Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Two kids play a card game on Sumeru City’s central plaza. One of them is dealt a terrible hand, while the other kid has all the cards for a swift win.

As anyone could predict, the game is a massacre. Round after round, the unlucky kid grows sad and bitter. He sees his opponents fully healthy cards, and knows that defeat is close. So while the other is looking away, the unlucky boy slips an extra card in his hand.

It could have been his chance to change the tides! But he was caught, so it became reason for a fight.

The loser cowers as the lucky boy extends a hand. Through half closed eyes he spies not the blow he expected, but an offer of peace.

The unlucky player hesitates, but shakes the other boy’s hand.

They leave the table smiling, asking each others names and planning their next game.

From afar, an eccentric stranger watches. He tips his hat over his face as the children run by. How foolish, he thinks, to extend a hand to an enemy so throughly defeated. How shameful to take that pitiful offer.

What he fails to see is what the kids understood all along. How lovely it is to make a friend out of an enemy. To have a helping hand extended to you, and to take it.

——

The dendro archon looks like just another kid, softly swaying in her dendro swing. Kids keep asking if she wants to play with them, just for their alarmed parents to awkwardly take them away.

It was the opening day of the gardens of Sumeru. A place that was once exclusive to the sages, is now filled with the laugher of children. Nahida watches them run on their precious flower with a smile.

Paimon is taking her after lunch nap close-by. Snoring happily, and loudly.

It’s the perfect time to talk about Nahida’s decoration hobby and Aether’s new found love for card games. Light topics, that don’t nag at Aether’s brain at night before he goes to sleep.

“So… how’s Scaramouche doing?” Aether asks, shifting anxiously in his seat.

It’s only been a few days since Scaramouche got his memories back. Nahida seems to trust him wholeheartedly, but Aether…  His stomach rolls with the thought of having an ex-harbinger loose in Sumeru.

“He is still healing from… well, everything.” Nahida smiles. "He’s doing fine, all things considered. He's been going by Wanderer these days.”

“Wanderer? That’s an… hm… interesting name.” Aether says.

Nahida laughs at his awkwardness.

“We've been trying to think of a new one.” She says. “He’s taken up a habit of exploring the surrounding of the city, it’s a good way to test his new vision.”

Aether raises his eyebrows.

“Exploring… alone?” He turns towards the archon, concern hardening his face. “Don't you think that he might…?”

“He is not a prisoner, he’s free to come and go as he pleases.” She turns her chin up, proudly.

Aether looks away.

Of course she wouldn’t want to hold someone against their will at the Sanctuary of Surasthana of all places, not after it was her prison for so long.

But still, the thought of Scara- Wanderer roaming unsupervised…

His brain conjures the image of the Balladeer looming over him at the delusion factory. The Shouki no Kami dealing blow after blow at the two of them just weeks ago…

Nahida doesn’t remember any of that, but he does, and so does Scaramouche. Maybe he should be a prisoner.

Nahida looks at him and chuckles.

“I’m sorry, but the look on your face.” She puts a hand over her mouth. “It's like I just told you I set a Spinocrocodile free at the square.”

Aether hesitates, measuring his words. To him, that sounds like a precise comparison for the Ballader. Even if he now claims to want to do better.

Aether leans forward, measuring his words.

“How can you truly trust him? After everything he’s done…”

Nahida looks down at her dangling feet, humming pensively.

“Hmm, I guess it’s easier for me, because I see myself in him, in a way.” She says calmly, like a simple fact of life. “Being created for a specific purpose and not being able to fulfill it is a painful thing.”

She shoots him a shy smile.

“Just because someone’s had a rough start at life, doesn’t mean they can go around hurting people.” Aether clears his throat. That was harsher than intended.

“No, it doesn’t.” Nahida agrees. ”But just because someone has made terrible choices, doesn’t mean they can’t try to make better ones in the future.”

Looks like to the god of wisdom, forgiveness comes easily. The Akademiya and the new god who tried to steal her place received nothing but adjustments and understanding.

Aether wonders if he’d be able to do the same in her place. Probably not.

“Try to see this from his perspective. He sees himself as a tool, a sharp blade to be molded and wielded.” She says. "We made him dull, and for better or worse, he might never return to what he once was. We have the duty to give him the opportunity to heal and turn into something better, or how are we better than the people that hurt him before? How are we better than the Doctor?”

“And if he decides to become the fatui’s blade again?” Aether tries. “Or do other atrocities?”

“Then that’s his decision to make, and our mission to stop him. But I truly believe that he wants to leave his past behind, and make amends for his mistakes.” She adds. “I can’t ask him more than that.”

Aether looks down, shaking his head. His thoughts on the subject are irrelevant, Nahida has it handled.

“You truly are an amazing archon, Nahida. Your people are in good hands.” He says.

The archon’s eyes light up with a smile. She is not an insecure child-god anymore, that’s the dendro archon, at last.

“Thank you, Aether.” She looks back at the garden, where a bird bathes at a fountain. “I am happy you see it that way. I was afraid your past with the Balladeer would cloud your vision, you constantly remind me of how exceptional you are.”

Aether scratches the back of his head.

“You’re giving me too much credit.” He let’s out a chuckle. “You'd have to be really dumb to question the judgment of the god of wisdom.”

Nahida shoots him a strange look, considering something.

“What?” Aether asks.

“So you agree, you think that he deserves a chance at redemption?”

Aether tilts his head up to look at the sky. The passing clouds, softly blown by the wind. Constantly changing, always moving forward.

“I guess there’s no point in holding him against his past anymore.” He concedes. “But I don’t think I can trust him like you.”

Nahida nods and gets down from the swing. She steps in front of him, lightly floating so they’re on the same level.

“Aether, would you be willing to do me a favor?” She asks solemnly.

“As the first sage of Buer, how could I say no.” Aether says, half joking.

“Even so, please say no if you don’t want to do it.” Nahida’s expression is serious. “I wasn’t going to ask you but…”

Nahida hesitates. Aether’s accepted all sorts of commissions and helped all kinds of people. He can’t imagine what would make her so unsure to ask.

“In seven days, I will have to leave Sumeru. Temporarily.” She considers the next words carefully. "Being an archon comes with certain... duties that must be fulfilled. I've postponed it for long enough. This is all I can tell you about it, I am sorry.”

“Ok…?”

“My… commitment. It should only last a couple of weeks. I’ve been considering this for a long time… I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the Wanderer alone for that period. Loneliness can be a dangerous thing when you’re in pain. I said that he’s no longer a threat, but I believe he might still be a threat to himself.”

“Oh.” Aether finally sees where this was going. “So you want me to… babysit him?”

Nahida chuckles.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Looking back at this moment, Aether would blame his next words on his good mood. It was a beautiful day, his belly was full of tasty food and his mind could only muster up good memories with friends.

In these types of moods, everything looks possible, all plans look like a good idea. Even when they’re really, really not.

“Hmm, ok. Yeah, sure!”

Chapter Text

Nahida gives them a tour of the Sanctuary of Surasthana the day before her departure.

Paimon is ecstatic by the prospect of free food and a roof over their heads, comfy beds… If she has any complaints about the next weeks, those things are enough to eclipse them.

The place is huge, and mostly empty. The tall ceilings and the overwhelming silence make it feel cold and ethereal. Aether can glimpse the city from the windows, but the small houses feel distant. Perhaps on purpose, the Sanctuary feels like a world apart.

But Aether notices the soft touch of the Dendro archon all over the place: a soft rug, a warm lamp, a colorful painting. Many attempts at turning what was once a cage into a proper home.

The most notable change is turning the central space, where Nahida was imprisoned for centuries, into a sort of living room. Three soft couches, a rug and a table, impossibly small under the cold hard tiles of the ceiling.

All along the way she tells them tidbits about the house and her protégée. It sounds like Nahida has been making many changes in the short time that she’s been truly free, good things, for her and for her people.

Aether understands why she wants to share it, he just wishes she would choose someone who had not tried to kill them.

Paimon and Nahida chatter away, while Aether walks behind them. Despite the light mood, he catches his hand resting on his sword. Like walking around a house when you know there’s a snake on the loose.

It’s not that he regrets agreeing to help. Ok, maybe a little bit. He repeats to himself that this is about helping Nahida. He can endure two weeks of unpleasantries for her.

And besides, if the Wanderer decides to try something while the dendro archon is away, it’s best to have someone like him around. But who knows, maybe the god of wisdom had really managed to turn the Balladeer into a tolerable person.

They only find Scara- Wanderer at the end of the tour. He's quietly reading at Nahida’s personal library. The room is huge, as all the others. Stacked floor to ceiling with pristine white shelves, hundreds or maybe thousand of books covering them.

By the door they can only see the back of his head. The Wanderer is sat with his back to the door, hunched over a book. Aether notices absently that he looks small without his hat.

“Who was it?” The Wanderer asks nonchalantly.

“Aether and Paimon, they’re here to see the house before I leave tomorrow, like I told you.“ Nahida says.

“Hi!” Paimon waves her hand and Aether squints at her. How much of Paimon’s excitement to be here come from the fact that she didn’t remember the Balladeer?

The Wanderer tenses up at the sound. A part of Aether finds pleasure in that reaction, he tries not to feed it.

“So…”  He turns his chair to look at them. “You agreed to be my jail keepers- sorry Nahida- to keep me company after all? I knew you would not miss this opportunity to humiliate me.”

He hasn’t changed at all then. Aether thinks to himself. It's going to be a long couple of weeks…

The Wanderer looks like pure shit. Sickly, but strangely not in a human way. His hair is messy and his movements are slow, but there are no bags under his eyes or apparent injuries. Aether wonders how lifelike Ei’s puppet really is. If he cut him with his sword, what color would his blood be?

He catches Aether’s look and quickly turns back to his book. That’s unusual, the Traveler fully expected to be antagonized for staring.

“You promised me you’d try to be nice.” Nahida’s tone is not unlike that of a mother reprimanding a child. “This is not punishment, and I will be back.” She adds more softly.

“You're not gone yet, so I can say whatever I want.” The Wanderer mumbles to his book, almost as if hoping Aether wouldn’t hear it.

Nahida extends an arm, inviting them into the room.

“I just need to show you something, it’s going to be quick.” She takes a small box from her pocket.

The Wanderer seems to recognize it immediately. He runs a hand over his face.

“Oh, this is great…” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Nahida ignores him. She opens the box and shows Aether the contents. Several small vials filled with purple liquid and a rather big needle.

"This is an antidote to the paralysing liquid in the god-machine. If he stops taking it too soon, he might go back into a coma.” Nahida explains.

Aether remembers the Shouki no Kami looming over him, with The Balladeer on the cockpit, tubes coming out of his back. Nahida told them he couldn’t move inside that thing, but it hadn’t occurred to him that the effects would be so long-lasting.

“He needs to take this everyday, right here.” She places a finger on the back of his neck. The touch is so natural, Aether is surprised it is even allowed. "He can’t apply it on himself, so you’ll need to help."

“It is essential that it is applied at the same time everyday, even half an hour of delay could bring side-effects.” Nahida stresses.

“Don't give him any ideas.” The Wanderer says, turning his back to them to let Nahida apply the injection.

Aether feels like he should say something in his own defense, but Nahida beats him to it.

“The Traveler means you no harm, and you know that. I trust that you’ll remind him of your daily dosage.” She puts the needle in place. “Ready?"

He nods.

“Look closely Aether, you just need to press this and…” Nahida presses the button and Wanderer flinches slightly. The Traveler watches as the liquid slowly disappears into his skin. “Done!"

