Chapter Text
Over the past few days, a storm had been brewing. Electricity had fizzled in the air, a heaviness with each breath that clung to lungs. Tumultuous clouds had peeked over the horizon, crawling nearer each night, and now the sun was a faded blot behind mist and powdery fog. The world couldn’t sit still any more. Grass rippled, unsettled by what was to come; cows lowed and some had begun to hunker down in preparation; the elders of Khaenri’ah had begun to murmur whispered prayers to Celestia, furtive eyes turned towards the crop fields. If a flood occurred, they would be at risk of food shortages over the next cold months. Even Lumine had paused to send a prayer up to those skies, only now they were darkening rapidly, some low rumbles rolling forwards without warning. It was definitely going to rain, although the threat of worse was becoming an apparent reality.
Lumine had just finished hauling potato sacks into carts to be transported to Mondstadt. Her arms were still on fire, muscles screaming, and yet she had desperately needed some time alone. A wooden sword lay discarded at her feet, forgotten for now, but a little secret she lay buried in the hill for no one to find. If it weren’t for the itchy woollen dress that draped around her, she would’ve been cold, although her fingers had now begun to grow cold and numb. She shouldn’t have been sat out there for so long, waiting for the rain to come. Moreover, she was on a hill, where the wind was a little stronger, so the biting chills were worse up. Still, she liked to sit up here. She could look out across Khaenri’ah, lost in her thoughts.
Rolling paddocks and farmland spread out before her, reaching towards the horizon. The verdant display before her was what she had grown up with, a small girl racing through grain fields, ducking beneath ears of corn and spending hours playing hide and seek. With the carts loaded up, they would be leaving tomorrow, trundling through cobbled streets and bumping along dirt roads for their journey to a city that would swallow Khaenri’ah up within moments. There was no pathway leading up to her hill, but a sandy lane emerged from the grassy fields, transforming into cobbles that drifted into a cramped village. Stooped huts leaned in to one another, side-by-side like dominoes, their thatched roofs resembling hastily made nests, where the bright ivory gleam of an actual bird’s egg glistened from where she sat. Small figures roamed the market stalls, hasty to finish any last minute shopping before the heavens wept.
A piercing cry snapped Lumine out of her head. She craned her neck directly upwards, seeing a dark shape in the sky above her. It was a strangled noise, a mix between a shriek and a roar, which was a tell-tale sign that she was looking up at a Monstadtian Stormterror. Although they didn’t often approach civilised areas frequently, it was not impossible to come across the magnificent bird, and even from this far Lumine could see its long, azure feathers stretched out above her. She had never seen one up close; in fact, this was the closest she had laid eyes on one, but even from where she sat, Lumine could tell she was looking at a very large bird of prey. It lingered on the wind, never falling, as though suspended like a puppet on strings. She had been told that they were larger than a child and that only the strongest men could carry one of them on a sturdy bicep. Some old folk tales said the Stormterror only appeared when disaster was arising; they were considered a “bad” omen, although Lumine couldn’t understand how birds could mean anything towards the future.
This Stormterror was an anomaly into her usually repetitive routine. Often, her days would have no points of interest, idle hours spent beneath cerulean skies with fluffy white clouds scudding along. Mondstadt was known for its gentle breezes and yet, as she raised her head to trail the movements of the Stormterror, she could see a tumultuous dark shape broiling on the horizon. Perhaps the birds arrived when the air became thick with rain and thunder, but to call it an omen of bad weather was taking things too far. She watched, nonplussed, as the bird danced on the wind, probably just searching for some respite before the downpour began.
Still, a storm wasn’t anything to make light of. She had heard stories of flooded villages and, more importantly, muddied tracts of fields, seedlings and saplings thrust up from the earth and pooling in miserable agony as their short lives ended. If there weren’t any crops to sell, then there was no money, and the wintery season would begin the threat of starvation well before they knew it. Judging by the clouds and the darkening sky, Lumine could only guess this particular storm would be worse than a rainy day, but no terrifying catastrophe that would bring the end of her hometown. The stories of old, of great deluges and gaunt faces, were best kept in the past, and Lumine was more than happy to assume they only seemed worse than they really were. No life-changing storms were going to hit any time soon.
