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It’s not every day someone gets the jump on the ever-capable Traveler. Of course, it still happened, but usually a Fatui Harbinger or two was involved. Maybe the occasional god. Very rarely was it a band of regular people, though a few of these goons were Allogenes. If only Celestia only gave Visions to good people…
The what-ifs didn’t matter now, anyway. Aether had been captured, somehow, and was now sitting in a chair with his hands bound around the seat and behind his back. The Traveler lifted his chin and glared down at his captors. He wasn’t feeling very nice today.
“What could you possibly do to me?” he taunted, sliding his eyes over the group. They were all definitely human, but they weren’t Treasure Hoarders, or Eremites, not even members of the Fatui. Aether racked his brain for any other malicious groups he might’ve missed but came up empty. He’d gotten pretty good at spotting Abyssal beings in disguise and was pretty sure none of them were hidden Lectors or Heralds. “I’ve gone up against multiple gods and two Fatui Harbingers. Don’t you think I could escape too easily?”
“And yet, here you are, captured by a couple of nobodies,” the leader shot back. He was wearing a thick cloak with a hood that shrouded his face, but the voice was definitely male.
Paimon rattled in the cage to Aether’s left. She’d been stunned into silence by the sheer audacity of being put in a birdcage, and was maliciously glaring at any eyes that would dare to meet hers. Finally, she decided to speak again. “Maybe we got bored! Maybe you’ve fallen into our trap!”
Ah, Paimon, ever the eloquent bluffer. There was no doubt about it, though, they had been thoroughly captured. Aether had several working escape plans but none of them seemed solid enough to act on. The bindings around his wrists were extremely interesting, thin wire that seemed to suppress his elemental affinities. The Traveler shifted in his seat, leaning back in fake confidence. “Why don’t you tell us why we’re here? Got any questions for me?”
“As a matter of fact,” the leader held out his hand and one of his goons placed a metal whip in his hands, “We do.”
“Well, go on then. Don’t keep me waiting.”
“What exactly is your goal?” sneered the leader.
“I’m looking for my sister.”
“Ha! Like we’d believe that.”
If Aether could’ve shrugged, he would’ve. Many people tend to think he was lying about that particular objective. “Doubt me all you like.”
The leader raised the whip. An idea sparked in Aether’s head, and he spoke before anything else could happen. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to face my secret weapon.”
Paimon looked at him with confusion, but wisely decided to keep quiet. The leader laughed. “Oh, enough with the lies! That’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“You remember what my companion said, don’t you? ‘Maybe you’ve fallen into our trap?’ I’d choose your next actions carefully.”
The leader faltered. It was fleeting, momentary, barely detectable, but Aether saw it. “I’ll get right to the point then. What will it take for you to stop overthrowing the government of every nation you step into?”
Aether found himself laughing before he could think about perceiving his unbothered attitude. That really was the case, wasn’t it? “Last I checked, the Knights of Favonius still have authority over Mondstadt.”
“Boss, can’t we shut him up? I’m tired of this,” one of the other cloaked captors finally spoke, throwing up their hands in exasperation.
“Soon. Answer the question.”
“Fine, fine. Well, I just want to find my sister. Once I do that, I might be so inclined to stop traveling.” Aether found no point in lying. He just chose to omit the detail of his sister’s allegiance to the Abyss, and her wish for Aether to complete his journey. These people didn’t need to know that.
“You know what, boys? I’m tired of his games too. Let’s get rid of him the old-fashioned way.” Every other person in the room pulled out an identical metal whip to the one the leader held, some of them cracking it apprehensively.
“You sure you want to do that?” Aether’s eyebrows raised.
“Oh, we’re sure. Bring out your ‘secret weapon’ if you wish.”
Aether glanced at Paimon, who whimpered nervously. “Last chance.”
No response.
“Three.”
“Two.”
The crack of the whip against his thighs almost drowned out the final word. “Xiao!”
For a moment, nothing happened. No one moved, not even Paimon. Aether bit back a pained yelp and tried to blink away the tears that leaned over the edges of his eyes. A quick glance downward revealed extensive damage, uncharacteristically severe for a weapon like a whip. His thighs harbored already festering gashes, both blood and his deeper Ichor soaking through his pants. Aether had to remind himself that these whips were made of metal as he felt his strength slowly slip away. Even so, they shouldn’t be able to reach his Ichor, the blood of gods and outlanders.