The archon brings them to the other side of the room to show them how to change the needle, while Paimon asks several questions. The Wanderer is uncharacteristically quiet, reading his book with a hand pressed behind his neck and anxiously tapping one foot.

He glances up and catches Aether staring. The Wanderer stills himself and raises an eyebrow as if asking “What?”.

The Traveler can’t help but send a sympathetic look. Maybe he’s just trying to talk himself into not dreading the next couple of weeks, but for a second, he can imagine himself giving that person a second chance.

“Are you done?” The Wanderer says, interrupting the conversation. "I would like to return to my book.”

—-

All things considered, the Wanderer thinks that he is taking his captivity rather gracefully.

Nahida insists that he’s not a prisoner, and that he only has to stay in the Sanctuary until his body recovers. But she’s full of shit. No one would let an asset like him just walk away. Even in his weakened state, he still has value as a pawn.

That’s why he asked her if he could spend the afternoon exploring the surroundings of the city, because she would have to tell him no and finally be forced to say the truth of the situation. But instead, she offered to make it a weekly thing. Who in their right mind would let a prisoner wander free?

The god of wisdom has no interest in gaining his fear, she seems more interested in obtaining his trust. And despite himself, he gives it to her. To a degree. After everything- He couldn’t lie to himself. Her kind words are like water in the desert. Even if she has second intentions, he indulges in it like land on the cusp of desiccation.

Although he undoubtedly benefits from her mercy, he knows it to be only a matter of time until it runs out. So she envisioned herself as a savior instead of a jailkeeper. How prepotent. At the end of the day, it’s all the same. The minute he walks out of line, or loses his utility, she’ll discard him.

Maybe not death, maybe not by her own hands. The young god is innocent enough to believe that enemies can be spared and forgiven. But he is always acutely aware that the archon’s attack dog is still in town.

He just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

He tries to focus on the book in front of him. It’s about… He can’t even remember anymore. The words dance and blur in front of his eyes, and his mind flies away again.

It’s been hours since the Traveler left. He grimaces at the thought of Aether coming back tomorrow. He wishes he could pinpoint the moment when Nahida lost interest in him, and decided to hand him to the Traveler. There’s no other reason why she would make up that pitiful excuse to leave.

What does revenge look like for the Traveler, he wonders. Will he resort to violence right away, or will he slowly give in to his anger? Did he and Nahida already plan on having him executed, or would it be simply a result of their tempers clashing?

To think that he didn’t even hear the Traveler entering the room.

He taps a hand to his left ear, and deflates at the complete silence. He thought his hearing would be back by now, it’s been weeks since the fall from the Shouki no Kami. At least his hearing.

But who is he kidding, if the Traveler attacks, he’ll have no way to defend himself. He has no power left in him, only a broken body and a vision he can't use. When the Traveler strikes it’s not going to be a fight, it will be an execution.

The Wanderer sighs and reclines back on his chair. He stares at the night sky through the stained-glass tiles on the ceiling.

What’s so good about life anyway? If he dies, it won’t be a great loss for anyone. Even his so-called revenge… Even that is meaningless. Dottore won’t even know him. He won’t even know what crimes he will be paying for.

He reaches a hand to the vision resting on his chest. It glows in the dim library, pulsing like a beating heart. Unashamedly alive. Almost like it’s chanting. Live, live, live…

—-

Aether and Paimon arrive at the Palace just in time to see Nahida leave. Through the open doors, the Wanderer is kneeling in front of the dendro archon, her tiny hand cusping his cheek. She’s saying something, but Aether can’t make out the words.

Paimon shoots forward, but Aether signals for her to stop. It feels like intruding into a personal moment.

Before he can look away, the Wanderer catches his gaze and gets up. His movements are slow, eyes fixed on the Traveler. Nahida turns, expression confused until she spots the two of them and opens a soft smile.

“You're just in time! Aether and Paimon, please come in.”

Nahida exchanges a few pleasantries, thanks them again and says her goodbyes.

“Please be kind to each other while I am gone.” She asks, eyes darting between their faces. Aether does his best to smile. It’s not very convincing. “See you guys in two weeks!”

Just like that, the doors close and it’s just them and the Wanderer. The walls of the Sanctuary seal away the sounds of birds and the chatter of the city bellow. The silence is deafening.

Aether opens his mouth to say something, but is promptly interrupted.

“Here, she left you a letter.“ The Wanderer presses a piece of paper to Aether’s chest and walks away as it slides to the ground.

Paimon picks it up just as the door to the library closes with a bang. Aether flinches. This is going great already. He thinks to himself.

He should go after him, he knows that. But he just stares at the closed door.

Go after him and say what? Aether wants to tell him that they can put their past differences behind and look at the future. But he’s no Nahida, and the words won’t come out of his mouth. He’s not even sure if he believes those things himself.

Besides, the Wanderer almost seems… shy? No, that’s not it. More like skittish. Maybe he needs space more than empty words.

So Aether and Paimon turn around and go unpack. As Aether takes clothes out of his bag, Aether reads Nahida’s letter out loud.

It’s short and sweet. She asks them to take this time as a gift, a vacation of sorts, and lists several activities they can try. Some of them include the Wanderer, but most are just things like “checking this natural spring” or “trying this restaurant”.

“Have we just been tricked into taking a summer vacation?” Paimon hugs the letter like an old friend that promised her food. “Hey, we should go to town and see some of these places! Do you think the Wanderer would like to come?”

—-

“I don’t want to go.” He says, without looking up from his book. The Wanderer doesn’t move, but his knuckles are white from holding the book so tight.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” Paimon sounds genuinely offended, her grating voice getting even higher. “Are you just going to spend the whole time stuck inside this library?”

“If it means I can avoid the two of you, then yes.” The Wanderer says bluntly. “Will you grant me that wish? Or will you force me to come with?”

A heavy silence falls on the room.

“Of course we’re not-“ Aether trails off. He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Why do you have to make things so hard?”

Impulsively, the Wanderer turns to face the intruders.

“Why do you have to pretend that things are so easy? If taking me to the city is so important, you’ll have to cuff me and drag me out of here.”

Aether's face is contorted in a grimace, mouth tense like he wants to say something, but won’t. Good. The quicker he let’s his anger out, the sooner this will end.

Aether rests his hand on the hilt of his sword and the Wanderer holds his breath.

“Look, if you want to stay, then stay. Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “We’ll be back soon. Do you want anything to eat?”

The Wanderer turns his back to them.

“I don’t need to eat, idiot.”

He braces himself for a hit, but it never comes. Instead, the Traveler walks away, with that insufferable pixie yapping something about an ugly nickname.

And just like that, they’re gone. The Wanderer puts the book down, letting out a breath of relief. He listens for a minute more, until the front door closes behind them.

The Sanctuary is blissfully quiet.

No way it's this easy.

The Wanderer stays put, pretending to read. He’s not sure what to expect, but surely something is coming. Someone is watching from a secluded corner, waiting for him to make a mistake. He won’t give them the pleasure.

He waits and waits and waits… And nothing happens.

The Wanderer gets up carefully. He’s well aware that his hearing can’t be trusted. It could still be a trick, although he can’t figure out their ploy.

He checks every room, all doors are open or unlocked. The windows are open, letting in the hot and humid breeze.

They took the guest rooms close to his own, which would bother him if he used the room at all. He doesn’t have any belongings, and hasn’t slept in days. The room has no trace of him.

Their rooms on the other hand, they simply scream their names. Their things are just… There. In drawers and wardrobes, unattended. Clothes and artifacts and… a tea pot? He looks through their things, looking for… Something. Anything to hate them more. But everything is painfully mundane.

How disappointing.

He walks up and down stairs, in and out of rooms, expecting to find a trap or a spy at every turn. But there’s no sign of anyone.

The Wanderer chuckles to himself in disbelief. They actually left the prisoner alone on day one. I’ve been defeated by fools.

The quiet house opens a world of possibilities. He can do anything he wants! He stands by the kitchen windows, frozen, for longer than he would like to admit.

The broken vision on his chest shines faintly, as if asking for his attention.

“Have you tried it?” Nahida asked, eyes shining with barely contained excitement. “The vision, I mean.”

The puppet looked away.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her then, how the vision made his artificial veins burn. How he was too broken to yield it. He simply pretended not to hear the question.

Free from prying eyes, the Wanderer sits on the grass and closes his eyes. He tells himself it’s to help him focus, but the dull ache in his newly mended artificial limbs tell a different story.

He wonders if the Traveler also aches from that fight.

He shakes his head. Focus.

The vision feels like a foreign part of himself, an extra limb that he doesn’t know how to use. He tries to draw power from it, but there’s only a painful tug at his chest. Not enough energy.

It’s a familiar feeling, it doesn’t faze him. He tries harder, digging at the last drops of his elemental reserves. At his core, the power of electro that was once plentiful, now pulses dimly.

It would replenish with time, unless the Traveler decides to detach his head from his body before that. He tugs hard, and something snaps.

He grunts and opens his eyes, gripping at his chest. It burns, empty. The vision rests there, glowing softly. Useless.

How pathetic. Even human children could wield the power of a vision, and yet… Focus.

He sighs and closes his eyes again. Maybe if he focuses on something else… He thinks about the vision, how he felt when he first got it. He hadn’t felt hope, no… Euphoria like that in centuries. In the despair of having the Shouki no Kami charging shots at him, the wind molded itself at his will. Effortless like breathing.

But that was just a dream. In real life, he was simply too weak.

Rage fills him. He tugs again, and doesn’t let go. The burning spreads, urging him to stop. A survival mechanism to avoid completely depleting his energy. He ignores it. His breath picks up, chest heaving in reaction to the pain. He ignores it too.

In his mind’s eye he can see the vision lighting up. The wind howls around him and he is enveloped by wind and painful fire. It burns from the inside out. He ignores ignores ignores ignores.

The wind propels him upward, blows hitting his skin like punches. He let’s out a strangled laugh, or a cry. He can’t sustain this for much longer.

He opens his eyes, vision clouded by tears. The ground seems impossibly far away. Finally.

Letting go of the vision feels like drowning. When the body has had enough and takes control, foolish instincts taking a fatal breath of water into desperate lungs.

His eyes roll back into his skull and everything goes dark.

Chapter Text

The sun is high in the sky, the hot and humid air of Sumeru make Aether’s clothes stick to his body uncomfortably.

“Paimon, we don’t need more food.” Aether laughs tiredly, lifting both arms to show all the bags.

A strong wind blows over them, announcing that there’s a storm coming. It’s way past time they go back to the Sanctuary.

“Well, maybe you don’t-“ Paimon gasps, eyes darting towards the crowd. “Hey, is that…?”

“Aether, Paimon!” A familiar voice calls.

It’s a busy day for Sumeru City’s food merchants. Tourists and the people of Sumeru fill the streets to the brim, looking for a deal or a place to have lunch.

A pair of pointy ears stands above the crowd, accompanied by a waving hand.

Aether almost misses Cyno, who’s squishing himself in the sea of people to follow his friend closely. Tighnari points to a less crowded corner and they meet there.

Tighnari is all smiles, a stark contrast to Cyno’s frown.

“What are you two still doing here? I assumed you’d be headed to Fontaine by now.” The general crosses his arms and lowers his voice. “Is there any trouble?”

Aether opens and closes his mouth. Is there any trouble?

Paimon sends him an unsure look.

“Well-“ She starts. And Aether stops that train before it goes off the rails.