She was waiting for Aether’s return. His duty had been lugging carts down to the town’s entrance in preparation for transport later that day and he had promised to meet her at the top of the hill. A part of her knew she needed to hide the sword away, to keep her shame kept secret beneath the cool earth. For now, though, she shivered in the dry and chilly air that cut through the woollen clothes she wore. In truth, she hated wearing dresses; the wind always found a way up the skirts and then her backside was freezing. If that wasn’t the case, then it was raining and the fabric stuck to her legs like an itchy layer of skin. It would be much easier to wear the same clothes as Aether. The trousers and tunic he wore day in, day out where practical and sturdy against all kinds of weather. When it was summer, he wore shorts, socks pulled up to just beneath his knees. Her mother called it “indecent”, so instead Lumine was forced to sweat through the tiresome dresses, no matter how hot it was. Whatever the weather, her clothes weren’t accustomed to working long and hard hours in the fields, sweating and plucking potatoes.
Perhaps that was part of her mother’s ploy. She was now nineteen, a year past her marriage prime, and her mother was very quick to frequently remind her that she needed to find a suitable partner, that there were many handsome young men who would make good husbands and fathers for her. The same pressure was never pushed towards Aether, and whenever she brought this up, she would always receive a response similar to, “Women make better mothers when they’re alive to see their children grow up”, as though that had even remotely answered her question. It was these kinds of conversations that Aether never got involved in. Secretly, that irritated Lumine. She wished Aether supported her just a little more with these personal situations. Just as she was brushing off those extant feelings, she saw a small shape making his way up towards her hill.
Sighing, she pawed at the dark earth, a half-hearted attempt to bury her sword, returning it to its shallow grave. She tried not care about the dirt that got trapped beneath her nails, though her fingers were left with a thickness that was hard to get rid of, even though she tried to scrape her nails against the hem of her dress. Lumine was sure that her sword’s hiding place was pitiful, given the mound was noticeable, and a hard rain would wash away the freshly dug mud, but barely anyone went this far towards the woods. Rumours of hilichurl camps within the darkness left a fear of being attacked by savages, and not many people were willing to risk that. So she patted the earth, and stood to greet the small shape that had become her brother.
Her brother approached, dusting his hands from the potatoes he had been carrying. He had been such a scrawny boy when he was younger, with especially thin little wrists and scraggly, birdlike legs. Their father worried he wouldn’t grow up to be strong like the other boys his age, because Aether had always been the smallest. Never had any of them expected him to suddenly shoot up past Lumine, until he became the strongest and sturdiest boy in the village. He still wasn’t the tallest - he never would be - but he was like an ox, steady in his work without a single complaint, yet one of the greatest in strength and least deserving of the modesty he wore.
“Ready to go?” he asked, and she nodded.
They lived in Khaenri’ah, a small village in the Province of Anemo. It was tucked away to the side, concealed by thick, spruce forests and out the way of society. The plains by the forests had been cultivated for agriculture and many of the potatoes were important to Anemo’s leading city, named Mondstadt. Other than that, there was very little significance to Khaenri’ah. It was humble compared to all other villages and towns and could never compare to a great city. It was scenic, though. With its verdant pastures and wheat stalks dancing beneath the wind, it was certainly a sight for sore eyes, an oasis well-hidden behind the forests of Anemo.
Lumine had never been to Mondstadt before, but her father and Aether had, and neither had favourable words on the conditions. They had described dirty streets with the impoverished wandering around in search of food. That had surprised her. Only villages were supposed to be in poverty. There were days when even they had to go through shortages, particularly through the winter. Their father had also complained about the pickpockets. The streets apparently “had more of them than they did rats,” and he had been quick to add that the rats had teemed everywhere. Both had been glad to return to the peaceful countryside of Khaenri’ah, which had left Lumine no incentive whatsoever to travel to the city of Mondstadt. The local, sandy footpaths and the consistently familiar faces were all that she needed anyway.
On their way to their house, they were always provided a colourful scene of friendly villagers. There was the baker, his red-cheeked face beaming as he called out for people to buy his bread, and his wife put her latest apple pie on the windowsill to cool down. The butcher was hauling barrels of salted meat onto a wagon that would head off to Mondstadt, his apron stained with dried blood and leather gloves adorning his hands as he waved. The old gypsy attempted to entice the twins over to buy her crystals and healing beads, a ploy that never worked since Aether was adamant magic didn’t, and couldn’t , exist. The milkmaids giggled as they passed, bright blue eyes tracing over Aether, who paid them no attention whatsoever, mainly because he would never notice they all had crushes on him - oblivious to love, in other words. The buildings were short and squat, thatched rooves sturdy against the elements, and yet their overcast shadows brought comfort to Lumine as she followed her brother home.
