strong, earning them only the reprieve of a cell.

They knew little of the public story. The Tianquan had tried to interfere, as she always does, but only to impose her means and her name onto the process. Few of the elite, it seemed, were contesting the ends of the endeavor.

Word spread quickly, and the news of injustice spread faster. Half-truths and quarter-truths found their ways to the ears of those in lands abroad, sparking rage and indignation. Mondstadt could only spare her prayers, but a few brave souls managed to trade their freedom for another’s- they garnered all the attention they could to allow their Beloved a chance.

A chance that was almost turned to naught, their flight plagued with danger around every corner. The incident, combined with the recent preparations, had diverted the guards’ attention, but the same preparations had made them all ill at ease. Three times the Creator had been spotted trying to flee from the city, but the wounds and scars Liyue had given them acted as doors, of a type.

The city’s lights and lanterns slowly grew dimmer and smaller, but the growing storm only lingered and continued to gather. The golden city remained, preparing itself for its upcoming trial, not by books and laws, the Creator realized, but by steel and blood, by muscle and visions, by Geo against Electro.

On the horizon, wreathed in lightning, heralded by thunder, and beneath violet sails, a navy approached. An indignant rage, purified by injustice against the infinities, sought to strike the upstarts clean. No wonder those fools unguided by an Archon’s hand would make so great a mistake. A reminder is due.

The Qixing saw things quite differently. That candle of a nation that so often burned against itself sought a new fuel to burn, and saw nowhere better to strike than their shining city. What could those wayward islands know of justice, hunting down their own? Best for them to leave others’ affairs be.

But dealings between the two were always strained, eager to seek a spark for the touchpaper. Even now, deep in the night as it was, the dragon and tiger neared, circling and eyeing each other’s weaknesses and shortcomings. Fangs gleamed and claws shone.

A great light grew in the city, then a second, then a third. The roars reached the Creator’s ears, confirming their greatest fears. Fires began to flare, devouring buildings and supports and stalls and people all the same. The winds shifted and fed the flames, and the navy descended towards where the dragon’s scales were peeled away.

The smoke billowed up, carrying away the souls of the first to perish. The ships’ cannons belched fire and steel, tearing into the garrison. A great palace began to glow amber and drive back the ships at bay, only to be stopped by a terrible amethyst bolt tearing through tile and stone alike.

Soldiers began to disembark, guards formed ranks. The docks fell swiftly, the defenders sabotaged from behind. Some approaching ships exploded in sprays of splinters and screams, but not enough to slow them.

The city descended. Frenzied soldiers began to pour through the port’s gates into the city proper. Marshalls barked orders at their unprepared underlings. Civilians fled, sometimes finding escape, sometimes finding men-at-arms, sometimes finding their only paths blocked. The fires, of course, consumed all without judgment.

And so far away from it all, the branded Creator beheld the two great powers draw each others’ blood. Bones broke, arrows flew, pikes gouged. Steel clashed, hopes and futures disappeared, livelihoods turned to ash.

And the Creator wept, for there was nothing else to do.

There was word from the wind that a haven may yet exist, beneath countless miles of stone, swallowed in the depths of the earth and sealed away in its lithic coffin where death cannot truly touch it and where death cannot truly escape. So many others had sought that place to smother an unceasing curse and leave behind the world.

Perhaps there, you figured, you might find some company to weaken the one you bore.

Chapter Text

There was a welcome chill in the air as the two guards walked down the well-trodden path. A few leaves had begun to change their colors; it would not be long before the rest would follow suit. It was a quiet path, even though it was a well-known and well-traveled path. Dozens took this path out and around Inazuma City every single day, bringing their thanks, well-wishes, and gifts.

One of the guards was dealing with the last, carrying in his arms an elegantly carved cherry-wood lockbox, inlaid with amethyst and iolite. Every day, her Immortality gathered offerings, some from the noble houses, into boxes like these to be blessed by a priest and then sent down the path. It was rare for him to get a glimpse of the contents, but he’d seen them this morning. He did wonder why these things were being sent on- mushrooms, thieves’ insignias, rusted machine parts and smoldering cubes. He’d heard that yesterday’s offering had a beetle try to slip out from under the lid.

It wasn’t his job to worry about Their Light’s offerings, however. Ahead of him, the path made its final turn.

At the end of this famous path lay the humble shrine of the Creator, a pearl of Inazuma City. The nobles constantly fought against the Shogun, wishing to expand this shrine that sat so dear and close to Their heart, but time and again She rebuffed their efforts, keeping this place as such.