In Nahida’s letter, she said that they could invite friends to the Sanctuary, and that the Wanderer would benefit from having people around. Aether has no doubt that this is running through Paimon’s mind at the moment.

“Everything is fine, we’re just… Taking care of a few things for Nahida.” Aether says. It’s close enough to the truth, he thinks.

He doesn’t want to lie to them, but the truth is simply way too complicated. "The god of wisdom is out of town, so we’re taking care of a war criminal. You’ve met him but won’t remember it, he erased himself from history." What a talk to have in the middle of a crowded fruit market.

“Yes, we’re staying at the Sanctuary of Surasthana!” Paimon chirps in excitedly, to Aether’s dismay.

Cyno tilts his head.

“The Sanc- The archon’s home? Why-?“ Now he sounds more confused than suspicious.

“Just bureaucracy, you know how it is.” Aether waves the question away. “But what are you two doing here?”

Tighnari and Cyno share a look, but politely allow the conversation to move on.

“Three of us, actually!” Tighnari corrects. “Collei classified for a Genius Invokation TCG competition, we just dropped her off at her first match.”

“That's exciting!” Paimon says, apparently oblivious to the sudden change in subject. “How's she doing?”

“She still needs training, especially on her support cards.” Cyno ponders. "But I see a lot of potential-”

Tighnari laughs.

“I think that’s not what Paimon meant, Cyno.”

They explain that Collei has been experiencing a burst of energy and renewed hope since her Eleazar was cured. And that Tighnari had recently been hit by a random burst of lighting on patrol, so he was taking a few weeks off to recover. Cyno jokes that he's playing babysitter.

Aether forces a laugh. So that’s how they remember that night. He can see the lighting scar peeking from underneath Tighnari’s collar, and he wonders if the true culprit of it would feel any remorse if he saw it.

“Hey, you guys should come by tomorrow!” Paimon says, and Aether braces himself for another eventful day.

——

“You're not mad at me, right?” Paimon asks on the way back, voice sheepish. “I was doing what Nahida said!”

“I know, it’s just…” Aether looks up at the cloudy sky, looking for the right words.

He feels silly, lying to hide the Wanderer like he is some shameful secret. It’s like Paimon and Nahida had moved on and accepted that he was a new person, while Aether stays stuck in the past.

But how could he not thread carefully? As much as he wanted to trust Nahida’s judgment and give the Wanderer a second chance, Tighnari was literally still healing from the blow dealt by the Balladeer. His own face still ached when he talked, from a blow dealt by the Shouki no Kami.

Aether takes a deep breath. Look at the future, not at the past. The Wanderer has given them no reason to distrust him. So far.

“I am not mad at you, I’m sorry if it looked like I was. I will talk to the Wanderer and he’ll decide how he wants to go about this. If he wants to tell them the truth, then that’s what he’ll do.”

“And if he wants to hide in the library?”

“Then I am going to be very relieved.” Aether admits with a tired laugh.

The walk back to the Sanctuary is short, thankfully. Aether drops the bags at the kitchen and heads straight towards the library.

He rehearses a few arguments on the way. It’s time the two of them have a proper conversation, enough of avoiding one another like children.

As much as he likes the idea of not having his friends interact with the Wanderer at all, keeping him hidden will be way too risky. Between Tighnari’s ears and Cyno’s investigative experience, the chances of success are minimal.

Aether stops in front of the closed library doors and nods to himself. This is the right thing to do. He turns the handles… And The Wanderer is not there.

“Paimon, have you seen the Wanderer?“ He shouts, trying to keep the rising panic out of his voice. A feeling creeps up on him: Nahida was wrong, he ran away.

“No, why?” Paimon answers from across the Sanctuary.

“I can’t find him.”

Aether marches towards the Wanderer’s room. A tidy bed, closed windows… Empty. His heart sinks. What if he didn’t run away, what if-?

A loud cackle interrupts his thoughts.

Aether runs, sword in hand. He knows that voice, and it’s coming from outside.

He shoves the door to the gardens open, just for it to get thrown back at his face. There’s a wind storm at the gardens, and at the center of it, The Wanderer.

High up in the air, as if held up by a string attached to his chest. The sound coming out of his mouth is frightening: As much a laugh as a cry.

Before Aether can even react, The Wanderer freezes. There are cracks on his skin, glowing purple from within him. The winds stop all at once, like a switch got turned off. And the string gets cut along with it.

The Wanderer drops out of the sky.

Aether kicks his sword away and runs. He uses anemo to soften the impact as the Wanderer lands in his arms.

He’s out cold, tear tracks covering his face. The purple light is dim, but Aether can still see them through the cracks on his skin.

Aether hears Paimon coming and turns to face her.

“Did you find-?” She stops mid sentence and screams at the sight of the Wanderer’s unconscious form. “What happened??”

“I have no idea.” He says. “Call Nahida.”

Paimon nods and flies back inside.

Aether looks down at the Wanderer. Without thinking, he shakes him.

“Hey, wake up. Are you-“

The Wanderer’s eyes fly open and latch on to Aether’s. They’re wide in terror, then anger. He mumbles something inaudible, hands grabbing at Aether’s top, groggily trying to push him away.

Before Aether can react, there’s a fist flying towards his face. It’s a sloppy punch by someone half unconscious, but it’s enough to stager him. And possibly break his nose.

Aether steps back, trying and failing to regain his balance. They tumble to the ground. Aether falls on his ass, eyes looking for his sword. But he kicked it too far away.

He look at the Wanderer, fallen by his feet. He’s lying on his side, unconscious again.

Aether takes a deep breath and gets on his knees besides the puppet. The purple light pulses faintly, almost like a heartbeat.

Aether takes his wrist, checking for a pulse, but he can’t feel anything. Should there be anything?

He shakes his shoulder. Aether might not know the first thing about puppet first aid, but staying unconscious is always a bad sign. Right?

“Hey, wake up.” Aether repeats. “We're not doing this today buddy, c’mon wake up.”

The purple light pulses weakly once, twice… and then it’s gone.

“No, no, no…”

Aether takes his hands out of the Wanderer’s shoulders, eyes wide.

He remembers the night Signora died, not by his hands, but as a consequence of his actions. The overwhelming feeling of walking down the palace’s stairs hit him once more, making his ears buzz.

For the first time he can look at the person laying on the ground and not see the Balladeer. His mind goes to the Wanderer when they first found him, picking up sunsettias on the outskirts of Sumeru City. The abandoned puppet looking for a heart. The boy that was manipulated and experimented on, and then erased himself from the world.

In that second, he sees what Nahida always saw.

“I’m sorry.” He says through the lump in his throat.

A lighting strike in the distance. Plock, plock, plock. Raindrops fall all around him. The storm is here.

Aether stays there, kneeling on the grass, frozen as the rain washes over them. If he stays in this moment, he doesn’t have to go to the next one. Admitting that he’s now alone in the garden.

The Traveler watches as a fat droplet of water lands in the middle of the Wanderer’s forehead.

Impossibly, as if in a dream, blue eyes softly blink open. The Wanderer turns his face to the side, groaning.

Aether deflates, all the adrenaline from seconds ago leaving his body as he lets out an incredulous laugh.

The Wanderer is frowning at him.

“What's so funny?” He slurs. And Aether has never been so happy to hear that snarky voice in his life.

“You're alive!” He says.

The Wanderer just stares in confusion, eyes slightly unfocused.

“Are you alright, can you sit up?” Aether’s hands hang in the air, waiting to be useful.

The Wanderer brings a hand to his face and rubs his eyes.

“Where did he go?”

“Where did who go? So there was someone here?” Aether straightens up, looking at their surroundings. He sees his sword by the wall.

“Dottore, I punched him in the face just now.”

Aether feels his heart skip a beat. Dottore- And then he’s painfully aware of the throbbing pain in his nose, and the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Oh.” He lets out. So that frightened look wasn’t directed at him.

“Oh what?-" The Wanderer's tone is annoyed. But then he looks at Aether’s bloody nose and widens his eyes.  "Oh. I- I'm sorry.”

The Wanderer looks away. If Aether didn’t know better, he’d say he’s embarrassed.

“Don't worry about it.” Aether says. “What happened? You fell from the sky, and there was this purple light- I thought you died.”

The Wanderer props himself into a sitting position. He looks at Aether, face contorted in a grimace, like he’s considering something.

“I-“

“Nahida won’t answer the call, I think she’s still traveling.” Paimon cries from inside the house. “Please tell me he woke- Ahhhh you’re soaking wet!“

Chapter Text

Aether helps the Wanderer inside and plops him down the living room’s couch.

His dark hair is dripping water and his eyes keep fluttering shut like he’s struggling to stay awake.

Aether realizes that the danger might not be over yet.

“Hey, Wanderer, wake up.” He shakes him by the shoulder. “Is it safe for you to go to sleep now?”

“Yeah, wake up! You might have a conco- a conso-” Paimon tries.

The Wanderer's head is tilted back on the couch, eyes closed. Aether thinks he’s out again, but then he lets out a groan.

“Shut up…” He draws out the words, annoyed. “I don’t have a concussion, I have a depleted battery.”

He weakly pulls his arm away from Aether’s hand. The message is clear: Leave me alone.

Aether takes his hand away. But he can’t leave just yet.

“Ok, I will wake you up in a couple of hours then, will that be enough?” He presses.

The Wanderer nods, without opening his eyes.

Aether steps away, he can work with that.

He turns to Paimon and lowers his voice.

“I will get some towels." He says. "Try calling Nahida again.”

Aether and Paimon nod to each other, but a low voice stops them from walking away.

“No, don’t call Nahida.”

“What do you mean don’t call Nahida? This is a medical emergency, she has to know.” Paimon says.

The Wanderer mumbles something incomprehensible. “Please.” He adds softly.

Aether sighs. He runs a hand over his face, partly to wipe away the water dripping from his hair.

“We won’t call her, go to sleep.” He promises.

——

In the dream, Niwa has his back to him. He’s preparing a meal, something with fish and radishes, and talking about nothing at all.

The Kabukimono knows it to be a dream, but indulges in the fantasy anyway. He stays there, wide eyed, quietly watching his friend as he often did in a distant time.

The fishes float arouns Niwa, and at the touch of his hands, the living animals turn into food. Dozens of different dishes materialize in front of them, things they had tasted together.

“I'm sorry I couldn’t save you.” The Kabukimono says, drunk in the honesty of dreams.

“I wish you wouldn’t blame yourself for what happened.” Niwa says.

The Kabukimono smiles. It’s something the real Niwa would have said, if he was still alive. But he’s dead. The smile turns into a frown and he can feel the atmosphere of the dream changing.

“You saved yourself, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? No more of those pesky fatui clawing at your feet… You bought yourself a second chance, this has nothing to do with me.”

“No, Niwa-“

Niwa turns to him, and there's a gaping hole where his heart should be. The blood drips down his chest like a waterfall.

The Wanderer tries to look away, but a hand holds his head firmly in place.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… Bad puppet.” The Doctor drawls from behind him. He can feel his breath on his ear and it sends a shiver down his spine. “Look at what we’ve done, isn’t it beautiful?”

Scaramouche looks down at his hands. He’s holding Niwa’s heart, and it beats loud in his ears. Thump, thump, thump.

He awakes to his own artificial veins thumping in his ears. But he doesn’t open his eyes, someone is coming.

——

The storm rages on above the Sanctuary, water loudly hitting the glass ceiling and turning the afternoon dark. Thunder and wind cover the sounds of the deep breaths coming from the puppet asleep on the couch.

