Chapter Text
He never asked to be a hero.
He didn’t ask to be discarded, either; nor did he ask to hold a dead child in his arms.
What he has asked for has been simple. To be left alone. To travel the world in obscurity, and therefore, peace. To become a god and exert his will over the world and, therefore, receive recognition from his mother everyone.
He’s never asked for much.
All he asked for in the day prior to being transported into a fake-yet-based-on-reality-toy-land was a quick and easy read to occupy his mind in the dull hours of night during his travel between Sumeru and Natlan. And yet, here he is, a newly crowned hero—a title he never asked for—with a dragon for a friend.
Fate has a strange sense of humor, it seems. He would know—he was unintentionally privy to some of the conversations between the Goddesses of this world. It was shaped by their whimsy.
He detects a similar vein of humor in the Traveler’s eyes as yet another group of their friends—seriously, they know too many people—approaches. And like all the Traveler’s friends, they are much too keen on accosting him despite the carefully crafted aura he’s coined as leave me the hell alone .
“Osvaldo Hrafnavins… Dost thou see what I am seeing? Tell me that my Auge der Verurteilung deceiveth me not!”
The voice rings like a bell in a church long since abandoned, awakening ghosts best left laid to rest. His eyes stray to the young woman and her midnight purple raven accompanying her despite the overwhelming urge to fly into the cotton candy sunset. It’s a moment he’s been both dreading and anticipating—but mostly dreading. It’s been easy enough to avoid the Harbingers, while regular Fatui grunts would at most remember his former title rather than his person. Other than the Traveler, there are scarce few individuals left alive who may remember his former self, and thus, have reason to hate him. Most of them reside on Inazuma, blissfully isolated.
Two others remain on the mainland, and now one stands before him.
“Your eyes see true, Mein Fräulein.”
His throat feels dry, but then he’s never felt true thirst. Her lone green eye settled on him in something like victory, and he’s left wondering if this is his moment of reckoning.
Then, she speaks. “Very well. Then, as ruler of the Immernachtreich, I extend to you both my greetings, O Night Dragon from the Land of the Thousand Stars, and his hat-wearing servant.”
It’s so absurd and so completely not what he was expecting that the response slips out of him before he can think better of engaging. “Who did you just call a servant?”
“What Mein Fräulein means to say is, Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you."
The statement hangs in the air, the breath stolen from his lungs like his Anemo vision allows him to take from opponents. It should be relief that he feels, at this confirmation that the strange woman from those many months ago has indeed forgotten their true first encounter, that his reckless gamble with the Irminsul has paid off.
Instead, his shoulders slump slightly. He is now Hat Guy to her, and that’s all he ever will be.
It’s exactly what he asked for.
Further introductions are made between him and the young elf-girl named Klee, and her big brother, Albedo. The alchemist, at least, appears normal and kind, which he appreciates greatly while also making him all the more suspicious for being so normal. Such types either die or are the ones to kill you.
He doesn’t linger on this thought and the unpleasant memories that threaten to surface, mostly because Albedo says something even more absurd than Fischl could hope to orate.
“When the time comes, Mr. Hat Guy, will you and Simulanka’s Durin be willing to lend us a hand in our hour of need?”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“You saved the Durin of this world. I don’t see that as a mere coincidence. If there is any meaning to be read into the actions of the three Goddesses beyond mere fairy tail whimsy alone, I can only boldly speculate that the fate of this reflected world may have a reciprocal effect upon our own world.”
He supposes fate is laughing at him verily, caught up as he now is in its omnipotent web. That he had once scorned such esoteric ideas, even erased himself from existence in order to defy it.
“If Durin of Dragonspine will soon come back to life, we will need Mini Durin’s help,” Albedo continues, “as well as yours, given that your fates are now intertwined.”
And now he’s played right into its hands.
“Well that’s a nuisance.”
“To be sure. It certainly won’t be easy. Please give my suggestion some thought, Mr. Hat Guy.”
This prophecy weighs heavy on him all the way on the paper-boat ride he and Mini Durin take up into the sky. Mainly because the small dragon hovering beside him is indisputable truth that destiny is predetermined and, consequently, predictable. He wonders at the course his fate is written to take as he stares at the sky. A false sky, one might say, yet it controlled the lives of every being in Simulanka.
