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“Are you quite alright, Xiao?”
Xiao snaps his head toward his Lord. “Of course. I apologize for—”
Morax raises a hand to silence him. “It is of no bother to me. As I was saying, I believe the next order of business is stationing you at the northern borders to exterminate the hostile…”
They continue like that, walking leisurely along the northward path from Liyue Harbor, toward the recently established Wangshu Inn. Morax is in the middle of describing the details of the contract he plans on drawing up with the owners of the Inn regarding Xiao’s permanent station when a leaf floats through the air, an emerald streak in an otherwise golden-yellow landscape. It lands upon the ochre of Morax’s shoulder.
There’s no trees with leaves that look like that for at least 500 meters, Xiao knows, and it sets off an alarm bell ringing in the back of his head, hackles raising immediately.
The only response it receives from Morax is a pause in his step followed by a disgruntled, “Oh.”
Without any further warning, the two Adepti are surrounded by a whirlwind of pure anemo energy, cool and cutting. It lasts only a second, and then the air settles around them once more.
In front of them, only a few paces away, a…
Bard.
Clearly from a foreign land, the bard is dressed in ostentatious green from head to toe, in a shade startlingly similar to the leaf that landed on Morax’s shoulder only moments ago. It’s impressive how bright the shade is, considering Xiao can see it even under the absolute filth covering his whole body. Deep brown mud scattered in splotches over most of the ridiculous cape at his back, a deep purple ichor dripping down his stockings, some sort of red-black dust caked in his hair.
In Xiao’s experience, this means he’s probably injured beneath all that mess. It’s impossible to tell from here, but something crawls under Xiao’s skin at the sight of him.
Him—this bard. Something else about him makes Xiao’s skin tingle. A misplaced sense of familiarity, a gentle simmer in his gut.
Regardless of his appearance, the bard seems… cheery. Grinning widely, bubbling with an energy that has him bouncing on the balls of his feet. Morax, however, immediately sours upon laying eyes on the mysterious visitor.
There’s an aura of tension emanating from his Lordship that makes Xiao straighten his back, reach toward his side for his weapon. Before Xiao has fully assessed the stranger for signs of danger, Morax lets out a heavy sigh.
“It is a…” Morax pauses. “... pleasure to see you as always, Barbatos.”
Xiao freezes.
Barbatos.
This bard, looking as if a street performer has been dragged through a livestock enclosure, is the Anemo Archon.
Barbatos—because it all makes sense, the flurry of powerful anemo energy in the middle of a nation that is heavily protected by immortal beings and Morax’s countless alarms deep below the earthen stone could only be the doing of a god—opens his mouth to say something, the sparkle in his eye outshining the ring of grime beneath his brow, but Morax cuts him off.
Far harsher than he had Xiao, before their conversation had been interrupted by the foreign god himself.
“You are not proper company in your current state,” Morax bites out with all the harshness of the Warrior God that Xiao has known him to be. “You should make yourself presentable before speaking to the leader of a nation, especially one with whom you are on tenuous terms .”
Once again, the bard opens his mouth to respond, but Morax quickly supplies, “There is a nearby river where you can… cleanse yourself.”
Barbatos’s mouth tugs into a small frown, his lower lip pushed out slightly— pouting. Xiao has admittedly not heard many positive things about the Mondstadt Archon, what with Morax’s tense relationship with him. But he’s heard about how his power was enough to take down the tyrannical god of storms that had been terrorizing the people of Mond.
And he is here, in the middle of Bishui Plains, pouting.
“That’s not very nice, you know.” Barbatos crosses his arms over his chest, the half-dry mud on his sleeves audibly crack ing with the movement. “The least you could do is display the smallest amount of hospitality. I am a guest!”
"An uninvited, disgusting guest. I—"
Morax stops himself mid-sentence, a small crinkle forming between his eyebrows. Xiao feels it, too—a call from Mountain Shaper.
Urgent.
Morax’s face morphs into a collected calm, cool and stony. “I must go,” he says with all the smooth monotony of a leader forced into action.
