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“The people of Mondstadt are my children, regardless of whether they were born here or not. Every person living here deserves my protection.”
Lyney has heard this spiel before a long time ago when he was more naive, more desperate. It was said by a cold but inviting voice, lulling him and his sister into a sense of comfort and security that they have never had the opportunity to indulge in. They walked into the House of the Hearth with no idea of what it fully entailed, but with everything to gain by joining. Because who wanted homeless, orphaned twins anyway? The corruption of Fontaine runs deep and tepid, hidden underneath, but the stench growing more foul and wretched the longer you stayed.
As such, he asks, “And do you not demand anything of them?”
Venti looks at him, the light of the setting sun haloing his hair in a cascade of pinks and purples. His eyes glowed despite the shadow, his face serious. He has never looked more like the god that he was until this moment. Audibly, wind whistles between them, ruffling his clothes in a gentle caress. "When a child falls and begins to cry, what do you do?" Venti asks suddenly instead of answering after a moment of silence.
Lyney does not even take a moment to ponder before answering, “I pick them up, I tend to their wounds, and I comfort them.”
Venti nods, satisfied with that answer. “I treat Mondstadt like that child,” he says, looking down at the small cluster of people happily laughing and drinking away merrily. “When I first came into power, I taught them how to be happy and free after generations of tyranny left my people hateful and unhappy. Then I left. I let them live as they wished and the people of Mondstadt allowed to thrive, to find its identity outside of mine or anyone else’s divine intervention. I was allowed to travel and do as I wished.
“However, with the freedom to do as they please came room for mistakes. The people of Mondstadt make mistakes, and they suffer from those mistakes. When that happens, I pick them up from the ground, do what I can in my power to fix their mistakes for the future, and comfort their hurt.”
Like a parent would to a child, all grown up and ready to leave the nest.
It makes sense that the god of freedom would have this perspective on ruling. With how Venti put it, his way of ruling, while not perfect, is not as flawed as most originally think. Many people in the Fatui do not understand or appreciate the way Barbatos rules his people. However, Lyney could . The unconditional love he has for his siblings functions in much the same way, and that causes him to realize what exactly this archon has for his nation.
“You love the people of Mondstadt,” Lyney says, looking at Venti whose hands have since stopped plucking at his lyre and now lay at his lap. The two of them, sitting on the hands of a statue dedicated entirely to Barbatos, in front of a cathedral devoted to him, during a festival that celebrates him and the teachings he taught his people. “And they love you, despite everything.”
Venti smiles, this time melancholic and for once he looks the ancient god of freedom with enough power to cut mountains in half, "Not all of them. Sometimes I don’t arrive in time, lives are lost that I could have prevented. People have called me lazy for how I decide to handle my rule over Mondstadt or stupid for allowing myself to become this weak for years, but I never wanted this power in the first place.
“A god of freedom, trapped by his own accolade.”
Lyney stays silent, unsure of how to respond. The words said were heavy with centuries full of wisdom borne from mistakes and experience. He struggles to reconcile such a carefree person who trades food for songs and who still jumps into puddles like he isn’t old enough to be someone’s great grandfather thrice over. However, in a roundabout way, it makes sense. Just like with light and shadow, how can you understand true freedom without understanding true captivity? He wants to say that he understands being trapped due to circumstances, forced because the situation demanded it and there were no better options.
Instead Lyney places his hand on Venti’s own, causing him to look up, startled. “Hey,” he says, smiling at him. “Do you want to see a magic trick?”
Venti blinks, confused, before laughing. “Of course,” he says, and it strikes Lyney that despite his simple appearance, it could never hide his ethereal divinity.
Lyney swallows, taking his hat off, glad that Rosseland stayed at home for their trip, and taking out an apple from its depths. “No, that’s not right,” he says, feigning confusion. “Here.” He passes the apple to Venti and digs around further into his hat. Out comes a flurry of butterflies next that sends them both into a peal of laughter, and then a small explosion of confetti.
“Oh? Is the genius magician from Fontaine having trouble with his trick?” Venti asks, teasingly as he takes off his hat and dusts some of the confetti from his hair.
Lyney laughs, “I like to call it managing your expectations instead.” He takes out a handkerchief from his hat, and another tied to it, and another, and another. He feigns frustration as he pulls even more desperately before he takes the last of it. “Maybe I should ball it up.” He balls the entire thing back up until it was spooled in his clutched hands. He then turns to Venti, “May I please ask you to blow? Perhaps it needs a little extra godly power.”
Venti delightfully blows into his fist, and with flick of his wrist, Lyney produces a small bouquet of rainbow roses. “Oh!” Venti gasps, eyes widening. “That’s incredible!”
Lyney smiles, trying his best to hide his bashfulness, “I heard that the people of Mondstadt have the option of offering Windblumes to Barbatos at his statue. I’m just following in the tradition.”
Venti stares at him eyes inexplicably bright and wide before flickering down to the roses with a soft look. Night has long since fallen so Lyney can only see what the light of the moon permits, but if he didn’t know any better he would think that Venti’s ears were pink. “I accept your offering, my dear magician,” he says after a brief pause, looking up at him, his eyes glowing an otherworldly cyan. After a beat, he takes the flower from behind his ear and leans forward to attach it to the front of his clothes, the flower stark against his dark clothing. The wind around them picks up, almost knocking him off the statue. “There. A Windblume for you too.”
A blessing, Lyney realizes, from the Anemo Archon. Any gift from the Seven is a rare and powerful thing, which makes them cherished. The moment he finds his voice he says, “Thank you.”
Venti says nothing, just grins and takes a bite from his apple.