Then that means the sky in Teyvat—
“Excuse me, ferry-man! May I catch a ride, please?”
He might’ve rolled his eyes and sneered, had not the tone of that voice struck something deep and true within him. He is almost afraid to turn and see the figure attached to said voice, but he stopped feeling fear for himself when he faced the end of his existence. Instead it is dread and apprehension, a strain far worse than what afflicted him with Fischl. That young woman, for all her strange and incomprehensible words, is just another person (ignoring the talking raven).
She, however, is no ordinary person. There are scarce few individuals left alive who may remember his former self, and thus, have reason to hate him. Most of them reside on Inazuma, blissfully isolated, and Fischl has clearly forgotten.
She should not know who he is, but the mage has powers that reveal to her things unseen.
If anyone can tear apart the new life he fought and died for, if anyone can unravel the threads of fate that bind him, it is her.
And now she stands before him.
She takes one step forward, a golden heel sinking into the lush green grass, and the boat slows as if drawn to her by magic. Or perhaps it's fate that charts the course, and of course it would lead to her. She is a mage like the ones who created this world, after all. What chance does his will, as the hero, stand against a creator?
The mage takes another step, then two, three more. The paper-boat comes to a complete stop by the ledge she stands upon. He has no time to think about what to do or say or how to escape before she is next to him, head tilting up to peer at him from below the brim of her hat.
He lowers his head, takes the coward’s way out and hides his face.
“Thank you, kind sir. I don’t suppose this boat will take us out of this world, will it?”
She hasn’t stepped onto the boat yet. He has to remind himself to pretend to breathe.
“Wow, how’d you guess that?” Mini Durin speaks up.
“Well, there can only be one dragon in the Simulanka, so that must be you. And this man very clearly is not of this world. He must be from Teyvat, like me.”
“Y-You know me?” The dragon squeaks. “You’re not afraid of me?”
His body stills, pulled taut by invisible strings.
“Why should I be?” The mage responds frankly. “You apologized to those you hurt, didn’t you? And you gave them gifts to show your sincerity and good will.”
“Yeah, I did! And they seemed to like that. And now I’ve made lots of friends, like Hat Guy here!”
“That’s proof enough for me that you’re a good dragon,” she says, then steps onto the boat, mere inches from him. He still hasn’t looked at her. If he moves, it may be to jump overboard, and he promised to show this dragon around Teyvat.
“Thank you, Miss Mage! I’m Mini Durin, would you like to be our friend?”
“I’m astrologist Mona Megistus, but you may call me Mona. And I’m happy to be your friend.” Her golden heels enter his field of vision trained on the origami floor, coming to stand in front of him. “And you, Hat Guy, the ferryman?”
“He’s not a ferryman, he’s the hero who saved me!” Mini Durin chirps, his wings beating excitedly.
“I’m no hero.” They’re the first words out of his mouth and it feels like the exact wrong thing to say. He’s never been good at figuring out what is right. “I was just helping him out.”
“Saving a dragon from a dark fate and freeing a whole land of people is no small deed,” says Mona. “You sound like a hero to me.”
Her words could have a double meaning; he of all people knows how to lace cunning behind them. But her eyes, he remembers, were bright and expressive. In his memory they were fierce, sharp, intent on cutting him and his ego down to size. The eyes that saw him for what he was in a singular glance. Looking into them now is like stepping back into that abyss beyond the Irminsul, but as Nahida reminded him, he is particularly adept at navigating those uncertain waters.
He lifts his head and Mona Megistus is staring back at him.
“Call me whatever you want, it makes no difference to me,” he lies, just as he did before. “I did what I needed to do, nothing more, nothing less.”
Her eyes flicker briefly to his newfound dragon companion. “Is this also something you need to do?”
“I made a promise,” is all he supplies.
“He’s going to show me Teyvat! Do you want to come along, Mona?” Mini Durin asks, all innocence and earnestness that makes his chest ache. It elicits a smile from the mage, the first one he’s ever seen from her.
“I have to return to my home in Mondstadt, but if you two are planning to make a stop there, I’d be happy to show you around.”
Mini Durin brightens and flips in the air in joy, then careens over to hover in his face, the dragon’s large eyes beseeching him. “Can we stop in Mondstadt, Hat Guy? Can we please?”