From the other side of the room, Aether watches as his chest rises and falls. The Wanderer looks so very human, and small, sleeping under Nahida’s earth colored blanket.

The scent of cooked fish fills the once sterile room. And so do Aether’s hands. He holds the box containing the Wanderer’s injection in them. Probably not very hygienic, Aether thought. Could puppets get infections?

He had left the kitchen just now, meaning to wake up the Wanderer as Paimon served the meal.

Instead, Aether sat on the opposite couch. The afternoon’s incident replaying in his mind, as he tries to piece it all together.

Nahida had mentioned something about the Wanderer not having mastered his new vision yet, but that was not what Aether thought she meant.

From what he had been told, using a vision should be as easy as breathing. It was just a matter of finding your own personal style of using the elements. Not quite the same as how he used the elements, but close enough that he thought he understood.

He’d heard about people having a tough time with a new vision, sure. A reluctant wilder, an unexpected element… But not uncontrollably being pushed around in the air and falling from exhaustion. Never like that.

There’s an easy conclusion creeping up on him, but he pushes it away. It would be too cruel to be the problem. Could the vision be rejecting him? Did Nahida know?

Aether sighs. They hadn’t tried to reach out to Nahida again, at least not until the Wanderer woke up and explained the situation. It felt wrong to keep her in the dark, but Aether has a feeling she would have given the Wanderer the choice if she was in his place.

Besides, he isn't excited to tell her that they let the Wanderer get seriously injured in the first 24h under their watch. Not after he erased himself from the Irminsul under their watch too. He grimaces at the thought.

Enough stalling, time to wake him up. Aether thinks to himself.

He sighs and gets up. To his surprise, the Wanderer flinches ever so slightly.

Aether sits back down, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re awake then, great.” He says. “Are you feeling alright?”

The sounds of raindrops and Paimon moving things in the kitchen fill the air. For a moment, Aether wonders if he imagined the Wanderer’s reaction.

“Why do you care?” His voice is raspy, eyes blinking open slowly. But the sass is all there, Aether can hardly say he’s surprised.

“Because you almost died back there, what the hell happened?” Aether leans forward on his seat.

The Wanderer chuckles humorlessly.

“You think that almost killed me?” He looks at Aether through half-lidded eyes, head propped on the back of couch. “Please. I can survive much worse than that. The fatui loved that, I’m sure you’ll love it too.”

Aether frowns, taken aback.

"We're not like that here.” He says coldly.

"Yeah, sure.” The Wanderer says flippantly. “Answering your question, what happened back there is not going to be a problem again.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Aether retorts. “And what do you mean it’s not going to be a problem anymore-?”

“Can you drop the concerned friend act? It’s exhausting. How about we all admit-”

Aether shakes his head and cuts him off.

"Look, you’re having trouble with your vision, right? I can help you, we can try again together.”

The Wanderer squints at him, expression unreadable.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks.

"Because it’s the right thing to do.” Aether says, without missing a beat. It’s the most truthful answer he can offer at the moment. “You deserve a second chance.”

The Wanderer’s eyes widen, and for a second there’s a hint of something genuine there. Then he smirks maliciously.

"If things had gone differently, if I had won. I'd have killed you on the spot” He deals each word like it’s a blow. It would probably be more menacing, if he didn’t look like he couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

He stares into the Wanderer’s eyes.

"It's a good thing that didn't happen then. Now no one has to die.” Aether says, earnest. “My offer still stands. I might not have a vision, but I can wield anemo. Maybe I can help."

The Wanderer stares in silence, calculating. He looks even worse than before, half awake with wet hair glued to his forehead and sunken eyes. If Aether looks closely, he can still see faint cracks in his skin.

Aether can feel the guilt forming in his chest. Nahida trusted him to keep the Wanderer safe, and he was doing a shit job so far.

"We can start practicing next morning, if you’re ready that is.” Aether says honestly.

“Ha, good to see your savior complex is as strong as ever.” The Wanderer shrugs. “Sure, let’s practice.”

The Wanderer tenses up when Aether mentions the injection. He’s worse at masking his reactions when he’s tired, Aether notices. But he lets him apply it without complaint.

The Traveler stands behind the couch and applies the medicine as fast as he can. It’s strange, to have someone that was once an enemy willingly offer his neck to him. He tries not to linger on the thought.

Afterwards, for reasons Aether doesn’t comprehend, the Wanderer agrees to dine with them. He quietly leans over his serving of radish and fish stew, closed off in his own world as Paimon and Aether make plans for tomorrow.

From the corner of his eye, Aether watches as the Wanderer finishes his plate. The Traveler smiles to himself, looks like his cooking pleased even the most demanding of taste buds.

—-

The Wanderer waits at the garden with his arms crossed. The sun is rising from behind the mountains, but Aether is nowhere to be seen. He taps his feet impatiently on the soggy grass.

The plan is to make this quick, so the Traveler will forget about it and leave him alone.

He just wants to go back inside, somewhere dark and quiet, where he can pathetically go lick his wounds. It's the only thing he’s good at lately anyway.

His empty power reserves claw at his chest like a hunger, clouding his systems and making his head pound. It hasn’t been this bad in weeks, he thinks sourly. And whose fault is that?

He idly wonders if there was something in that awful fish stew the Traveler made. Some poison aimed specifically at him that could be making this worse. It was nothing like Niwa’s cooking. It lacked the delicacy, and it tasted too much like fish.

It was an absurd theory, of course.

As much as he dislikes the Traveler, with his naive beliefs and self-righteous actions, the Wanderer has to admit that if Aether wanted him dead, yesterday was the perfect opportunity. And he didn’t take it.

He cringes thinking about it. How careless, to be so reckless to the point of needing rescue. If Nahida knew what he was up to…

He imagines the disappointment on her face if she had been to one to find him, unconscious on the tall grass. She would have read him like a book. Would he have mistaken her for Dottore too? Perhaps punched her? It doesn’t matter.

At last, the Traveler strolls out the house. He has a smile on his face and zaytun peaches on his hands. He throws one to the Wanderer and he pointedly watches it land by his feet.

“You're late.” The Wanderer scolds.

Aether bites his own zaytun peach, apparently unbothered.

“We hadn’t agreed on a time.” Aether says calmly, walking to him. His hair shines like gold, eyes sparkling with content. His sword is nowhere to be seen.

The Wanderer fixes his posture and tips his hat over his eyes.

The Traveler is a strange creature. He asks if the Wanderer slept well, and offers a hand to help him sit on the grass. When the Wanderer calls him out for acting strangely, he just laughs.

Paimon flies out of the house holding two zaytun peaches, each one almost the size of her tiny head. She smirks and throws one of them at the back of Aether’s head.

“Think fast!” She screams.

The Wanderer flinches as the grating sound makes his head pound. He watches in dismay as Aether shoots it back at her in a swift move.

The little pixie dodges it with a chuckle.

“You're getting rusty!” She teases.

The Wanderer raises an eyebrow as the Traveler reaches for the peach laying by his feet. Golden eyes wink at the puppet's incredulous face, bright like the sun.

He can almost taste what it’s like to be a part of that. He can imagine himself being secretly in cahoots with the Traveler in their silly peach war against Paimon, and he’d smile back and throw a peach.

“Incoming!” Aether announces with his throw.

Just as Paimon flies up holding a dirt smeared peach, Aether’s fruit hits her right in the nose in a splash of juice. He roars with laughter.

Paimon flings her fruit through closed eyes. The Wanderer raises a hand just in time to stop the wayward peach from hitting him in the face.

He holds it in his palm, perhaps for a second too long.

“Are you done?” He asks dryly, for he is a prisoner and any kindness these people show him is merely an accident.

The fruit bounces to the ground, and no one is laughing anymore.

Aether clears his throat as Paimon wipes the juice from off her face.

Paimon goes inside to clean herself. Good, The Wanderer thinks, this will be humiliating enough without an audience.

The Traveler looks at him apologetically, as if just now reminding that this was not in fact a reunion between friends.

“Sorry, yes. Let’s start. Show me what you were doing yesterday, and we’ll work from there.”

“What I was doing yesterday didn’t work, so what’s the point?” He says flatly.

“Do you know why it didn’t work?” Aether asks.

“Obviously not.” He deadpans.

“Then let’s find out!” Aether raises a hand as if to bump the Wanderer’s arm, but stops halfway. “Don't push yourself.”

The Wanderer closes his eyes and visualizes his power reserves, the purple energy that flows within him-

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

“I'm concentrating.” The Wanderer looks up, annoyed.

“You need to concentrate to use the vision?” The Traveler tilts his head. How absurd, to disguise such foul words with an innocent gesture.

The Wanderer huffs a humorless laugh.

“Are you here to belittle me? Is this what this is about?“

“No, I-" Aether stops himself and takes a deep breath. ”What are you concentrating on? The vision itself?“

“I'm obviously concentrating on my inner power reserves, how else would I manipulate the vision’s power?”

Aether looks confused.

“Your inner…?”

“Do I need to remind you that I am not human? I don’t… work like-” The Wanderer shakes his head and prepares to get up. “You know what, this is pointless.”

“No, wait!” The Traveler grabs his wrist.

The Wanderer pointedly frowns at it and Aether takes the hand away as if burned.

"I’m sorry. Please, continue.” The Traveler says. “I won’t interrupt you again. Promise.”

The Wanderer sits back down. He sends the Traveler a glance and then closes his eyes again.

He pictures the force at his core. He coils it like a rope around the vision. Work. He urges it. He thinks about the wind blowing around him, and tries to steer it with his strength.

But the rope is thin, and he can feel it starting to snap as his breath picks up.

“Hey, I said don’t push yourself.” Aether’s voice feels far away.

All he can see is the purple light pulsing along with the drums in his head, and the air around him sparkles with electricity.

“You're doing the glowing thing again.”

The wind picks up and the Wanderer hunches over himself as the hole in his chest gnaws at him. There’s a hand on his shoulder.

"I think it’s time to stop.” Aether sounds concerned. “Wanderer-"

“Shut up.” He mutters. And just like that his focus is gone, and the world is spinning.

The Wanderer retches and his mouth fills with warm liquid. It tastes like metal and makes his vision blur. He looks down at himself, eyes wide as he sees all the purple goo dripping down his chest.

He let's out a deranged laugh.

"What the hell is this?" He coughs, and retches again. Nice progress for the first day of training.

Chapter Text

“Today, I’d like you to meet my friend, the Doctor.” The Jester said boastfully, his hearty voice echoing through the freezing halls of the Snezhnayan palace.

He extended his arms to a blue-haired individual, who wore a funny mask. The puppet thought it was too big an introduction for such a strange and scrawny man. A mortal, no less.

The had met his fair share of strange individuals during his travels. He had no interest in them.

He looked up at the man that brought him there, annoyed.

“You said there would be a banquet.” The puppet said coldly, ignoring the scientist.

The Jester laughed.

“Patience, my friend.” He said. “First, allow the Doctor to help get you settled in. I dare say you two could be great friends.”

The puppet was vexed to be separated from the Jester, but he obliged quietly.

As it turned out, The Doctor was a rather endearing individual, he was nothing like the other humans the puppet had known. He didn’t concern himself with small matters of mundane life, he had his eyes on much bigger things.

He talked about lost civilizations and foreign nations, the truth of this world and the great will of the Tsaritsa. Countless experiments, involving all sorts of lifeforms.

“You'll forgive me for my ramblings. It is the pitfall of scholars, to be so absorbed in our work we forget the world around us.” He said. “I believe I didn’t even catch your name.”