As they approached their house, one that looked the same as all others with its weather-beaten wooden beams, Aether and Lumine hesitated to see a strange carriage standing outside their home. It looked immaculate, a polished masterpiece of wood and gold, with four white stallions attached to the front with reins. A number of men in chainmail were posted, swords at their belts and serious expressions on their faces. They wore a strange insignia that Lumine didn’t know, although Aether murmured something about the Mondstadtian governor. He had always been more attentive in class, but his excursions beyond Khaenri’ah had better equipped him for the world beyond. When they caught sight of them, the guards instantly stood to attention. That was only done for important people. Casting a glance over her shoulder, Lumine couldn’t see anyone of a worthy status behind them.
“What’s going on?” she whispered to Aether, who shrugged as they approached.
Suddenly, their mother appeared in the doorway. She wore a harassed expression in her blue eyes, her blonde hair streaming behind her as she rushed towards Lumine. She stood a good two inches shorter, but still commanded fierce respect. Their mother was one of those women, the kind who sought perfection in everything. She clasped Lumine’s face in her hands, inspecting every inch of her skin.
“What are you -?” Lumine complained, but her mother ignored her, licked her thumb, and rubbed at her cheek.
“You need to look presentable,” she hissed and pulled Lumine’s hair from its tie, letting blonde strands cascade down to her waist. “This looks so messy .”
“Stop it,” she tried to bat her mother’s hands away, but it was difficult to do with her wiry hands insistently combing through her hair.
Her mother glanced towards the guards, before straightening Lumine’s dress and thrusting her hair tie on to Aether. Her brother took it without argument, as their mother grabbed Lumine’s wrist and hauled her inside.
“What’s going on?” Lumine scowled, as she was brought into the kitchen, where her father was hovering near the table.
“Lord Barbatos,” her mother bowed and grasped the back of Lumine’s head, bringing her down with her.
Lumine straightened up as soon as she could to see a young man seated at the table. He had a shock of dark hair, an unusual sight in the Province of Anemo. To accompany that, his eyes were a rich emerald in colour. His skin remained porcelain and unscathed, and he was dressed in such fine fabrics. A doublet sat, comfortable, on his shoulders, forest in colour, and seemingly laced with gold stitching. The belt at his waist was drawn in tight, accentuating his lean, slender figure. He looked like he would fit nicely on a horse. He wore dark, tailored breeches and shin-high leather boots. Not a scratch could be seen upon them. His appearance was something else, to be sure. Lumine had never seen someone who looked so clean before.
Balanced in smooth hands was a golden lyre, one foot rested on the edge of the chair he comfortably occupied. In the dim, dingy surroundings, he seemed to gleam, like an angel appearing on a moonless night. His buckled shoes were almost arrogantly placed on their furniture, even though there were faded burns on the table from hot pots, and the odd hole in the floorboards revealed a patch of packed mud that had been prepared from very long ago. The windows only let in so much light despite the thin layer of grime that covered their lower halves, the accumulation of dust and dirt on the windowsill over their many years of living here. Lumine guessed this was an unexpected visitor, as her mother would have spent a good amount of time making the house more pristine than it had been since it was built.
“Incredible!” he remarked, staring at her, and there was a light beaming in his eyes. “She truly does look like the hero from those old legends.”
Lumine shot a questioning stare at her mother, who looked straight ahead, purposefully avoiding her gaze. Behind the young man’s shoulder, Lumine’s father sent her a warning look. She could hear Aether’s footfalls behind her, but she didn’t dare look over her shoulder to see her reaction. Her mother would probably pull her ear if she did.
“Very good,” the young man leapt to his feet, lyre under his arm, and clapped his hands. “I shall marry her!”
Aether audibly snorted behind her and Lumine held a cough in. Eyes turned towards the pair of them.
“ Marry me?” she repeated.
“ Lumine ,” her mother hissed.
“But of course,” the young man turned towards her with a flourish, unfazed by her reaction. “I had heard there were twins living in Khaenri’ah. You people are good luck. I thought it to be a rumour at first, but nope!”
“Good luck?” Aether murmured under his breath, confused.
Lumine stood on the spot, frozen. She was trying to look at her father, but he now kept his arms folded and eyes to the ground. Not a single word was uttered from him. She had thought he would’ve defended her more. Her father always took her side. Why was he suddenly abandoning her, too? Lumine let her gaze drift towards the young man with dark hair. Her mother had called him ‘Lord Barbatos’. That meant nothing to Lumine. She should’ve listened in class more.