Cor lapis eyes shift to Xiao. Immediately, Xiao falls to one knee. “I will assist Mountain Shape—”
“No need, Xiao. I will go.” He crosses his arms, takes a deep breath. His eyes slip shut. “I leave Barbatos in your care. There is a spring nearby that should suffice for him to… regain his composure.”
The Anemo Archon sticks his bottom lip out impossibly further. “I’m a god. I don’t need a babysitter!”
Morax levels Barbatos with his molten stare this time. “You would do well to be grateful for the watchful eye of my most Vigilant Yaksha.” It’s strange, the way that Morax seems to be holding something back—normally he’s not one for withholding anything for the sake of others’ feelings, and it makes the hairs on the back of Xiao’s neck prickle.
Before he can voice his concerns, Morax is gone.
A tinkling laugh spills out of Barbatos, light and airy and nothing like the heavy, dark mud that clings to every external surface of his person. “Well then, O Vigilant Yaksha. Lead the way!”
~~
Which is how Xiao finds himself walking half a pace behind the Anemo Archon along a foot-beaten path that bisects Dihua Marsh.
“Hey, Vigilant Yaksha. You don’t have to walk behind me, y’know.” Barbatos laughs, and it’s as light as the air that swirls under the glass of Xiao’s Vision. “I don’t subscribe to all those stuffy rules about respect like that old dragon does.” To prove his point, Venti slows his pace down so he falls perfectly beside Xiao.
It’s all Xiao can do to grunt. Who is he to defend the honour of his Lord to an Archon of an allied nation?
He allows himself to continue walking in line with Barbatos, if only because he wouldn’t allow Xiao to fall behind for more than half a second.
“So…” Barbatos says, filling the calm silence between them with something larger, something so full that makes Xiao’s fingers twitch. “The weather in Liyue is really hot, huh?”
Xiao nods. Adepti do not concern themselves with the weather, but he has heard that humans often speak of such matters.
“Hm. But the food is good at least! Especially at that place near here—Wangshu, right?”
A shrug this time. Food means little to him—he does not require physical sustenance.
“Well, ah, Morax is… a good master, I hope. He’s too straight-laced for me, but whatever works, right?” Barbatos lifts his hands behind his head as he walks, elbow brushing soclose to Xiao’s ear. “His people love him, so it has to count for something.”
What is Xiao supposed to say to that? Any deed Morax has done—no matter how monumental for a lowly being such as a Yaksha—would be nothing more than an afternoon’s work for another Archon. So he says nothing. Walks forward, silently.
Barbatos clicks his tongue. “Do you like music? You seem like the musical type, Vigilant Yaksha.”
Music.
In the centuries since the Archon War, Xiao has had little time for pleasantries. To say that he misses it is not an admission he would readily make, but…
“Ooh, that seems to pique your interest at least!” Barbatos chuckles and lowers his arms so his hands are clasped behind his back. His steps become lighter, livelier. Bouncier.
And then he starts humming.
It’s a strange tune, one that doesn’t quite match his sunny demeanor. It has an air of melancholy, but it’s tinged with an undertone of something more, something like…
Healing.
It’s familiar, and that same simmer bubbles in his gut. The one that tells him he knows what this is. But he can’t put his finger on it.
Regardless of the nearly mournful song, Barbatos continues along the path with a step so energetic it’s basically skipping.
The pond isn’t far, not really, but it’s far enough that a quiet restlessness tingles under his skin as Barbatos continues quietly making a musical accompaniment to their jaunt. It’s strange, how different he is from Morax.
Obviously Xiao does not know Barbatos, but Morax would never whistle while covered in enough mud to craft an entire earthenware set. Morax wouldn’t giggle and twirl a braid as he speaks, wouldn’t speak so flippantly to a fellow warrior who is known for retched bloodshed.
Barbatos, however, is everything Morax is not. There is power, of course—even Xiao can feel it, underneath the innocent facade—but the stark difference between how the Geo and Anemo Archons hold themselves… it’s as contrasting as these elements themselves.