The low, red and white walls ringed the plot, a tall and wide gate sitting astride the few stairs up to the main area. Sitting as though built into the great sakura tree that dominated the place was the heart of the shrine- a bulletin board, crooked and cracked with age and wear but still standing, sturdy and strong. Paper grew from it, forming sheets and knots; ink occasionally seeped from the cracks, swirled around by an invisible force. Offerings were given at this shrine in the Creator’s honor, and if They were pleased, messages or orders would come loose from the board. This was the daily dealings that Inazuma and her Shogun did with their God.

Sitting all around the shrine were the gifts laid and structures built, either left by the Creator in distaste or taken in gratitude and sublimated into the great tree that dominated the shrine. Prayer slips illegible and jutting from the bark everywhere, fine jewelry being absorbed by errant branches, food being digested inside baskets woven from living roots.

The guards frowned as they approached the center of the shrine. There, like in any of the other days, sat the irregular sheet of paper the Creator had made for them that day, the one that they were tasked to retrieve for Her Eternity. But instead of a pristine paper marked with neat lines of characters, a stream of thick ink poured down its length, dripping into the pan that collected what fell from Their board. Before either of them could react, something on the board broke, sending several half-formed sheets, several malformed and knotted wads of paper, and the ruined orders tumbling down into the pan alongside a new burst of ink.

The two guards shared a glance. This had been happening with concerning frequency these days- what should have been a simple offer-and-receive turned into… this. The guard with the box went off to set the offerings down and retrieve yesterday’s container, freeing it from the day’s growth of branches while the other guard inspected the board more closely.

Advice for a marriage, encouragement to give things another try, admonishment for lying to a friend… the handwriting was all identifiable and identical, but nothing on the board looked like it was what he was supposed to look for. No official seal, no addressing of the Shogun or any of her major subordinates, nothing. It took a minute more of searching before he found something promising, folded inside of one of the sizable knots that broke earlier. Pulling the paper out and inspecting it, he realized it was what they were looking for.

Once he read it fully, he realized that it was but another harbinger of unrest.

There was an uncomfortable chill in the air. Kamisato Ayato and Guji Yae Miko outwardly sat calmly on opposite sides of the table, but everyone else in the room shifted their gazes between the two with visible unease. Not only were these two bright minds of Inazuma frequent foes, skirmishing over any minute detail that got in between them, the world had given them something new over which to lash out at each other- as well as those unfortunate to be in the same room. In fact, two of their frequent targets were in the room at that very moment.

With visible wariness and caution, Thoma set a steaming cup of tea in front of Ayato. Ayato glanced down, delicately grabbed it, and took a sip. “Thoma.”

He flinched. “Y-Yes, Waka?”

“Do you remember my order for tea?”

“Of course I–”

“What was it?”

“Black tea with a touch of milk–”

“And?”

Thoma sighed. “Waka, we both know that there weren’t any of those tapioca beads here. It’s an odd enough good that we had difficulty procuring them for the estate, how do you think they would stock those here?”

“Then perhaps my servants should have thought ahead, hm? Quite unwise to think of a beloved of the Creator like this.”

There was an unsettling chuckle, sending a chill down the spines of most of those in the room. “My my, little Ayato,” Yae Miko smiled behind a hand fan, “perhaps one should know how that Great One expects Their chosen to behave before admonishing others.”

“Oh,” Ayato laughed back, “a thousand pardons. I was just caught off guard, being chastised about ‘proper behavior’ by someone who must have the rite of penance memorized by rote.”

“How cute. Perhaps one might need a reminder about who was elected Their chosen first.”

“Perhaps one needs a reminder of who was chosen after putting their old, disused toys away.”

There was a sudden tinge of ozone in the air. “Do you think Their Grace has abandoned Their beloved? Come now, do you really wish to test that assumption?”

Another voice joined the conversation, one that had remained calm through the developing argument. “Now now,” Shikanoin Heizou looked up from his pile of snacks, “both of you back off; no sense in wasting your breath on each other. The Truth and Light can have more than one favorite, can’t They?”

Yae spared a glare his way. “Such a thing is easy to say for a simple mind that demands all of Their attention. Do you think no one found it odd that a certain someone necessitated a new set of artifacts? I just wonder what might possess a mind like that to claim that they ‘could not resonate’ with a set of artifacts that worked exceptionally well for everyone before them. Quite curious indeed.”