“I shall return next week to take you to Mondstadt,” he crossed the room and took her hand, lightly touching his lips to Lumine’s skin.. “It was a pleasure to be acquainted to you, Miss Lumine.” He paused to glance around the cramped kitchen with an attempt to hide his disdain, before returning a purposeful gaze to her. “I shall craft a song for your starshine name to be sung through the Favonius Church, and you shall look as resplendent as you sound ~”
Lord Barbatos released her hand and left the room. Outside, the chink of armour could be heard as the guards assembled to take Lord Prissy away. How dare he look at their home as if it were nothing? It may not have been impressive, but it could’ve been far worse. The door softly closed and the horses’ hooves stamped as they trotted away down cobbled roads. She turned towards her family. They all wore still expressions.
“What was that ?” Lumine broke the silence.
““That” was the young Lord Barbatos,” her mother folded her arms and glowered at her. “I’m surprised he still wants to marry you after the display you put on there.”
“Is that all you can say?” she gawked. “You can’t let this happen to me.”
“Why not?” her mother looked incredulous. “It’s about time you got married. You’re nineteen now. Can’t be having you get older.”
“I don’t even know him,” Lumine countered.
“He’s wealthy and owns an impressive title,” her mother pointed out. “You don’t need to get to know him. You won’t have to pick another potato in your life.”
“But he lives in Mondstadt ,” Lumine glanced at her mother.
“You’ll be Lady Barbatos,” she remarked, amazed.
“This isn’t fair , ” Lumine walked up to the table and slammed his hands on its smooth, unforgiving surface, look her father in his gleaming, gold eyes. “ Dad, say something . You can’t just let them sell me off like a… like a… potato .”
The corners of his mouth turned up briefly, but he heaved out a long sigh and turned those golden eyes to her. He was an older man now, his long blonde hair streaked with silver that seemed to increase every day. Despite this, he still stood strong and proud. There was a sadness in his expression today, though, that Lumine wasn’t sure how to explain.
“Why are you complaining ? ” her mother joined her side, irritated. “ This is an opportunity. You’ll have a wonderful life with Lord Barbatos, yet you seem inclined to turn it away. What is wrong with you, Lumine?”
She pursed her lips and looked at her mother. “I don’t want to marry that man.”
“You’ll finally give us grandchildren,” her mother argued, glancing at her father.
“That’s…” Lumine struggled to find the words to say past her anger. “I don’t - This isn’t fair . Why don’t I have a say in this?”
“Clearly because you’d make the wrong decision,” her mother huffed. “And look what you’re doing: making the wrong decision! Honestly, Lumine, I thought you hated picking potatoes? You’re always complaining about that, so I’d have thought this was the escape you’ve always wanted.”
“Why isn’t Aether getting the same pressure as me?” she whirled on her twin, who hastily stared at the ground.
“Because your brother doesn’t have a biological clock between his legs,” her mother raged.
Somehow, that was far worse than her usual retort. Lumine was only valuable for having children, the dismal situation that had faced many women long before her, and possibly after her, too. Her heart sank, she felt flames broil within her, and she wanted to spit venom. She wanted to cause injury.
“So, at the end of the day, I’m just another sow to birth a litter to you,” Lumine snapped. “Luckily it takes one monumental bitch to see another.”
Her mother paled. Aether looked shocked. “Lumine!”
“No - these people don’t care whether their grandchildren have a decent man as their father!” Lumine’s voice had grown incredulous; her smirk resembled a sneer. “Lord Barbatos didn’t like our lifestyle. How can a decent man criticise the living standards of his extended family?”
“I would criticise our living standards and I live here,” her father thundered out of the blue, rising to his feet. “You’ll be marrying him, Lumine. There’s no arguing about it, understood? I’ve made my decision and I’ve already agreed with Lord Barbatos that you’re to marry him.”
She stared at him, stunned. There was a tightness in her chest.
“I refuse ,” she snapped, voice hoarse.
Lumine turned on her heel. Aether hastily stepped out from her path.
“Where are you going?” her mother demanded.
She ignored her and stormed away from the house.
“Lumine!” her mother bellowed, but she was already dashing outside into the late afternoon sun.
Stomping down the road, heads turned to Lumine in wonder. One woman, the town crier’s wife, even had the glass to ask what such an important man was doing at their house, but Lumine told her it was none of her business. Puffing out her cheeks, she headed up the hill towards the dark forest, a place where nobody else went. She often went there. The birdsong was peaceful and undisturbed and it was the best place to think. Pushing the wild locks of blonde hair from her face, she threw herself at the base of a thick trunk and drew her knees close up to her body.