Xiao finds himself… not hating it.
~~
The sun begins to dip below the horizon as the pair steps into the vicinity of the pond Morax directed them to. Golden light bounces off the surface of the waters, bathes the lotus flowers in an orangey glow. The water is still, almost unnaturally so. Only the slightest of winds rustles the flaxen leaves of a nearby tree.
Xiao nods, crossing his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. “Will this suffice for—”
He cuts himself off as Barbatos unceremoniously unties his cape and flings it to the ground, only a meter or so away from the edge of the pond.
The corset follows almost immediately. “It’s perfect! I almost feel bad for the amount of ick I’m about to taint these waters with.” Barbatos giggles without an ounce of remorse in his tone. He begins to unbutton his once-white shirt with deft fingers.
Xiao feels heat rise to his cheeks as soon as he catches a glimpse of Barbatos’s collarbone. He clears his throat awkwardly and turns away from Barbatos to give him some privacy while he continues to undress. “I’ll wait over there,” he mumbles, pointing half-heartedly at a rock large enough for Xiao to perch.
“So gentlemanly,” Barbatos says, voice exaggeratedly dramatic—as if he were a swooning damsel in a light novel rather than the divine protector of a nation. “Preserving my modesty, are you, Vigilant Yaksha?”
“Gentlemanly,” Xiao spits. He clenches his jaw, remembers that he is talking to a god. “You will be displeased to learn I am the furthest thing.”
The rustling of clothes stops for a brief moment. Xiao does not turn to face Barbatos, and after only a few seconds the sounds return. Though he isn’t the most in-tune with emotions, the atmosphere feels stilted. Not quite awkward, but… empty.
Empty in a way that is at odds with Barbatos’s presence.
A sound so quiet humans couldn’t hear it, a silky whisper hardly heard above the soft swishing of the grass in the gentle evening breeze. It alerts Xiao that it’s acceptable to turn around—so he can watch his charge. Keep him safe.
(Nothing else.)
So he does.
Xiao—ever cold, stern-faced Xiao—feels his breath hitch in his throat at the sight.
Barbatos has his back turned to Xiao, the skin of his bare back as smooth as the finest porcelain in Morax’s collection. In the orange-warm rays of the quickly setting sun, his pale skin nearly glows, a perfect backdrop for the tumbling waves of teal-blue hair spilling over his shoulders.
Because Barbatos has let his hair down, freed from his typical twin braids.
Like this, Barbatos looks every bit the god Xiao has imagined him.
Though it has been nary a second since Barbatos stepped into the water, already most of the mud is gone from his form. Xiao can clearly see the rounded curve of his jaw, the luminescence of the tips of his hair. And when he turns his head ever so slightly, the newly visible rosy flush of his cheeks that couldn’t peek through all the grime sends a heatwave crawling up Xiao’s neck.
Xiao stares. Stares, stares, stares.
Barbatos must catch him from the corner of his eye, because he giggles, and it’s clear and ringing like pure silver bells, and then he turns his body around to face Xiao properly—
Water droplets cling to the tip of his chin, the highest point of his cheekbones, the edges of his lashes. The tiniest of smiles dances across his lips, serene.
Something inside Xiao breaks. Bursts like a dam pushed past full capacity, sticky warmth spilling somewhere deep inside his ribcage.
It feels almost like the karmic debt that has been building, except it doesn’t weigh him down.
It makes him want to fly.
He feels his own eyes widen as he continues to stare, stare, stare, thoroughly captivated, unable to tear his gaze away.
“So much for those gentlemanly ways.” Another bubbly giggle. “I’ve heard of a new invention in Fontaine that records images like real-life paintings to keep forever. Maybe you should invest in one so you can take a picture! It’ll last you longer, ehe.”
Xiao feels his eyebrow twitch. “You have picked your current form to wear intentionally.”
Barbatos’s smile stretches into a grin. The golden hour sunlight reflects in his green-blue eyes, mischief sparkling within them. “Whatever could you possibly mean?”