“I am a puppet, I have no name.” He said defiantly.

The red eyes of the Doctor widened, and the puppet braced himself for the disgust and fear that always came with that revelation. Instead, he was met with admiration and delight.

“Oh? How interesting!” He replied. “Please, do tell me more. What a coincidence, artificial lifeforms is a topic of interest of mine.”

Every little fact about the puppet’s body seemed to greatly endear the Doctor. He lifted his sleeve to reveal the joints on his elbows, and the man called it a wonder. A wonder! He said.

The puppet caught himself smiling often around the strange man. No one had ever directed such a sentiment towards him before. Even those that didn’t hate him for being a puppet looked at him strangely. They encouraged him to hide and only saw good in him because of his resemblance to a human.

The Doctor was fascinated by his inhuman nature, and the puppet indulged in the attention. He showed him everything.

“You are the most fascinating being I have ever encountered.” The Doctor said one day. “Would you mind if I were to conduct more… detailed exams? All in the spirit of helping you, of course. Maybe there’s something we could do about this hole in your chest you tell me about.”

———

The Wanderer spits on the grass. The goo stains it purple, then black.

“Go ahead, laugh. I am too weak to wield the vision. Are you happy?” He says. “Is that what you wanted to see?”

The Wanderer blinks, willing the world to stop spinning. The metallic taste in his mouth reminds him of the last time he threw up, hundreds of years ago.

“Is that… blood? Are you bleeding?” Aether is staring at him, wide eyed.

"It’s a metallic compound, infused with elemental energy.” The Doctor had said, mostly to himself. The puppet laid on the table with his chest open, red veins exposed and purple goo running down the side of his face. “Fascinating."

“No, it’s not blood.” He mumbles, as another wave of nausea washes over him.

The first thing he learnt about himself was that he was not like the humans. The second one was that he bled red just like them.

“Lets try again.” The Wanderer closes his eyes, and a hand closes around his arms instantly.

“Absolutely not!” Aether says. "Are you trying to kill yourself?”

The Wanderer pulls away.

“What do you care?” He leans his head closer to the Traveler. He wants him to smell the metal in his breath. He wants to stain the gold with his filth.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Traveler. You can barely hide how much you want me dead. Lets not pretend that I am alive for any reason other than my value as a pawn. I am no use if I don’t recover.”

He closes his eyes again, and feels two hands gently touching his own.

“I have no pawns, and I don’t plan on starting now.” Aether voice is low and calm, like someone talking to a feral animal. “But it doesn’t matter what you think about me. Do you really think Nahida would do the same things Dottore did?”

The Wanderer recoils, opening his eyes. He remembers Nahida’s smile as she said goodbye. Don’t let the past warp your view of the present, you are still among friends. She’d said.

"It doesn’t matter how annoying you are, I will not sit here and let you destroy yourself.” The Traveler continues.

The Wanderer lets out a crackle. That’s what they all say, isn’t it? They extend their hands in kindness, right up until it’s not convenient anymore and showing their teeth is more efficient.

He’s fallen for this trick once, it won’t happen again.

“Oh, that’s big talk coming from the-” He stifles a gag, and then he’s dry retching on the grass. How pathetic.

He can feel the Traveler’s eyes on him. It’s humiliating.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

The Traveler drags him to the kitchen, and makes him sit by the table, as he prepares something by the stove.

Paimon buzzes around them like a noisy bug. The Wanderer prompts his head on his elbows, hands holding his temples as he tries to filter her out before his head explodes.

How presumptuous of them, to demand his trust like that. Accept their self-serving attempts at charity as if he were a stray dog, thankful for every scrap.

They hated to recognize it, but they were all just like Dottore. He too, had extended a helping hand back then, and look where it landed that poor rescued puppet.

The Wanderer grasped at his head as another wave of pain passed over it. His power reserves should have been fuller by now, the headache should be gone. Why was he taking so long to heal?

“Are you alright?” He flinches as the pixie’s voice appears right in front of him.

He looks up at her, bangs partially covering his vision. Her eyes are huge, innocent and concerned.

It fills him with anger.

“No, I’m not alright.” He growls. “I'm a pathetic prisoner, stuck with your annoying voice frying my brain. Maybe if you shut up for just one second, I wouldn’t want to snap your neck so bad. Speak again, and maybe I will give it a try-”

Aether turns to them, drying his hands on a dish cloth. He points at the Wanderer.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Then he looks at his friend and his expression softens. "Paimon-”

Paimon’s eyes are still huge, but now they shine with unshed tears. The Wanderer’s braces himself for a cry that’ll make his other ear stop working.

Instead she quietly flies out of the room, stifling a sob.

The Traveler sighs and walks back to the stove. He puts the dish cloth down maybe more forcefully than necessary.

“Don’t talk to Paimon like that ever again. You can lash out at me how many times you want, but not at her. She’s not earned that.” Aether’s voice is calm, but the Wanderer can hear the threat under his words. “Do you understand?”

“Sure, whatever.” He says, running both hands over his face.

With his eyes closed, he hears the Traveler walk towards him. A small object is placed on the table and slides towards him. The Wanderer imagines a knife, threateningly approaching him.

He opens his eyes. It’s a cup of tea.

“Drink it, it’ll help with the nausea.” Aether says, putting away the dish cloth. His voice is neutral, but his hasty movements betray his badly concealed anger.

The Wanderer takes his elbows out the table and eyes the cup in front of him. His reflection stares back, angry and pathetic.

The Traveler made him tea. He thinks. He made me tea and I made his friend cry.

“Why are you doing this?” The Wanderer asks quietly, eyes fixed on the drink. “If it’s out of a sense of pity then-“

“Nahida is afraid you’re going to hurt yourself, and I guess she’s right. But you knew that, right? That’s why you don’t want me to call her.” His words are fast, like he’d been holding them back.

The Wanderer stares in silence, memories of a night at the docks of Sumeru city flashing through his mind.

“If you stopped trying to antagonize me and Paimon for just one second, you’d see that we're actually trying to help. Do you really think Nahida would ask me to be here for any other reason?”

“I am a prisoner, you’re a guard. Obviously-” The argument sounds weak even to his own ears. Which kind of guard makes his prisoner tea.

The Traveler shakes his head, frowning.

“Believe whatever you want, if you don’t want us around then fine.” Aether says sternly. “You can lock yourself in the library and sulk until Nahida is back. We won’t bother you anymore.”

“Now excuse me.” Aether walks out of the kitchen, presumably  going after Paimon.

The tea is bitter, just as he likes it. And to his surprise, it does help. The warmth soothes his pulsing head, and something about the taste makes the nausea go away. The silence also helps.

By the sink there’s an abandoned teacup, hot steam coming out of it. He imagines a world in which he wasn’t an insufferable brat, and the Traveler hadn’t needed to go after his friend.

He imagines himself sitting across him, and he’d call him Aether and they’d talk over tea. And Paimon wouldn’t be afraid of him, they’d be laughing over who got hit by the most sunsettias.

He cusps the cup in both hands and takes a sip. The bitterness takes him back to reality. Things like that were reserved for mortals and fools. He’d never have that, not after everything he’d done.

———

On the same week he woke from the coma, the puppet tried to escape.

The hole the gnosis left in his chest ached, he craved it like an addict, even if the memory of it was only one of pain.

The escape could barely be called the result of a plan. In his madness, he saw an open window, and jumped.

He stumbled through the streets of Sumeru, delirious. His feverish mind conjured spirits in the shadows cast by the moon, and turned the ringing in his ears into whispers conspiring against him.

With hands clasped on his ears, he got as far as the docks, before hearing a couple of familiar voices.

Two fatui agents, talking by the boats.

“Boss said we can’t leave Sumeru without him.” The woman said. Ivanka, or whatever her name was. Over all the years she worked for him, Scaramouche had never bothered to learn it.

“Since when is he our boss?” The man said. He was the one that broke his leg on a mission. The idiot had to be carried for hours through the thick snow.

The woman laughed.

“How dense are you?” She said.

Their voices reminded him of cold Snezhnaya nights and scheming. Not exactly fond memories, but a way back. Something familiar.

But more importantly, that’s were it was. The gnosis. The child-god said that the fatui had it now. His gnosis. It called to him, with its painful jolts and fiery pain. His gnosis, it was his-

Even his dazed mind saw the danger in it, but it was only a small part, easily dismissed. They were waiting for him to go back!

He was drawn to it like a moth to the light.

The puppet stepped forward.

Are you sure you want to do this? Whispered a voice in his head. He ignored it.

“I'm here.” He mumbled.

The two agents turned to the newcomer, disbelief stamped on their faces.

“Lord Scaramouche-“ The woman gasped.

The puppet, dressed in simple cotton clothes, swayed on his barefoot feet.

She squinted at that miraculous sight, not quite believing her eyes.

“I'm here.” He repeated. “Let's go back.”

A grin spread across her face and she laughed. A full, belly laugh. Her companion stopped trying to sneak his knife out of his pocket to stare at her.

“Just how crazy are you, boy?” Discreetly, she exchanged looks with her partner.

She stepped forward, and the puppet looked up at her, frowning. He was not used to being addressed like that. He didn’t even notice the other agent creeping up behind him.

She pressed a knife to his neck.

“You know very well that the Tsaritsa has no use for losers, not alive that is.” Her smile was acid, and her eyes betrayed how much she had waited for this moment. “Lord Dottore will be very happy to see you again, he’ll reward us handsomely!”

There was no remorse when the man grabbed his former boss's arms and kicked the back of his knees. He did it laughing. The sight of the Balladeer on his knees was not something he expected to see in his lifetime.

“Let go of me!” The puppet frowned, struggling against arms that he had once helped heal.

The man grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.

“We're the ones giving the orders now, you little shit.” The man said in his ear.

“That's enough.” Said a small voice.

The two agents fell to the ground like rag dolls. The puppet flinched back, bluntly falling on his ass as his eyes darted between the two unconscious forms.

“They're just asleep.” The dendro archon said, stepping in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

“They were going to kill me.” The puppet said. His eyes were uncharacteristically expressive, and hazy.

“I think you knew that all along, didn’t you?” The goddess offered.

The puppet looked away.

With a motion of her arm, the archon moved the two unconscious people away and sat besides the puppet. He stared quietly at the calm waters, bitting his lip.

“Are you here to kill me too?” He asked quietly.

“Would you like me to kill you?” She said in return.

The sound of crickets and frogs in the distance filled the air.

“I don’t know.” He answered finally.

“I am here to offer you a deal.” She said. “You can take their boat, and do whatever you want with your life. You can even end it, and I won’t try to stop you. The keys are right here, in her pocket.” The archon gently touched the fatui’s leg with her foot.

The puppet stared at the spot. It would be a peaceful death, alone at sea. It was more than he deserved.

“Or you can come back to the palace with me, and I promise to do everything in my ability to ensure you have a swift recover. I will be by your side for as long as you want. That’s my offer, and I would prefer if you took it. There’s only one condition.”

The puppet grinned to the floor, imagining what terrible deal was about to be laid out. The expression was the mockery of a smile, fully devoid of happiness.

“What do you want in return?”

The archons eyes were kind.

“I want you to give yourself a second chance, too.” She said. “You can’t hurt yourself while you are in my house. But you can grieve your old self, and find meaning for a new life.”

Nahida watched the puppet. He had his eyes fixed on the fatui boat, and a blank expression.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” She extends a hand to him. "Do we have a deal?”

The way back to the palace was quiet. Nahida walked behind the puppet, so she could watch his steps and pretend not to notice the tears streaming down his face.