How could her parents come to the conclusion that she would be fine with marrying a stranger, a random lord from Mondstadt? Lumine had always been a free spirit. Tying herself down with a man had never appealed to her and she didn’t even want to think about children in her current mood. And Aether… he had said nothing . Lumine felt betrayed by the boy she had placed so much faith into through her entire life. She wanted to scream, cry and tear out her hair, but she also needed to be quiet, so nobody could find her. Sulking would have to do.
A beautiful glow filled the air, speckles of teal dust raining down. Raising her head, Lumine saw a small butterfly hovering above in the branches of trees. Its wings fluttered languidly, transparent like glass, and as it landed on the branch, Lumine had the impression the creature was looking at her. She half-expected it to fly away, to disappear from view forever in its terror at seeing such a strange and terrifying creature. Instead, it flew down, landing near her feet, wings idling in the breeze. Lumine fell still, watching the delicate creature bend its antennae, skittering across twigs and mud, never coming near enough to touch, but not fleeing.
These were the things Lumine would miss if she were to go to Mondstadt. The natural world, the smell of fresh pines, the verdant colours that surrounded her. Lord Prissy would never be able to provide such a miracle to her. He probably wouldn’t even let her leave the home. Lumine suspected that, if she were to marry him, she would have a screeching baby rolling around in her arms by the end of the year. The butterfly dipped its wings, settling against dried leaves, as Lumine dared to drag her knees up to her chest and hunch over, a curled ball beneath a strong oak. The wind whispered through the trees. The forest was still, waiting, watching, bated breath; listening.
The life that filled the forest had always followed her around as a child. She had trod this path many times, no matter how many times the village elders prattled their warnings about hilichurls. Lumine had never encountered a hilichurl before. Supposedly they set up camps, dancing around the fire and chanting songs in an unknown language. Supposedly they were dangerous, wielding clubs, and arrows. Supposedly there were evil sorcerers amongst them, who could cast spells that would alter you forever, or burn you alive, or freeze you to death. Lumine wasn’t even certain they existed, but were instead a nighttime horror story to ensure children behaved properly and didn’t wander too far from the village.
And yet, she had the sense that the forest really was listening, that her movements were being watched. That sense had lingered with her even as a child, but no matter how carefully she stared through the masses of trunks swarmed around her, no pair of eyes met hers. There was clearly nothing else in the forest with her, but that feeling of being watched persisted, no matter how much she tried to distract herself by gazing upon the beautiful butterfly perched before her. She forced herself to ignore the wind’s whispered warnings, but instead to focus on how the leaves rustled, a physical effect created by the whims of nature.
Even in the protective glade she had found herself within, Lumine felt she was surrounded, penned-in, by an entire civilisation of life that was waiting for her to make the next move. A distant cry from above reminded her of the Stormterror from earlier. It was still around, and that momentary distraction had her raising her eyes skywards, searching for that dark shape with its mass of feathers. She couldn’t see it from here. It unsettled her. She didn’t know why it unsettled her. Her mind was swimming with thoughts about omens, of all things.
As she sat there, it occurred to her just how dark it was beneath the leafy canopies. Even though it was daylight, the sun could only send the odd spear through the wall of trees up above. Lumine was far from home, watching a crystalline butterfly nestle a pace away, with the cries of an anguished bird roaring around the heavens. There was an uncanny feeling, and the more she thought about it, she realised that she was being watched. It wasn’t the same as a feeling of being watched: Lumine was being watched .
It was the plants, hunkered down by the bases of trees. Even though fauna and flora rustled, as though bending their heads in greeting towards her, distinct shapes that weren’t humanoid lurked beneath them. Fat, squat little shapes with unblinking beady eyes, glistening and catching the light from the butterfly, trained on her. She would never have noticed them without looking, would have passed them off as stones and bushes and beetles and branches; however, she couldn’t deny that there was indeed an army of creatures , or things , watching her. The stories of hilichurls with their clubs and arrows whirled in her mind, and although she should have dashed away, back to the haven of home, terrible curiosity swamped her mind, and she was rising to her feet, approaching, before she could stop herself.
The butterfly remained unperturbed, wings now flat against each other on its pebbly perch. With bated breath, Lumine kept her morbid march towards the shapes that lurked, that twitched and shivered under the guise of woodland scenery. She was certain - yes, she could see it now - that there were half a dozen eyes surrounding her, a silent semi-circle that had encroached on her sacred copse without her even realising. Lumine was almost upon those watching eyes, her own breaths slowed to a near standstill, squinting through the leaves to get a better impression of what - or who - returned her gaze.
A branch crunched behind her.