“For your information–”

The grand doors at the end of the hall slid open, revealing a simply-dressed attendant. The room quickly hushed, sitting attentively to the announcements she would proclaim on Their behalf. She took a seat at the end of the table, not hiding her discomfort in being near Yae and Ayato.

She cleared her throat as she straightened out the papers in her hand. “Their grace has again accepted our offerings and has given our nation new orders for training and improvement of Their favored. Those from Inazuma include the prestanding…” she hesitated, “Shikanoin Heizou and Thoma.”

The mood in the room darkened. “…And?” Ayato asked.

Yae leaned in. “Who else?”

The attendant seemed scared of what she was about to say. “Alongside the two newcomers…”

“ Newcomers. ” The word slid off her tongue dripping with disgust.

“Well,” Ayato asked, “who are they?”

At that moment, the other, less impressive, set of doors slammed open. Everyone turned to look at the intruders to the reading of their Creator’s guidance. Silhouetted in the doorway was a broad, muscled wall of a person whose overcoat was flung open. Red lines traced his body ending at two crimson horns, stark against his white hair.

A great voice boomed through the room. “Guess which Oni finally had their dream about that golden comet! That’s right, Arataki ‘The One and Oni’, ‘Numero Uno’ Itto! Here to take his rightful place alongside all the other Vision holders atop Inazuma City and serve That Big One Above The Sky!”

A tired voice behind him spoke up. “Boss…”

Itto quickly pulled a person from behind him up to his side, rambling through his next sentences quickly. “–Alongside the Deputy Assistant of the Arataki Gang, Kuki Shinobu! Who had her dream of the violet comet just last night. And who would also very much like to work for Them.”

As the guards escorting the two interlopers pushed them into the room and gently guided them to their seats, the rest of the room turned their eyes to the attendant in disbelief. She struggled to meet any of their gazes, choosing instead to bury her head in the paper she held. “The two newcomers are… Arataki Itto and Kuki Shinobu.”

The reactions were… less than ideal.

Most of the people in the room were venting their frustrations at each other or at the attendant, in complete disbelief that the Guarantor of Eternity would choose, much less give an iota of attention, towards the braggart oaf of Inazuma. But two people in the crowd aimed their frustrations at a specific target.

“Curious,” Yae Miko glowered at the newest members of the team, “I thought Their Grace only bothered to call upon their servants who had more than a handful of sense in their skulls.”

“Yes,” Ayato continued. “I thought our Undying Light chose only the best and brightest, but They must certainly be taking pity on the… less-deserving. ”

“Ah, you know,” Itto shrugged, “felt like a coin toss whether you get picked or not. I guess I won this time! And hey,” his tone began to sharpen, “perhaps They just wanted someone that didn’t complain about others all the time and who can actually, you know, care about other people? They’re more than just the god of being high-and-mighty.”

“Boss,” Shinobu grabbed his attention. “They’re jealous and trying to get a rise out of you. Deep Peal’s had Their hands full and the flunkies are upset that They’re not paying attention to them. Let them huff and be upset all they want, you and I are the ones getting attention.”

“Oh, I see…” He turned back to the two insufferable Vision-wielders. “So is it true? You two just have your underwear in a twist over nothing?”

“Boss!”

“My,” Yae cut in, “what an observant little weasel. I wonder which of us Electro users might actually be of use to Their Grace. A priest hundreds of years in training, or a little runaway who can’t bear to show her face and true colors.”

“Hey,” Itto stood up quickly, partially shoving the table back, “back off! You clearly don’t prove that age makes you better, you hag! Memory serves, I was the one who won our little competition while you called it quits! So clearly, the Head Honcho prefers someone with a little staying power. ”

Ayato raised an eyebrow. “ This coming from the Oni who was laid out for weeks? Yes, excellent display of constitution, there.”

“You too? Alright, bring it! Both of you, right now, I’ll prove I can–!”

A great, snarling peal of thunder broke through all the noise, drowning out every voice in the room, rattling the walls and windows, reverberating inside the chests of all gathered. Everyone froze, the thunder continuing to roll as the seconds dragged on. When it finally subsided, the room hung deathly silent as few seemed willing to make another sound.

The attendant cleared her throat. “…Shall we move to the next bullet on the agenda?”

Chapter Text

Zhongli had never been all that curious of an individual. He was more than happy to let certain curious things be than question their behavior or state. Entanglements like that usually got in the way of him leading his nation in the past and were sometimes no more than ploys by Venti to get his attention away from the Creator. Given that, he felt more comfortable pondering the curiosity you seemed to vest so much time into both when the acolytes were around and away, since it was no ploy by that Anemo Archon.