Chapter Text

Alone in his room, freshly changed into a clean shirt, the Wanderer sits on the bed.

He prods at his power reserves. It’s something he’d be doing frequently. Almost unconsciously, almost hopefully. As if any time now something would shift and it would replenish.

But who was he trying to fool? It’s empty, completely empty. It’s not enough to power a vision. It’s barely enough to power his systems.

There’s something wrong with it.

On some level, he’s known it ever since he woke up from the coma. He wasn’t recovering fast enough, his energy was always out. He tried to ignore it and convince himself it was something else, but it has been weeks.

It’s broken.

Absently, he reaches a hand to his chest, as if to touch the damaged piece.

It’s not like he can do anything with that information anyway. Nahida did the best that she could, but bandaging a broken arm was not the same as performing heart surgery.

There’s only two people on Teyvat that could fix a damaged power core. And he would rather die than have any of them prodding inside of him.

The vision sits besides him on the bed, glowing softly. What a joke. A gift from Celestia, that he would never be able to use. In a way, it was a relief. He didn’t have to worry about not deserving it now.

The Wanderer leaves it there, like a pathetic child throwing a tantrum. As he closes the bedroom door behind him, he can feel its weight materializing in his pocket.

“-more than I could ask from you. Thank you, to both of you.”

The Wanderer’s head snaps up. Nahida’s voice, coming from the kitchen.

He feels like throwing up again. So much for trying to gain his trust then. They called her. They were going to tell her about what happened, and Nahida would know right away that he broke the deal.

He circles the hall on the tips of his toes, as fast as he can.

Through the open door, he can spy the back of the Traveler and Paimon’s heads. In front of them, a hologram of Nahida.

“Are you sure that nothing happened?” She has a confused smile on her face. “There were 23 missed calls, I thought-”

The Wanderer catches himself smiling back, and turns the expression back into a frown. He braces himself for the disappointment in her face.

“Paimon is always dialing numbers on accident, hehe…” The pixie says. “Butt-dialing, you know how it is…”

“Yeah, everything is fine around here. As I said, he hasn’t really left the library much.” The Traveler pitches in.

Oh.

“Sorry for worrying you!” Paimon says, hands clasped behind her back.

“No need to apologize, I am actually relieved!” The archon says. “Have fun with your friends tonight, I think it’s a great idea. Who knows, the Wanderer just might leave the library if there’s more people there.”

The Traveler scratches the back of his head.

“Yeah… Lets see.”

They say their goodbyes and the Wanderer zones out, head filling with static. They lied for him, to a god. To their friend. Why? They couldn’t possibly know he would be there. Right? Then why…?

Before they notice he’s there, he turns around and quietly hides himself in the library.

———

Aether and Paimon spend the afternoon cooking. It is an absurd amount of food, but it’s what Paimon likes to do when she’s upset, so Aether doesn’t object.

Between the Wanderer’s mean words and lying to Nahida, she’s had a rough day.

So they prepare snacks and deserts together, for game night. By the time the Padisarah Pudding is solid, she’s all smiles again.

It’s enough pudding to host game night with the entire neighborhood. Hopefully everyone likes pudding. And Samosa. And Ajilenakh Cake. And Panipuri.

Aether almost lets himself forget about their disastrous morning too. But not quite.

The Wanderer stays out of sight all day. Every now and then Aether shoots a look at the library door, it stays firmly shut.

He doesn’t pretend to understand the Wanderer. He knows that he has been through a lot, these past few weeks could not have been easy. But how could someone be so stubborn?

Aether sighs into the fresh dough. He isn’t proud of his words earlier either. He was supposed to be the level-headed one in this situation, and he failed miserably.

Surprisingly, lying to the god of knowledge was the only thing that felt right that day. The Wanderer’s struggles were not his to share, he could tell everything to Nahida on his own time.

He watches as Paimon carefully slices Ajilenakh Nuts. Behind her, the kitchen windows show the sun setting through the garden trees.

“I am going to check up on the Wanderer.” He says. “Is it still ok if I invite him to hang out with us later?”

“Yes, Paimon is not mad anymore.” She says, without looking up from the nuts.

Cooking is the only time Paimon can achieve true focus, he’s surprised she even answered.

“It will be the perfect opportunity to give him an ugly nickname.” She adds under her breath.

Aether chuckles, shaking his head.

“Don't you dare go easy on him.” He says, cleaning his hands on his apron.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect the Wanderer to accept the invitation at all.

Aether opens the library doors, half expecting the room to be empty. To his surprise, the Wanderer is there, sprawled over a book, sound asleep.

It has to be the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever, sitting on one of those hard wooden chairs, contorted to rest his head over an arm.

For an immortal being that claims not to need rest, he sure sleeps a lot. Aether thinks to himself.

If it wasn’t time for the injection, he would have just walked away. But Nahida was very adamant that it should be given on time, so he doesn’t really have a choice.

He walks into the room loudly. Better to have the Wanderer wake up by himself than to have Aether shake him awake.

The Traveler had noticed how he hates being touched, he can only imagine how moody he’d be after being touched while asleep.

The needle’s drawer creaks obnoxiously loud as it is opened. Aether almost smiles. He turns to look at the Wanderer… And he hasn’t moved an inch.

Aether sighs, loudly.

He shakes the box like a tambourine as he walks to the slumbed form. Then he stops, that was probably a bad idea. He opens it, and thankfully nothing is broken.

He looks down at the Wanderer’s relaxed face, and the way his chest goes up and down with deep breaths. It feels wrong to see him so vulnerable, like he is invading something. Aether taps the box and turns around, maybe he should just go…

He sighs and turns back to the Wanderer. This is silly. And the injection can’t be late.

Aether clears his throat, loudly.

“Hey, Wanderer?” He tries.

It’s like talking to a wall.

He puts the box on top of table. No other way, he’s going to have to shake him awake.

A loud chime rings through the walls, startling Aether. The doorbell.

“I'm coming!” Paimon yells from the kitchen.

Aether turns to the Wanderer. Nope, still asleep. He frowns, suddenly concerned. That can’t be normal.

He hears as Paimon welcomes their guests. They’re not quiet in the slightest, they laugh, drop something and walk just outside the library door.

It all flows right into the room, and the Wanderer doesn’t seem bothered at all.

“You’re awake, right? You’re messing with me.” Aether says, crossing his arms.

No reaction.

He snaps his fingers right besides the Wanderer’s exposed ear. Surely, this will be annoying enough to make him drop the act, or loud enough to wake him up.

Nothing happens.

Aether's heart drops.

He grabs the Wanderer’s arm, and he flinches with a yelp. His dazed eyes search the room wildly before locking into the Traveler’s.

“What are you doing?” He says though gritted teeth.

Aether raises his hands defensively.

“I am sorry, you wouldn’t wake up any other way.” He says. “It's time for the injection.”

The Wanderer eyes the open box on the table and his shoulders relax.

“Oh. It’s night already?” He mumbles, then looks out the dark windows.

Aether wants to comment something more, but doesn’t. He has a feeling the Wanderer would not appreciate his concern.

“Yup. Looks like you should choose better reading material.” He says instead, picking up the needle.

The Wanderer sits back as Aether walks behind him, preparing the shot.

“Look, about what I said earlier today…” The Wanderer says, looking down at his lap. “I am sorry.”

The words leave his mouth in a painfully unnatural way, like a child repeating something their parents said.

Aether glances at the back of the Wanderer’s head, not quite believing his ears. He puts the empty vial on the table.

“You should say that to Paimon, not to me.” He says, then sighs. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said any of that either.”

“That you would leave me alone? Oh, please don’t take that back.” His tone is light. Aether doesn’t remember hearing him speak like that before.

“We'll see about that. Ready?” Aether asks, touching the needle to the back of the Wanderer’s neck.

“Yes.” The Wanderer tenses up as Aether presses the needle. He can see faint purple lines spreading from the injection point as he puts the needle away.

He walks away to dispose of the used materials. Through the corner of his eyes, he sees the Wanderer rubbing the back of his neck and tapping his feet.

“For how long do you have to take this?” Aether asks, mostly to fill the silence.

“We don’t know. Nahida had some students develop that, they’re surprised it even works.” He looks up from his book, watching the Traveler put the little box back in its drawer.

“My veins are still flooded with paralyzing substance, the antidote can counter it for 24h, and then Dottore’s formula kicks in again and I can’t move.”

Aether makes a conscious effort to not let anything show on his face. It was such an inexcusably cruel design, to use a person as a battery for a machine. They didn’t even consider the possibility of him being defeated and taken out of it. Or maybe they did, but didn't care.

How could you ever agree to this? He wanted to ask.

“So this is more of a palliative solution than a cure?” He says instead.

“I am patient number one, so it could be making it worse for all we know. It doesn’t help that apparently researching artificial life is forbidden in Sumeru. They don’t even know where to start. And the people that helped put me in that machine-”

“They’re not touching you again.” Aether’s voice is angry, surprising even himself.

The Wanderer squints at him.

“Yes, Nahida didn’t like the idea either.”

The room is filled with awkward silence. The sounds of steps and then chatter come from the main hall.

“Your friends are here.” The Wanderer notes absently.

“Yeah, we’re playing card games. Do you want to join?”

——

The new harbinger was playing with the subordinates again. A ball game, involving a lot of running and yelling. How childish.

Scaramouche watched with disdain. That Ajax had no sense of hierarchy, laughing and exchanging jokes with those beneath him. But then again, he was young, even for a human. He had more in common with the workers than with the other harbingers.

The ginger caught Scaramouche’s eyes, and his smile soured. He handed the ball to one of the agents.

“Scaramouche, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Ajax said, walking towards him. Despite the casual words, his expression was serious.

They had reason to believe that there was a mole among them, supplying info and resources to locals, at the expense of the fatui. From the look in his eyes, the other harbinger knew exactly what this was about.

“I have identified the problem.” Scaramouche said. “I am here to handle it.”

He marched forward, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.” Childe said.

Scaramouche glared at the hand, and it was promptly removed.

He looked over his shoulder, at the agents that resumed the game, as if afraid of being heard.

“It's Ivanka, I know.” Childe said, voice low.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow.

“You know? And still, you’re playing games with her?" He chuckled. ”I underestimated you, that’s cold, even for a harbinger.”

Childe leaned forward, shaking his head.

“Let me handle this.” He murmured. “I talked to her and-“

“You talked to her?” Scaramouche scoffed. “That agent is spying on the fatui, and that is punishable by death. If you won’t do it, then get out of my way.”

“No.” Childe crossed his arms, positioning himself between Scaramouche and the agents.

The puppet’s eyes lit up threateningly, as purple sparkles flew out of his hands.

Childe’s eyes widened, but not in fear. He was amused.

“Oh, I am not one to turn down a good fight, but I will have to sit this one out.” Childe said.

He then leaned even closer to Scaramouche, and whispered in his ear.

“I heard the screams coming from the lab last night, I don’t think you’re in any condition to fight.”

The words sent a shiver down the puppet’s spine. Images of himself strapped to the lab’s table filled his mind. To think someone else was privy to that…

Scaramouche pushed Childe away, frowning. The electro energy in his palms made the other harbinger startle back, attracting a few looks.

Childe waved at them reassuringly, smiling, and the game resumed. He turned back to Scaramouche, and his look was stern.

“They warned me about you, you know? Word among the agents is that staying anywhere near you after you’ve been to Dottore’s lab is a sure-way to a painful death. Their words, not mine.” His voice remained low. “Well, I am not afraid of you."