“You did not have to pick such a…” Xiao swallows thickly, daring his eyes not to stray below the god’s face. “...striking form.”
The sound Barbatos lets out could perhaps be considered a laugh, though it’s far less refined than any of the giggles Xiao has heard all afternoon—it falls somewhere between an exasperated guffaw and a snort.
Xiao blinks wordlessly at him.
“Aha,” Barbatos chuckles airily, regaining some composure. He clears his throat and pushes his shoulders back. The water pooling around his hips ripples with the movements, drawing Xiao’s attention lower. By the time he looks back up, Barbatos has once again dawned his brilliant grin.
A barely-there flush dusts his shoulders. It wasn’t there before.
“You never mince your words, do you?” Barbatos asks, voice thick.
“Tch,” Xiao scoffs. “Mincing words is a waste of time.”
Barbatos laughs, full and all-encompassing. “I appreciate the honesty, Xiao.”
Xiao nods, leaning back against the rock behind him. Barbatos returns to scrubbing away left over clumps of dirt in his hair, humming the same tune he had been on their walk over to the pond.
And then it hits him—
Barbatos called him by his name, called him Xiao.
~~
It isn’t the last time Xiao escorts Barbatos to a nearby body of water to wash off whatever grime has somehow caked into his clothes, onto his skin, in his hair.
At first, the visits happen only because Morax calls for Xiao from somewhere halfway across Liyue. Xiao, of course, immediately goes and lands face-to-face with none other than Barbatos himself. It happens once, twice, four times, and then Morax tells Barbatos where Xiao has taken up residence.
So, of course, the Archon shows up at his doorstep at all hours of the day, covered head-to-toe in mysterious muck. Xiao dutifully leads him to a nearby pond, lake, or spring every time.
One day, months into their strange encounters, Xiao asks Barbatos if the waters of Mondstadt are inadequate for him to bathe in.
Barbatos laughs, shakes his head. “Don’t you enjoy these escort missions, Vigilant Yaksha? Is my company so undesirable?”
Xiao scowls down at his shoes as they walk along a dirt path. “These excursions are a reprieve from my duties to Liyue. They are more than I deserve.”
“Hey, hey, hey, hey now.” Barbatos stops in his tracks, grabs Xiao’s sleeve. He steps in front of Xiao, looking incredibly put out. “You do deserve a break. Morax and I might not be best friends or anything, but I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t want you running yourself into the ground. And he especially wouldn’t want you to talk down on yourself like you are.”
Barbatos crosses his arms across his chest. “Besides, I don’t want you to talk down on yourself like that. Join me tonight, okay? I’ll wash up and then we’ll have some fun. Just fun. In the morning, you can get back to protecting Liyue.”
“...Fun.” Xiao breathes deeply. “You wish to have fun. With me?”
“Is it so hard to believe?” Barbatos’s face splits into a grin. “It’s no coincidence I keep coming back to hang out with you, y’know. Anyway, a little dragon told me you like dancing! I’m a little offended you never told me.”
A tiny inkling of guilt nestles itself in Xiao’s gut. He certainly didn’t mean to hide it from Barbatos, but it isn’t something Xiao thinks others would want to know.
“I can see the idea growing on you already!” Barbatos giggles. He reaches for Xiao’s arm, pulling him along the path to their destination of a nearby spring. Xiao stumbles after him, gathering himself as quickly as he can. “I know a place near here that has the perfect acoustics. I’ll play you some music and then you can dance all you want!”
“You’re getting mud on my robes,” Xiao grumbles as he lets himself get pulled along by Barbatos. “...Although that does sound… pleasant.”
Barbatos—the Anemo Archon, the god of freedom and wind and music and wine—turns his head to look at Xiao over his shoulder. The smile he sends Xiao is bright—blinding, here in the middle of Dihua Marsh, where the sun has fallen below the horizon and the moon hangs low in the sky.
“I’m glad I met you, Xiao.”
Xiao feels like he’s going to float away.
“I…” Xiao swallows thickly. “I’m honoured to share your acquaintance as well, Barbatos.”