The first time he saw it, he was astounded at what it was- a handleless rectangular hand mirror, the glass tinted so dark as to make its usage unfeasible. He wondered if Their Grace were checking Themself, ensuring everything was in place, but that wouldn’t explain the later times where they seemed to longingly gaze into its surface. It was quite a while later that he was able to see Them using it from a different angle- he had been chosen to provide the afternoon tea and managed to catch a glimpse of Them peering at Themselves- or so he had thought.

The surface of that curious item was shining brilliantly, like it were a star in the palm of Their hand, like it were a powerful scrying glass viewing into another world. He was almost able to catch a glimpse into what Their Grace was watching, but the illusion flickered away before he could recognize anything. Their Grace turned to face him, and he made a bit of light talk to get Their mind off the possibility that he were looking over Their shoulder.

In the days since, he’d idly considered the hand mirror in the quieter moments of the day, wondering what The Arbiter saw in it and why it drew Their attention so much. He could reach no concrete conclusion but figured that he wasn’t the only one to ponder this curiosity. Their Grace was soon to travel to Inazuma and he had the fortune to be Their attendant- though it wasn’t to his total pleasure, as he would have to deal with the drunkard bard not only vying for Their attention but causing general mayhem in Inazuma. A nuisance, to be sure.

And a nuisance he was, at least for a short while. The Raiden Shogun had graciously decided to have a few guards keep an eye on him when he was otherwise unsupervised. The disturbances in the city had mysteriously and suddenly declined, for some inexplicable reason.

Zhongli had pulled the Shogun aside one day, when both Their Grace and Venti were preoccupied with each other, and asked her if she knew anything about The Organizer’s strange hand mirror.

She considered the question. “…No,” she replied after thorough consideration, “I haven’t the slightest idea what it could be. I considered it to be one of those Kameras smuggled in from Fontaine for a while. I had wondered why the model was so small and thin until one of my handmaidens pointed out that the devices are still quite large and bulky. Unless Our Eternity is an inventor or tinkerer Themselves, I doubt they would have the interest in that sort of activity.”

“I considered it a strange looking glass, but its shape and size are… not standard. Not to mention that its surface is tinted…”

“A curiosity indeed.”

“I suppose there is one way to get an answer.” Zhongli led the way back to where the Creator and Venti were, finding the latter searching through his luggage and the former, luckily, pulling out the strange device. They were about to activate it when They noticed the two Archons’ arrival.

They gave a wonderfully warm smile. “Zhongli! Ei! Perfect timing. I wanted to show you three something, now that you’re all three in the same place.”

Zhongli was caught off guard. “–Oh?”

“Yes! Come on,” they patted the seats beside Themself, “I think you’ll love this!” They suddenly seemed to have second thoughts. “Well…”

“There’s no need to doubt Yourself, Orator of Order.” Zhongli took his seat to Their left. “I’m sure we’ll be delighted by whatever Your gift is.”

“Well, i-it’s not really a gift …”

“As Morax says,” Ei elegantly lowered herself down onto the cushion to Their right, “we will be pleased, whatever it will be, whatever form it shall take.”

“Then…”

“Besides!” Venti cut in from the other side of the room, before running straight at Their Grace and vaulting over the table, landing squarely on Their lap. “We won’t turn down an opportunity to spend time with you! Right?” He glanced at the two archons around him before his face paled two shades whiter. “…R-Right?”

The Archons seated beside you glared down in distaste at the diminutive wind spirit in Their lap, making their displeasure towards his little stunt well known. Zhongli got his steel grip on the bard’s sleeve before They could intervene- “Anyway!” Snapping the strange hand mirror to attention and flicking it on, They stole the Archons’ attention, “Shall we? I think you’ll like the GMV!”

“‘GMV’?” Zhongli raised an eyebrow, “What do those letters–”

“Here we are!” A few taps and swipes upon its surface, and the shining mirror glowed. Faster than he could recognize anything the images on its surface seemed to blur past as They worked the strange device. The screen only showed a black field with a few blue speckles, overlaid with a white triangle. “Let’s begin!” One last tap, and the image began to change.

It took a few seconds for Zhongli to realize the hand mirror was emitting a song. By the time the thought registered, Venti had seen the screen advance- and reacted to what he saw by covering it entirely.

“Whoawhoawhoa, how’d you find–”

“Venti,” Their Grace pulled his hands away, “stop blocking the screen!”