“You should be, and so should they.” Scaramouche said. “If you let them get away with it without punishment, you’ll soon have a much bigger problem in your hands. They’ll do it again, and their friends will soon follow suit.”

“I won’t let you take out your bad mood on my workers.” Childe said. “I will handle this my way.”

Scaramouche glanced at the agents. A bunch of sweaty humans chasing after a filth ball. Why was he even concerning himself with this?

“You know what? I don’t care. Deal with your fucking mole on your own, I am going back to the city.” Scaramouche said, turning to leave.

"Why do you let him do that you? What do you stand to gain from-“ Childe started.

“If you don’t want me meddling into your business, then I suggest you return me the favor and stop sniffling around what doesn’t concern you.”

Chapter Text

Aether grins as he plays the final card. A solid eight damage across three characters, enough to wipe the floor with Cyno’s team.

“I win.” Aether says smugly.

Cyno raises an eyebrow.

“No, you don’t. I have a shield.” He taps at the card and Aether’s face falls. He does indeed have a shield, which means his Xingqiu still has 1 HP.

Cyno shrugs, playing his next card.

“Rookie mistake.” He says, as he kills Aether’s last character with a basic attack. “Actually, I win. But that was really close, congratulations.”

Aether sits back on the couch with a laugh.

“Yup, I think that’s enough TCG for me.” He says.

“Alright, who wants to go next?” Cyno asks, gathering the cards. Aether was the first victim of Cyno’s new, indestructible deck. And from the others faces, he was also the last.

First Cyno looks at Tighnari, who promptly shakes his head.

“No way.” He laughs.

Collei, who has barely looked away from her akasha terminal all night, doesn’t change that now.

All of them had received one for free, Aether included. Although Collei seems to be the one to like it the most among them.

It was Nahida's nifty solution to the akasha dilemma: instead of having it be connected directly to everyone’s brains, the new akasha was simply a device that you could hold in your hand.

A perfect balance between allowing knowledge sharing, without invading people’s brains. Collei was currently using it to play TCG with someone other than Cyno.

“I need to train against other people too.” She mutters.

Cyno looks like he wants to say something back, but he just shakes his head and moves on to Paimon, who’s too stuffed with food to even notice.

That’s when Cyno's eyes land on the Wanderer. He has been watching from the furthest corner of the couch, arms crossed and mouth shut.

“What about you, do you want to play?” Cyno offers.

Aether sits up straight on the couch, preparing to deal with a situation.

When he walked in with Aether, he was introduced as Nahida’s friend from Inazuma, who was staying at the Palace. He answered questions courtly, and as soon as attention wasn’t on him, he shut up.

Now the Wanderer stares at Cyno, unblinking. Angry eyes meeting unknowing ones.

The living room suddenly feels very small.

“No.” He says finally. “I've had enough of this.”

The Wanderer gets up and walks away as everyone watches. Even Collei looks away from her akasha terminal.

The library door closes with a bang and an awkward silence follows.

———

The Wanderer finds his usual seat at the library and falls into it with a sigh. Crawling back to his hiding place like a wounded animal again. How pathetic.

The lines on that men’s neck, the unmistakable marks of a lighting strike. He saw it the moment he entered the room, they were of his making.

A rush of memories floods his mind, things that he had not been aware of before.

The first time the Shouki no Kami was activated, the sensation of the wires pumping numbing substance into his body as his mind drifted away to the Pardis Dhyai. To Haypasia, his loyal follower.

His treacherous eyes fill with tears. It’s the same feeling from back then, when he was so desperate for comfort. Anything that didn’t hurt.

He props his elbows at the table and grasps at his pulsing temple.

Haypasia saw him, and she thought he was worthy. He couldn’t let them take her away from him.

So when the fatui came, he drew power from the gnosis, and he struck, indiscriminately, blindly. Like a fool. The scholars told him to stop and he told them to shut up or he’d hit them next.

He hit one of the Traveler’s friends, didn’t he? Maybe more than one? Did Aether know about this? Was this a sick joke?

Back in the living room, the General Mahamatra extended his hand to him and the Wanderer was disgusted with himself.

How could he ever take their friendship. He was nothing but a fool, and a coward. So he ran.

He stares at the open book in front of him.

Research on Zandik, the student that would one day become the Doctor.

He swipes a hand at the table and the mess of papers and books tumble to the ground. How prepotent of him, to think that he would ever be able to enact any sort of revenge.

The ache in his chest, it screams now. He really thought that he’d be able to fill it with card games and banter? That he would somehow fit in with these people?

It's pitiful.

He hates the person that he was, but he can never truly be one of them, can he?

It’s time that he accepts his new place in the world. A defeated, powerless fool, who was never able to achieve anything in the first place, and who’s company is desired by nobody.

Maybe it serves him right, to occupy himself with menial matters until his karma catches up to him.

Laying on top of the heap of papers in the ground, his abandoned akasha terminal. It’s better than books! Nahida had said, all these weeks ago when she gave it to him.

He remembers seeing the quiet girl at the party playing cards in that thing.

He picks it up and types:

how to play tcg alone

———

“Did I say something wrong?” Cyno asks.

“No, it’s…” Aether shakes his head. “He is not feeling well, that’s all. Don’t feel bad, it has nothing to do with you.”

Aether turns his head to stare at the closed door. It was stupid of him to think that making him come out of the library was any sort of progress.

“He is terrible with people.” Paimon says. She’s lying on the couch, belly up, surrounded by empty plates and still driving a fork towards her mouth.

“Introverted people can often come across as harsh in social situations without meaning to, I am sure your friend meant no harm.” Tighnari says, placating.

“Ehh… I wouldn’t be so sure.” Paimon mutters to herself.

“He looked sad.” Collei says. “People can do mean things when they’re sad. On accident.”

Tighnari smiles at her, but there’s a hint of sorrow in his eyes.

“That's true. It is none of our business though.” He says, pointedly putting an end to the subject. He turns to Cyno. “You know what? I will play a match with you.”

By the time Tighnari loses the game, everyone had already forgotten about the little incident.

The night goes about as expected, with a lot of laugher and jokes, good food, and not a single TCG win against Cyno.

After their friends leave, and Paimon has gone to bed, Aether stays in the kitchen to put the rest of the food away. There’s still a lot of it. More than they could ever hope to eat in the next couple of weeks.

Aether separates part of it with the intention of giving it away later. He’s almost done when he hears the door to the library opening.

The Wanderer marches into the kitchen unceremoniously.

“Play a match of TCG with me.” He says, slamming an akasha terminal on the kitchen table. There’s a digital imitation of a TCG board, and a prompt to invite another player to the game.

The Wanderer has a strange, restless energy to him as he stares at Aether, waiting for an answer.

“Playing card games? I thought that was beneath you.” The Traveler jokes, tone light.

He puts away a container filled with pudding, glancing at the Wanderer.

“It’s something to do.” He tries so hard to sound flippant, but his eyes betray him. They’re tense, and red. "You want to play or not?”

Aether pulls the chair behind him, knowing full well that this is not about card games.

They play under the kitchen light, surrounded by darkness and leftovers.

The Wanderer’s playstyle is merciless. He attacks with total abandon, sacrificing characters and support cards to get another hit in. There’s not a single healing card in his deck.

Aether’s deck is the complete opposite: his strategy is for a long game. Not a lot of damage at first, but if he’s able to complete his setup, it’s game over for the adversary.

It’s late, and he’s played dozens of matches already. The cards are starting to blur in his brain.

Aether yawns and makes his play.

The Wanderer’s eyes fly from the cards to the dice.

“No, you can’t do that.” He says, giving the card back to Aether.

Aether puts it back.

“Yes, I can. I have enough dice.”

The Wanderer looks at him like he’s stupid.

“That’s not what I meant. If you do that, I am going to kill your Noelle and you’re going to lose.”

Aether’s drowsy eyes take in the game.

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t see that.” He says, putting the dice down. “You win then, congrats.”

“I don’t want to win like this. You let me win.”

“I didn’t let you win. I made a mistake, because I am tired.” Aether says. “If you wanted to play seriously, you shouldn’t have stormed out of the party. Then you could have tried to beat Cyno, he’s way better than me.”

Something flashes across the Wanderer’s eyes and he looks away.

“Your friends are annoyingly loud, they make my ears ring.” He hisses.

Aether sighs and gets up. There’s only so much goodwill he can muster against that attitude.

“Ok then.” He taps the chair as he walks away. “Good night, Wanderer.”

“Wait. That’s not-“

Aether turns and meets the Wanderer’s eyes. He purses his lips, considering something.

"I saw the lighting marks on that guy with the dendro vision. I- I know that I did that. I just couldn’t-” He looks down, frustrated. “I don’t deserve their kindness."

Oh. So that’s what happened.

Aether steps towards the table, organizing his thoughts. He didn’t even consider the possibility of the Wanderer recognizing Tighnari. Well, that’s not true. On some level, he suspected it. And still, he let the Wanderer walk into it without warning.

Looking at the pain in his eyes, Aether feels ashamed. At least, it seems he knows nothing about Collei and Dottore.

He rests his hands on the back of the chair.

“His name is Tighnari.” Aether says. “I don’t think he’d be angry at you, even if he knew.”

“Ha. But the General Mahamatra would surely want my head on a stick.”

Aether nods.

“Yeah, probably at first.” He agrees. “I wanted the same, for quite some time. I saw you as a violent danger, that had to be stopped, no matter the cost. In my eyes you were a monster, not a person.”

The Wanderer listens silently, eyes dark.

"You said you would have killed me if you had the chance, and I would have done the same to you, back in Inazuma.” Aether continues.

“I would have regretted it later, when I inevitably learnt the full story. I am glad the chance didn't come.”

It’s the kind of honesty that he only allows himself when Paimon is not around. The bloodshed and the horrors, he tries to spare her of that.

Some things are best shared during quiet nights like this. When faces are partly obscured, and minds are tired. That’s when truths can be freely revealed.

“So your idea of me has changed?” The Wanderer asks, voice low. There’s candor in the question, even if it’s hidden behind a layer of scorn.

“I don’t want to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking. I thought it was obvious by now. I believe you deserve a proper chance at happiness.” Aether says. "Do you believe me when I say that?”

“Yes.” The Wanderer nods, eyes fixed on his lap.

“Good.” Aether clears his throat, sitting back down on his chair. “Want to go again? I will try not to lose this time.”

The Wanderer grins and grabs the dice.

Chapter Text

As it turns out, the Wanderer is very good at TCG. And he missed being good at something, even if it was a pathetic card game.

The game loses its novelty quickly.

His artificial brain can pick up cues and predict outcomes in a way that his flesh and bone opponents simply can not keep up with, at least not most of them.

Winning, on the other hand, never gets old.

The night passes by in the blink of an eye. By the time sun rays invade the kitchen, he’s already won his way into a TCG online league.

He moves to the living room to avoid those pesky rays of light from distracting him.

The Traveler sends him a strange look when he passes by.

“You've been playing all night?” He says.

“Isn't it obvious? I’ve been winning all night.”

Many opponents simply concede the match after a few plays, or merely upon seeing the Wanderer’s team comp. What a waste of time.

He makes sure to express his disdain for that type of behavior on the chat box. A match should always be fairly won, he had no use for these cowards.

As he rises through the ranks, the self-declared losers become increasingly less common. The players start to actually surprise him. Finally, some real skill.

A loss here and there is inevitable, and so is the rightful rage that fills him afterwards.

But it doesn't matter.