He does not dare look at Mona and would never admit it’s out of fear of what her expression may show. This is between him and Mini Durin, he rationalizes, and his decision is not at all influenced by the heavy gaze of the mage trained on him like a tangible weight.
A short sigh blows past his lips. “Sure, whatever. Those other friends of yours live in Mondstadt anyway.”
“Yay! Thank you, thank you!” The excitement sends the dragon in loop-de-loops above them, chirping on about the start of his adventures. The Durin begins to set sail once more, driven by the trio’s desire to embark to the Land of Freedom.
Mona addresses him again, but he keeps his sight trained on his flying companion. “I assume you met Albedo, Klee, and Fischl.”
He shrugs. “They’re friends of the Traveler’s.”
“They’re my closest friends as well. You and Mini Durin are now part of that circle. Mondstadt is a friendly place, you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”
“Even when they learn about his past and what he did to its people?”
Mona hums thoughtfully. “Mondstadt has known peace for many years now, thanks to its loyal protectors. If visitors pose no threat, there is no reason for alarm.
“Especially if this version is not directly responsible for harms caused in the past.”
He stiffens, eyes narrowing on her, but Mona’s gaze is trained on the distant horizon.
“All he wants is to see and enjoy the world.”
“I want that for him, too.”
They lapse into silence. He’s not sure how to categorize it. Companionable seems too friendly a description, but neither is it awkward or tense. Content, perhaps. Understanding feels like too hopeful and dangerous of a thing. He doesn’t have much time to overthink it anyway before Mini Durin returns to them and starts to throw question after question about Mondstadt at Mona, which she answers with grace and patience. This is probably nothing she isn’t used to, if her closest friends include the equally excitable Klee and Fischl as she said.
As The Durin sails into the horizon, the sky begins to shimmer. A whisper of gentle rain passes over, though it leaves no water on them. He blinks, and suddenly instead of the block-like castle and town in the distance, a cathedral rises like a beacon, the open hands of the Anemo Archon guiding them into the city.
“Wow,” Mini Durin breathes out. “Is that Mondstadt?”
Mona nods. “The capital city.”
His eyes have strayed to Mona yet again as the dragon speaks, wings curling in on itself. “I hope they like me.”
This time, he has no scorn for the creature’s worries. Dandelion-scented wind blows past them as The Durin descends onto Cider Lake, close to the shore. Mona’s hair dances in its wake, the golden ornaments decorating her person glittering in the fading sunlight. Her eyes glow like the dawning moon.
“Yeah,” he says, words swallowed by the wind, “me too.”
Despite being a magical boat of origami origin, it lands like a feather upon the lake’s surface, and the three disembark near the bridge that leads to the city’s gates. Mini Durin is enchanted by the pastoral scenery of rolling hills and verdant green fields. It’s much harder for him to maintain an air of exasperation than he’s willing to admit; the dragon is quick to endear. Each plant and wildlife creature they pass elicits gasps of awe. It’s a wonder they even make it to Mondstadt's gates with how easily Mini Durin gets sidetracked by anything that moves.
“They look like the animals in Simulanka!” He exclaims. “But they’re different.”
Mona chuckles, not unkindly. “Wait until you meet the people.”
Wanderer is similarly distracted, but not by the scenery. He keeps his head low and face obscured, his eyes never leaving Mona’s figure for long. She’s been frustratingly hard to read thus far. The mage has given no indication that she recognized or remembered him as Scaramouche, the Sixth Fatui Harbinger who insulted her and tried to kill the Traveler. Certainly, if she had, she wouldn’t be welcoming him into her city.
And yet she didn’t quite treat him like a stranger, either. The introductions between them were too polite and straightforward, an obligation rather than a necessity. Someone going through the motions of something they already know the answer to, or perhaps read about in the stars.
Or maybe he is vastly overthinking everything. Mona Megistus has that annoying trait of moving through the world with such confidence and ease that, as a wanderer with precious few ties or direction, makes him second guess himself.
Or, maybe, it is wishful thinking. Maybe, just maybe, he wants Mona to remember him.