Between the bard’s fingers, Zhongli made out an image of the bard, scantily dressed in a white cloth, before switching to one of Zhongli in one of his younger forms, then to one of Ei. For a moment, he wondered how depictions of each archon had ended upon the strange device of Theirs, especially ones so antiquated and stylized, but dismissed the question- of course the Creator could access those snippets of history.

As the song began in earnest, Zhongli recognized the lyrics to be in Old Liyuean- a dialect a few centuries past. His skills in it were rusty from disuse, but he could still make out the words. He found it curious how the song seemed to be speaking to the three archons- commiserating with Venti, then Zhongli, then Ei in turn.

As the song continued, extolling Venti’s virtues and goals, Zhongli grabbed the kettle and poured himself some tea. He was still listening to the song, to be sure, but he knew the bard did not need any further help creating more stories for himself. Furthermore, Venti would be the one archon who already knows about any pieces of history regarding himself.

He brought his cup up during a brief break in the song, where a woman delivered a line, and afterward barely kept himself from dropping the cup in shock.

<Morax,> the deep, familiar voice of Azdaha rumbled, <if it is fated, we will meet again.>

Zhongli choked on his tea, the cup almost falling from his hands and clattering to the table. How? How was he hearing this? How did Their Grace know about his promise and place it here? How did it get replicated so perfectly? How was it playing here and now?

And… why?

His disbelief lingered through the next piece of the song. Something about Venti and his dragon, something about Ei losing her companions. He could barely register the images and lines about him through the shock, of how one’s old comrades can only be found in memories. 

The next lines brought him back to reality. “Love you, who sculpts spears to subdue the raging ocean/ Love you, who wanders the land with adepti at your side.” Thanks, adorations… given by the Creator to him? “Love your thousand years of vigilance/ Over your corner of the world.” Complicated emotions bloomed in Zhongli’s chest. The Creator praising him? Why, over those things he had done so long ago, and especially during those times where he doubted The Forge’s creation and The Shaper’s ways?

“Mourn those who change form to voice their sorrows,” the song continued, “Mourn those who are forgotten by mortals” . Zhongli knew these commands all too well personally- to see the world leave behind those he knew, to see them fall into the waste bin of history and hear their names turn from fond remembrance to distant memories to myths and lore, the people wholly disconnected and scarcely believing the original person’s existence. How much longer would Liyue, and Teyvat beyond, remember him? How much longer would the Creator?

“Mourn the memory of dust and the fragrance of flowers,” the song drove the questions further into the parts of his heart that he thought had long hardened.

“Where are those old friends now?”

‘Only in memories,’ he knew; only in the fading ink of dusty tomes; only in scattered poems, unrecited for the shame.

“Will you go? Are you worthy?” Zhongli subconsciously eased the grip on his cup. Was he worthy? Should he have gone with those who had gone ahead? All the sudden, this one song, this one question, had shaken centuries, if not millennia of acceptance of his situation- so, so many of his peers he had been left behind.

Was he wrong? Was Their Grace judging him?

“But we will fight,” the song moved on, bringing Zhongli with it, “We will/ For the prosperous dreams/ For the old friends and enemies of the last thousand years.” He felt a small spark settle within himself, something of hope. Was Their Grace speaking well of him? Were They now trying to rally his spirit and will? Were they–

“Returning to old haunts to lament the taste of wine.”

He blinked a few times as the line seemingly struck him across the face. Did it–? Why did it–? Why stop and take the time to–?

He brought a hand to his face, now seemingly able to see the situation anew. This song was not an admonition of him and his actions (how could he ever have come to that conclusion?!), it was a celebration of each of the archon’s lives and legacies, of their achievements and tribulations. Their Grace wanted to share that They were there, with and watching over them all this time.

The song turned to Ei, talking about her history and actions. Zhongli could not help but smile. This whole time, the answer had been staring him in the face, how could he have been so blind to miss it? Maybe he had been letting himself get too lost inside of his own thoughts.

The last notes of the song faded out, Venti spun around to adulate the Creator. “That was amazing! I… didn’t understand it at all, but the photographs were beautiful! How did You capture those scenes? Did you take them Yourself?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I just–”

“I thought it was pleasant, Your Eternity,” Ei cut in, “I was not much interested in it to begin with, but I found myself warming up to it as it went on.”

Venti scoffed. “You were just interested in the stuff that dealt with you.”

“I would say that the parts pertaining to my nation and me would be more captivating than the idle goings-on of Mondstadt.”