His mind hasn’t been this clear in ages! He is focused and he has a simple, attainable goal. Becoming the number one TCG player, which means he has to defeat that Cyno guy.

———

It is an exceptionally hot day in Sumeru, which is saying a lot. There’s no breeze and no clouds, only the merciless gaze of the sun, making plants wither and people hide inside the cool buildings.

Usually, in days like this, Paimon and Aether would seek a river or a lake and set up camp under the shade of a tree.

They have no such luxury while staying in the city. And most importantly, they learnt their lesson on leaving the Wanderer unattended. Not happening again.

So they stay in the gardens, where Paimon can dip her feet in the fountain while Aether reads a book. It’s a light novel, not the most exciting reading material, but it’s something to do.

Every now and then, they hear a frustrated scream coming from the living room.

“I think he lost again.” Paimon giggles.

Aether flips to the next page as some very obscene words echo through the palace.

“I hope the neighbors aren’t listening to this, we’ll get complaints.” He deadpans. Then his eyes meets Paimon's and they both laugh.

The Wanderer barely seems to notice that they’re there, but he also doesn’t hide out of sight anymore.

The subject of vision training is not brought up again, and Aether is glad. That was a dumb idea.

He is now acutely aware that if the Wanderer were to get seriously hurt, he’d be of little to no help. He can patch up a human, sure. But his knowledge of puppet anatomy is lacking to say the least.

Whatever is going on with his vision, they should wait until Nahida is back to figure out. Apparently the Wanderer had reached a similar conclusion and picked up a safer way to pass the time.

It is a remarkably uneventful morning. In Aether’s opinion, that’s the best kind of day.

Aether eats lunch in the kitchen table. From afar, he watches the Wanderer smiling maniacally in the living room.

He sits with his legs up on the couch, the akasha terminal lighting up his face and making the bags under his eyes look worse.

“Wretched vermin.” The Wanderer mumbles under his breath. The insult almost sounds fond.

He doesn’t look happy exactly, just… normal. Which is quite the progress.

Aether smiles to himself. Who would have thought. The therapeutic powers of TCG. He doesn’t dare disturb this magical moment of peace.

So he eats his lunch, grabs his book and goes finish it in the cool library.

Aether stops by the library door with a frown.

There’s a pile of books and papers laying on the floor, and he quickly recognizes it as the stuff that the Wanderer had been sleeping over earlier.

Aether raises an eyebrow. It is an eclectic pile of books and papers. It makes him wonder, what could possibly be keeping the Wanderer occupied for so long.

He shakes his head and firmly tells himself it is none of his business. It would be rude to pry. So he chooses a comfortable armchair by the window and opens his light novel.

But every now and then his eyes dart to the pile of books.

It is a short light novel. Maybe because he skipped a few pages, but that’s not the point. A few hours pass by and there’s only Aether and that mysterious pile of books in the library.

Maybe he should just put them away.

Aether picks up an old looking book titled “Akademiya Investigation Team’s Interim Report”.

He flips through it, it seems to be about the giant ruin guards spread around Sumeru. It has detailed drawings of machinery pieces, speculation about it’s origins… Why was the Wanderer interested in that?

Aether’s light novel sits abandoned on the floor as he sifts through the pile of papers on the floor. There are notes, books, reports… Aether’s eyes widen at the sight of a dissection record. It’s all ancient too, at least 300 years old.

At first glance, they don’t seem to have anything in common. But then he starts seeing a name everywhere. Zandik. A young Akademiya student, apparently fascinated by artificial life forms and very loose morals to say the least.

It sends a chill down his spine. Aether never really learned Dottore’s real name, now that he thinks about it. Looks like the Wanderer was already familiar with it.

There’s lab records, documenting experiments in live subjects. Attempts at controlling dreams and changing memories. Aether skims the pages and realizes that this is talking about human subjects.

He flinches away as pictures of dead people assault his eyes. Their hardened skins are peeled away, pins sticking out of them, labeled by color. Dozens on them.

Aether puts the book down and grabs his own discarded light novel. His heart is racing. How could the Wanderer stomach that? He has been subject to the Doctor’s ruthless attention, Aether can’t imagine how much worse this would be for him.

The Wanderer had spent hours locked up in this room, staring at those gnarly things. And when he left… Aether remembers the sight of the Wanderer grimacing in pain to use his vision, puking his insides out right afterwards.

He was torturing himself.

Aether doesn’t pretend to understand the Wanderer. Was he doing it out of a sense of guilt, or aimless self-destruction? He couldn’t tell, and it doesn't matter.

I believe he might still be a threat to himself. Nahida had said. And Aether feels dumb for not noticing the signs earlier. He had been warned, and still…

A chain of insults echo from the living room and Aether runs a hand through his face. The Wanderer has been playing that game for almost a full day with no pauses.

Whatever is going through his mind right now, it couldn’t be much better than what he was up to before. Aether wishes Nahida was there, she would know what to do.

He sighs and gets up. So much for his peaceful day.

———

The puppet walked behind Nahida like a shadow.

“It's only for today.” She had promised.

He didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe any of those people, not even Nahida, with her kind words and generous deals. His head buzzed and his body ached and he knew that death was one mistake away. For all he knew, he could be walking towards his grave.

All heads turned as Nahida crossed the halls of the Akademiya. They barely register the puppet with his lowered gaze and saggy clothes that followed her.

Nahida took him to a court, and asked him to sit in the back, out of sight.

The large auditorium was filled to the brim, with scholars and simpletons alike. The fatui could be among them, that was Nahida’s concern. But the puppet knew that all these people had reason to wish him harm, they only needed to recognize him as the false god.

It was Azar’s trial. The man that had kept Nahida locked in a cage for decades enters the room in dignified silence. No guards followed him, no cuffs covered his wrists. He stood in front of the child-god and waited for his sentence.

“ And this… boy, is actually a robot? An artificial life form, strong enough to hold a gnosis?” The sage’s eyes shone as he addressed Dottore.

Scaramouche stood with his arms crossed, as the men talked about him as if he wasn’t there.

“Yes,” Dottore hissed. “With only a few adjustments, we can turn him into the new god of wisdom. One that is more… fitting to your needs.”

“Fascinating!”

He looked the same as the puppet remembered, with his head held high and snotty presence. A fool, he was. About to meet his punishment.

It was easy to imagine that the god would dish out her judgment to Azar and then turn her gaze to him. You’re next.

Nahida looked down at Azar from her podium, even from the back, the puppet could see that her gaze was kind. Even after everything, she held no grudge against him.

“Exile, really?” The puppet scoffed, just outside of the Akademiya doors.

“We can’t have Azar roaming around the Akademiya. With the contacts he has, it’s inevitable he’d get himself in trouble again. So, yes, I think exile is a fitting measure.” Nahida stopped and turned to face the puppet. “You disagree?”

He crossed his arms. Azar was just another insufferable human, the sage's fate had no importance to him.

But for Nahida, that was the man that tormented her, kept her away from her birth right as a god. He just walked free, with her blessing no less.

And still, she smiled.

"I don’t understand it.” He said. "You’re in a position to rightfully punish those who wronged you. No one would bat an eye if you had that man killed. But still, you’re going to let him get away with a slap on the wrist?”

“What Azar did was wrong, but making him suffer won't fix it. It would only bring more pain into this world. I didn't deserve to suffer, and he doesn't deserve to suffer. And neither do you.”

Nahida had this look, something akin to sympathy. A sour smile, reserved for poorly hidden attempts at kindness.

The puppet hated it.

“Whatever you say, Buer.”

He stepped away, shaking his head. If she wanted to keep him around to make her feel better about herself, then fine. But he had no interest in her pity.

At least that’s what he told himself, but Nahida’s words had a way of burying themselves into his head. Maybe because part of him wanted them to be true.

———

The Wanderer feels the air move as the pixie floats right behind his head. She doesn’t say a word, just watches the screen as he plays.

The floating child had not met his eyes since last morning, when he yelled at her. He cringes at the memory. She should just keep hiding behind the Traveler, it would be easier for everyone.

But she stays there, uncharacteristically quiet. After a few minutes of this, he speaks up.

“What do you want?” His voice is softer than intended, any edge had been sanded away by guilt.

“Paimon likes watching games.” She whispers. “And there’s nothing better to do.”

There’s a snarky remark at the tip of his tongue, but the Wanderer bites it back. She says something else, but his bad ear fails to pick it up.

“Stop with the whispering, it’s annoying.” He doesn’t look away from the screen.

“Hey! Paimon is doing this for your sake!” She screeches. “You said Paimon’s voice was annoying!”

The Wanderer puts the akasha down and turns to face the pixie.

“And now I am taking it back.” He says. “Do you want to watch the game or not?”

Paimon squints, distrustful.

“Is this an apology?”

“It's the closest you’ll get to one.“ He mumbles.

Paimon lets out an aggrieved grunt as she stomps in the air.

“You’re impossible!” She says. “Fine, but Paimon will give you an ugly nickname!”

The Wanderer rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile creeping up on his lips as he rolls the next set of dice.

Through the corner of his eyes, the Wanderer sees Aether entering the living room. He has that stupid injection box in his hands, and an equally annoying look of bewilderment in his eyes.

He can imagine it’s a strange sight, Paimon propped up at the back of the couch, attentively watching him play. She must have done the same over the Traveler’s shoulder countless times.

Was the shock in his eyes worry, or jealousy? He must not like seeing his dear friend with someone like him.

“Woow! That was really smart.” She murmurs.

“That was the enemy.” The Wanderer says through gritted teeth.

He sits up, putting the akasha down and trying to ignore the way his tense artificial muscles ache.

“Still, they wiped almost all of your team in one round! That’s smart.” Paimon chirps, mischievous.

“And how are your wins lately, Paimon?” Aether says, sitting down at the opposite couch and opening the injection box on his lap.

“Paimon is a perfectly good TCG player! What are you implying?”

Aether chuckles.

“Nothing.” He says, then raises his eyes to meet the Wanderer’s, the needle rests in his hand, filled with purple liquid. “Are you ready?”

“Are you ready?” The student asked. A shy girl, who was terrified of him.

The puppet blinked through blurry eyes. What kind of question was that?

For days, he watched these people, these kids, fumble around him. He woke from his endless dream, just to find himself prisoner to a broken body, hostage to a child-god and her child scientists who had no idea what they were doing.

So yes, he was ready to change that.

“He is ready.” Nahida answered for him. He couldn’t feel it, but she was holding his hand.

“Oh, ok. I mean, ok Lord Kusanali. Sorry. I ask because- well, we don’t really know but- umm… This might hurt.“

The Wanderer grimaces as the familiar burning sensation spreads through his body. He feels it filling his veins, leaving a trail of energizing fire behind.

It’s only after the shots that he realizes how his body had already started to stiffen again.

He picks up the akasha again.

“Hey, I was thinking.” The Traveler starts, putting away the needle. “We should go give away some of this food tomorrow, before it goes bad.”

The Wanderer doesn’t look away from the loading screen. He hopes those two spend the entire day out so he can play in peace.

"You want to give away Paimon’s food?” She laments. “Maybe we can eat everything until then…”

Aether chuckles.

“I don’t think we can…” He says fondly. “Remember that orphanage we saw? It accepts donations. And besides, there’s a nice fishing spot just a few minutes away.”

“I guess it could be fun.” Paimon says.

The room is filled with silence, and the Wanderer can feel Aether’s eyes at the back of his head.

He sighs.

“Can I say no?”

“Not really. But it’s going to be fun, I promise!”