His attackers recovered before he did. Once they realized that his “secret weapon” was indeed a farce, malicious grins spread across their hooded faces. Aether couldn’t see their faces, of course, but the energy in their stances was enough to get that message across.
“He didn’t show up…” Paimon whined.
“It’s okay, Paimon. He will,” Aether managed through gritted teeth.
“Oh! He?” the leader snickered. “You think anyone would come and save you? You think the Conqueror of Demons would rush to your aid? Listen up, outlander. Adepti don’t care about anyone. They especially don’t care about you— what good have you ever done for them?”
Aether’s false superiority fell away like dirt in a landslide. “Shut up.”
“This is—“ the leader doubled over in a fit of laughter, causing his subordinates to awkwardly join in. “This is just perfect! The famous Traveler has a soft spot for the Vigilant Yaksha!” He cracked the whip against the headrest of the chair, the metal sinking into Aether’s shoulder before messily retracting. Fresh pain rolled over Aether. He fought to keep his bottled emotions at bay.
More words were spoken, at least, that’s what Aether thought. He couldn’t hear them. Whip after whip laced his body, it was all he could do to keep himself conscious. Xiao hadn’t answered his call. That had never happened before. The fog that passed over Aether’s eyes, ears, and eventually his mind was unlike any he’d ever experienced. His one fail-safe, the one reason for his confidence, the only thing he trusted most in this world— broken. Gone. Maybe Xiao didn’t care about him… Maybe this world was just like all the others. Using him for its own gain, feigning connections, then discarding them as soon as he was deemed unnecessary.
More golden Ichor flowed from his wounds, mixing with his blood. The colors never combined. It was a river of red and gold, until every last shred of power he possessed was drained. Powerless. Betrayed. Dramatic. Aether almost laughed at the irony. He reminded himself of a certain fallen Harbinger…
Just as Aether was about to teeter over the edge of consciousness, a pleasant wind stirred around his ankles. Funny, how he could feel the air shifting around his feet, but not the gashes that littered them. Aether forced himself to raise his head.
In a flash of Anemo miasma, the Conqueror of Demons burst into existence. He’d arrived with his back to Aether, his mask in one hand and his spear in the other. A collective gasp rippled though the room. The Yaksha cast his gaze over his shoulder and met eyes with Aether.
“You ca—“ The words died in Xiao’s throat. Stunning the Vigilant Yaksha himself into silence, now that was a feat. Aether must have looked terrible. Xiao turned towards his kidnappers and donned his mask without another word. Aether wished he were conscious enough to witness the absolute decimation that could be caused by an angry Adeptus, but alas, Xiao moved too fast for his blood-deprived brain. Cloaked bodies littered the floor in quite literally the blink of an eye.
Paimon had been freed from her cage and was now flying in anxious circles around the pair. Xiao sliced away Aether’s bonds and knelt before him, uneasy fingers fluttering over his various wounds.
“Why is his blood gold? What did those guys do to him?” Paimon wailed.
“Ichor. Blood of outlanders and immortals,” Xiao answered helpfully, easing his arms around Aether’s unscathed back. The plus side about being tortured while sitting in a chair is that the back is completely unharmed.
Aether giggled, probably thanks to his low blood pressure. The delirium quickly turned to tears, stinging the gashes on his face. Xiao’s was carrying him bridal-style now, faces inches from each other. Aether sobbed into the Yaksha’s shoulder. “You came.”
“Of course I did. I made a promise.”
“But you were late!” shrieked Paimon, loud enough to make Aether flinch, “And Aether got all cut up… Paimon was so scared!”
“He will recover.”
“That’s not the point!”
Paimon continued to rant nonsensically, but Aether stopped listening. He tried to hold back his tears, but they just kept flowing, and flowing, and flowing. Xiao finally met his gaze, the first time he’d done so since first arriving. There was something so personal, so deeply hidden in Xiao’s expression, the way his eyebrows knit together, the way his jaw clenched at the effort of restraint, the fear in how tightly he held Aether. He looked like he was the one currently bleeding out, not Aether.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” responded Aether. His voice came out raw and crackly, but he didn’t care.
Paimon sighed exasperatingly. “Stop staring at each other like that! Let’s get out of here!”
Xiao quickly looked away. Without checking to make sure Paimon had grabbed onto his shoulder, he vanished the three of them in a burst of Anemo, away from danger, away from mistakes.