“At least I don’t start civil– ”

“Zhongli!” You clamped a hand over Venti’s mouth, “what did you think? Please tell me you have something to– Er, Zhongli?”

“It was beautiful,” he smiled and raised his cup, “truly, a tour de force of the gathered Archons and their lives. I don’t think I could cover the span of my thoughts on the matter in a full hour.”

Venti pushed your hand from his mouth. “Not that you need a reason to talk on and on…”

“Oh, should I, dear bard? You yourself love a good story, do you not?”

“Don’t get me started…”

Thousands of miles away, a lonely girl sat in her room, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“…Why,” Nahida mumbled to herself, “do I feel left out of something?”

Chapter Text

It had all started so simply.

During a meeting you were dragged to with a handful of business leaders in Liyue (where they bowed and scraped and tried to cultivate your favor), you introduced them to a game you liked: Diplomacy. You thought it would have been a good fit for them- strategic thinking, cooperation, learning how long to trust people. It took a bit of setup to create a map that would work and it took a while to remember and relay the rules to the different players, but as soon as they understood the rules, they began digging into the game and exploring the layers of complexity underneath it all.

You quickly saw alliances form and melt, deals get made and backstabs performed, promises made and broken. It was all in good fun, they each knew, and all part and parcel of the game and how it played; something their Creator enjoyed and wished to share with them.

The night came to a close, and the business leaders returned to their homes. The next day, they returned to their businesses, bringing the game with them and spreading the rules to whomever was interested. By the end of the week, it had spread north to Mondstadt, crossed the sea to Inazuma, and reached the Akademia’s halls. By the next, it had taken root in those places and spread like wildfire among the population.

It was many different things to the people. For most, it was a fun diversion. For some, it was a problem to be cracked and analyzed, something to theorize over and experiment with. For others, it was a means to use their diplomatic skills, to promise, probe, and plead, to balance, barter, and betray.

It could have been left there. It could have just been a fad that might have burnt itself down to a simmer some time later.

But you had to make that one innocent comment.

In Mondstadt, a game was brewing between a few individuals of poor rapport. Diluc, Kaeya, and Jean stood against a few Fatui agents, each side assured that they had the best player. Three against two, they set about searching for the last two players they’d need for a full game. Childe was talking to you when they asked him to join.

“I couldn’t,” he raised his hands defensively and dismissed Jean’s offer. “Really, I’m not interested.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, “Why not? Don’t you have a reputation to uphold?”

He smiled but shook his head. “Were it a different kind of combat, Your Grace, there would be no chance for me to turn it down.” He took a sip of his drink. “I’m more the tactical than the strategic type.”

“Anyone could win,” you said. “Tell you what. You show me a good game and win, and I’ll do you a little favor.”

Childe froze, the cup falling from his hands and the drink spilling over the table. He shoved his chair back and turned as he stood, marching over to the few people setting up the board, slamming his hands on the table. “Count me in.”

He lost, horribly. He barely managed to last four turns before a coalition of Jean, Diluc, and one of the Fatui agents wiped him off the board. The game continued with Childe sitting on the sidelines and glaring at the one agent that betrayed him, the victor was found and celebrated, but that playful promise of yours planted another, more dangerous seed.

When the game of Diplomacy spread throughout Teyvat, smaller tournaments blossomed shortly afterward, to find the best of the players in each nation. A few enterprising individuals came up with the idea to host an international tournament, one that drew from southeastern Teyvat. While it boasted a hefty Mora reward for the highest-placed victors, the real prize was the prestige of being the uncontested winner of the Creator’s game.

And then you had to insinuate that you might personally reward the overall winner.

If your game spread like wildfire, you may as well have doused all of Teyvat in gasoline.

The past energy which people had before paled compared to the newfound desire to chase after even the slimmest chance of the Creator’s pure attention, rumored though it may have been. These last games burned with fervor and conviction that few had seen before, refining the pool of players from scores to dozens, then to the handful of furious semi-finals, from which the seven finalists emerged.

And today, the champion would be determined. The host, the state of Liyue, had spared no expense for this final game. The same building in which you had first shared your game had been secured to host the finals. The map was printed on gold-lined silk, each region painted in rich, vibrant pigments, lavishly detailed and seemingly rising off from the sheet. The counters for the different nations’ armies and navies, hand carved from priceless gemstones and inlaid with gold.

Spectators slowly filtered in as the start time drew near. Nobles, aristocrats, and merchants from Monstadt to Sumeru (and some from further afield) flocked to watch the match play out and gathered that morning. Many took the chance to socialize and build connections but many more hoped to catch the eye of their Beloved Creator that morning.