He thankfully doesn’t have time to further interrogate that line of thought as they are waved through the city’s main gates by two Knights of Favonius. To their credit, the knights only give Mini Durin a passing second glance before shrugging and resuming their watch duties. He supposes that after the Traveler and their flying, talking companion, not much surprises the people of Mondstadt anymore.
Mona leads them up the stairs that cut through the city center, shops and taverns flanking them on either side. She gestures to one restaurant on the top left, a scattering of tables and chairs on the landing’s balcony overlooking the central fountain where people mill about in the midday sun. It is so mundane and normal, just another ordinary day, that it further exacerbates this feeling of being out of place.
An outlier. A lie itself. An intruder.
He is blatantly staring at Mona now but he’s nearly past the point of caring or trying to be subtle. If he had a heart, it would be beating out of his chest. He imagines his palms would be sweating. As it is, his fingers twitch and squeeze his biceps, arms tightening around his torso. Mini Durin shares none of his anxiety, swooping around their table and watching Mona approach the counter to order their food. The only thing to momentarily subside his excitement is learning that the birds here do not speak like those in Simulanka, but he is not dismayed for long.
He, on the other hand, is wound up so tight that when Mona returns to their table with a plate of salad in one hand and chicken in the other, he nearly snaps when she asks, “Would you like water, or some other drink?”
“Why are you doing all this?”
His voice is sharp and curt, but low enough that Mini Durin doesn’t catch it. Mona doesn’t even blink. She turns to the dragon and says, “Did you know people toss coins into that fountain over there to make wishes? If you can count how many there are, your wish will surely come true. Why don’t you try it?” She hands Mini Durin a mora, and he takes it and flaps over to the fountain, hovering close to the water as he begins to count out loud.
With their companion suitably distracted, Mona sits down before addressing him.
“You are my guests in the city. I am being a good, hospitable host.” She picks up her fork and knife and cuts into the chicken.
He will not be fooled. “Is that all? You hardly know us.”
“So allow me to get to know you.” Her eyes meet his as she takes a bite and chews.
Distantly he is aware of how absurd this conversation is, how unjustly hostile he is coming across as. Mona is still acting as any normal person would. After all, didn’t the citizens of Sumeru react similarly when meeting him in the Akademiya and the tournament? People are, usually, when not weighed down by centuries of betrayal and regret and murder, decent and kind, happy to meet others and learn more about each other.
It is exactly the kind of privilege he was hardly afforded before, and that he still feels he now does not deserve. Especially not from her. It is… unearned.
“This troubles you,” she says, shattering his thoughts. A statement, not a question.
He evades this. “I just don’t want anyone to hurt Mini Durin.”
Mona raises an eyebrow and doesn’t even glance at the dragon as she responds. “He hardly seems in danger of being the object of scorn.”
“Maybe I’m just not hungry.”
“That’s a shame. This is my favorite salad.” To demonstrate, Mona reaches forward and spears a portion of lettuce and tomato from the plate. “You know, this act of being stand-offish and defensive won’t work in Mondstadt. People are too friendly and inquisitive for their own good. And if this is truly all for Mini Durin, then might I suggest trying a little harder, if only for his sake?”
He has no response for her. He doesn’t know what to say, but Mona says it for him anyway.
“But you should do so for yourself as well. Mondstadt is the Land of Freedom, and people are fiercely protective of it. They fight for it, and will fight for you as well, if you let them.”
His eyes snap to hers, and he has the distinct feeling that Mona can see right through him, past his rebirth from the Irminsul, to the dark, dirty past he tried so hard to wash himself clean of, all the way to when he first opened his eyes to an empty chamber.
“I’ve done nothing to earn that from them.”
Mona cocks her head to the side. “Does it need to be earned?”
“I don’t see how loyalty and kindness like that could be freely given. Not without something in return.”
She shrugs, as if this is all simple and easy, and maybe it is for someone like her. Someone he is very much not.
“Then return it in kind.” She smiles for the second time. His eyes trace the curve of her lips, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges. “Next time, the meal is on you.”
Miraculously, this draws a chuckle from him. It surprises them both. Mona pauses her meal, fork hovering halfway to her mouth as she stares at him. He has to look away from her gaze. What he may see there is too much.
“Besides,” she continues smoothly. “I’ve always been fond of second chances.”
He never needed to ask it of her.