You were brought to the hall while the sun was still rising; only you, Adjudicator of Fates, could suffice to usher such an important game. You were ushered in with the warmest welcomes from all parties and highest fanfare, paraded around to the different important peoples: sages from Sumeru, nobles and their scions from Mondstadt, you even had the fortune to meet the Yuheng and the Raiden Shogun themselves before being ushered to your seat, in the middle of the side of the table.

Each of the invited nations showed off their own players and allowed them to take their seats: first Jean, who would play Mondstadt, sat off to your left, then Diluc, playing Natlan. Next was Yae Miko playing Inazuma, then Ayaka playing Snezhnaya. Alhaitham sat opposite you and played Sumeru. Finally, the players from Liyue entered, the most lavishly-dressed of the players: Yelan, playing Fontaine, sat to your right; and Ningguang, playing Liyue, sat to your left.

As the players took their seats, Keqing stood and addressed the crowd, welcoming them all and thanking them for their presence. She thanked the tournament organizers for their work on the events, past and present. Lastly, she turned to you and thanked you for sharing this game with them and allowing them to partake in its joys and sorrows. Her thanks given, she declared the finals to have begun.

The game entered its first phase and the players broke to meet with each other and plan their alliances. Everyone scrutinized who went to talk with who, which people the other players wanted to speak to, and how the dealings were going. Jean took Yelan aside and tried to make some earnest dealings with her, Alhaitham argued with Ningguang, and Diluc and Ayaka spoke with each other, hidden off in their corner of the board. Yae Miko sat back and kept an eye on the dealings, keeping secret just who she was eyeing as an ally or a target.

As discussions broke down between Ningguang and Alhaitham, Yae rose and asked to have a word with the latter. Ningguang went to request Jean’s ear, then Yelan tried to make a deal with Ayaka. On and on the diplomatic dance went until the time for the first round was called and the players returned to their seats to submit their orders.

You read, adjudicated, and executed the orders, shuffling the armies and navies across the map. The players eyed each move in turn, sometimes glaring at another player when a deal failed to materialize.

The second round of discussions quickly started, Alhaitham angrily pulling Yae aside, Jean hurrying over to speak to Yelan. Ningguang, without anyone to immediately turn to and make deals with, went to speak with Diluc and Ayaka.

The diplomatic maneuvers continued, and even you could start to see the lines being drawn. The drag-out four-way war between Sumeru, Inazuma, Liyue, and Mondstadt was in full swing: Liyue was fighting with Mondstadt and Sumeru over their border cities while Inazuma was looking for any opening to exploit, but Jean was trying to break the stalemate by getting Fontaine to commit an army. On the other corner of the board, Natlan, Snezhnaya, and Fontaine had some token battles, but the first two were otherwise beginning to encroach upon the rest of the board.

The diplomatic plays ended and the orders were submitted. Again, you dutifully relayed the orders and played them out.

The minute you finished shuffling the pieces around with your divine powers, comments between the players started flying.

“Jean,” Alhaitham looked at her pieces, speaking quite openly, “I find your stance towards Yelan quite curious. I thought you said it was in your best interest that we build our forces against Ningguang.”

Jean cleared her throat. “A strong accusation, considering you rebuffed that plan of mine. You said she was working with Guji Yae, but now that it’s clear that the latter is trying to steal a foothold beneath our noses, we agreed–”

“Excuse you?” Yae cut in, “I offered quite amicable terms to you, as many eavesdroppers can attest. If you’re looking for a scapegoat, might I suggest the person who has been playing you both?” She glared at Yelan.

“Your age must be blinding you, Guji.” Yelan steepled her fingers. “Your intentions are clear, but there are far worse dangers on this board–”

Ningguang interrupted her. “Worse than you violating our agreement to keep Huaguang clear? You should know better than to violate trust.”

“Yes, even worse than you saying you were willing to strike into Wolvendom on false pretenses.” Yelan turned to the two players on her right. “Our two dear players of Natlan and Snezhnaya are being quite quiet and chummy with each other.”

“Now, now,” Diluc said, “just because we’re not engaging in the madness of the eastern side of the board is no reason to throw accusations.”

“We would like to assure you,” Ayaka added, “that you all have plenty enough on your plates. Is it quite wise to send accusations so blindly?”

“I’m not sending empty accusations,” Yelan said, her voice sharpening, “I’m saying you two clearly have an alliance and are planning to sweep the board. We need to band together to–”

“Certainly not! See, we’re struggling over these border regions- quite difficult to be allied while you’re fighting each other.”

Ningguang interrupted, talking to Yelan. “I think it’s clever how you deflected criticism over your double-dealing with Alhaitham and Jean.”

“And I think it’s beginner-level squabbling,” Alhaitham said, “trying to deflect attention like that. Did you promise Windrise to Guji Yae for her help?” He looked over at Yae. “Sorry to say, I don’t think Ningguang is a sharing type. Might I suggest–”

“Really, Alhaitham?” Yae smiled at him. “Letting a little early-game betrayal get to you? I’d suggest not letting those crumbling alliances hurt your poor feelings too much. Might I suggest growing yourself some thicker skin?”

Jean stood up. “And might I suggest that you stop provoking everyone around you! You promised that you would help me past Dragonspine, yet now you’re playing nice with Ningguang!”

“Not to mention,” Alhaitham added, “that you made a similar offer to me, then started attacking me out of the blue. Watch, you’re going to start probing the Guili Plains soon enough, aren’t you? No one on the eastern coast can trust an Inazuma player.”

Yae laughed. “Oh, but do tell me how that front between you and Ningguang is going. Oh, that’s right, your little gambit south of the Chasm hasn’t exactly played out in your favor, has it? And you, Jean, darling, just stay in your corner of the board over there and let the more important nations play things out, yes?”

“ Enough , Yae.” Ningguang sent her a glare. “Unless you have mastered the art of silent communication, it seems like you too lack strong alliances.”

“And you’re facing two fronts of conflict. If I don’t sweep in to secure those precious supply centers, you three will just keep swapping them back and forth to no end. Someone has to come out ahead in all this and it might as well be me.” She smiled as she looked in your direction. “I can already taste my victory and the sweetness of your lips.”

“Okay,” you cut in, “that’s enough time for the diplomatic phase. It’s time to write and submit orders.” You sat back in your chair. A productive diplomatic phase, all things considered! When an accusation or an agreement are just as important as moving a piece on the board, flying accusations are to be expected. Few can resist the allure of collecting all one’s allies to wipe an opponent from the board.

The turn passed mostly uneventfully. Skirmishes occurred, armies were forced back, territory changed hands. In the next diplomatic phase, though, there was a notable shift in tone between the characters. The players engaged more steadily with their allies; instead of a complex dance to test the waters, the lines were drawn on the battlefields- on the map and in their minds.

In the orders of that turn were the expected exchanges of Snezhnaya and Natlan, a concession of land from Mondstadt to Fontaine. But there was a further surprise- one of Alhaitham’s armies had been brought to Inazuma by Ningguang’s ships and captured a supply center on Watatsumi Island. When you read the orders aloud, it raised eyebrows from the other players on the board except one.

Yae Miko did not wear her usual smile the rest of that turn. When the players broke to discuss their next moves, she made a surprising choice of who to pull aside to deal with- Jean. They spoke in harsh, hushed voices. Deals were presented then discarded in short order until Yae said something that gave Jean pause.

You were intrigued and there were few in the audience, players included, that missed your interest. All eyes rested on those two players as they returned to the table and submitted their orders. You could feel things grow more tense as you read out the players’ orders one by one, until you read one of Ningguang’s fateful orders.

“Fleet in Central Line of Storms convoys Mingyun Village to Narukami Island.”

It only took a quick glance at the source province to confirm that the army counter was carved from aquamarine and belonged to Jean, not from Ningguang’s cor lapis. The room’s attention slowly turned to Yae and Jean.

Jean finished her drink and set her cup down, avoiding looking right at Yae. She spoke quietly. “I was offered quite amicable terms.”

The audience murmured and chuckled at her response, many likely having their own comebacks against the kitsune, but the rest of the orders were delivered to near apathy from the audience. Once a major betrayal began, there are few who could resist the allure of watching a player’s territory be devoured by their neighbors and erstwhile allies.

The last of Inazuma’s supply centers fell a turn later and with that, Yae Miko had lost.

As the turn ended, Keqing stepped forward and called for the game to pause- while things had just begun to turn interesting, they were out of time for the morning session. Lunch was ready to be served and few wanted to be kept waiting; besides, while many had come here to see the region’s finals of the Creator’s game, many more had come to vie for your attention.

The Yuheng took your arm after you rose and led you forward, the players following right behind, and the audience slowly following afterwards. Only Yae Miko remained sitting at the table, turning one of the amethyst counters in her hand.

Chapter Text