Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    Barbatos narrowed his eyes as he drew his illustrations. The paper he drew on was bigger than what humans would ever need, so it had been a bit hard to get his hands on this one. He could not waste it. He had already drawn the borders of Mondstadt and was working on what was going to be inside it now that it was time to rebuild the nation. 

    “Barbatos,” Dvalin said from behind him. “It is quite possible that Decarabian and Andrius have already wasted whatever fertility the lands have left… Perhaps we should plan for an economy based on animals rather than plants.”

    “Do you expect a wind elf to suddenly endorse animal products? I couldn’t tell you the difference between an animal’s shoulders and ribs, let alone try to differentiate the species and note their preferred environments!” Barbatos shot back defensively. “Celestia and the other archons already think I’m a joke just because of my race. I need to prove to them that I am not Mondstadt’s weak link. The only way to do that is to do it my own way.”

    “It is true but… Barbatos, your... strength is not what it used to be.” Dvalin tried to soften his voice. He was well aware he was stepping on an open wound. “Mondstadt would prefer for you to learn of animal products than for you to push and, potentially, harm yourself.”

    “... Are you calling me infertile?”

    “Of course not! I am simply saying that you have not healed yet! Please do not misunderstand me, Barbatos. I am simply saying that these plans can wait until you have gathered up more strength.”

    “And allow my nation to be the laughingstock of the century?”

    “A laughingstock is better than an orphan!”

    The silence between the master and servant was deafening. It was true that Barbatos and Dvalin acted as friends and equals, with Dvalin given the right to call his archon by name and criticise his decisions publicly, but these moments in which Barbatos’ unnaturally still figure brimmed with bloodlust served as a reminder that the equality between them was nothing more than a privilege the wind elf was willing to give. 

    “I apologise, my Lord,” Dvalin bowed his head deeply. “I have overstepped my boundaries. Please, allow me to rectify this grave sin. I shall…”

    “No,” Barbatos interrupted. His form was shaking, shifting from one to the next until it became an amalgamation of all the forms he had in his arsenal. “You are right. I think… I will head to Dragonspine. I can freely observe the behaviour of boars within that cage of ice.” He folded up the paper he had so meticulously bought with the last remaining properties of his first and only human friend as a way to make sure that the boy who had given up his life to create this new Mondstadt would have something to do with its creation. Once he was sure that the paper would remain safe in his pocket, he abandoned Dvalin, who was still bowing his head to him out of fear and guilt, to make his way to the mountain that had started it all. 

    The air always grew colder in Dragonspine. The cold here wasn’t created by mere gods, after all, so of course it would overpower Mondstadt’s climate. Barbatos smiled at the hilichurls who would stand still in his presence and bowed his head to them. Some returned the gesture, most didn’t. They were beginning to lose hope. He made his way to the Irminsul branch within the dead nation. 

    “Ulr, how is…” He stopped in his tracks. He had expected a Snowhide Lawachurl standing guard in front of the tree, yet he was not here. How curious. A bad feeling crawled under his skin and he made his way to the unguarded tree. He touched its bark, and only found more cold. “Oh.” He looked up at the nail. It was still intact, from what he could see. A problem with the roots of the ley lines, then. Dvalin had said, a few weeks ago, that it could be a possibility. 

    Fuck. 

    Barbatos let out an irritated growl. Even Dvalin doubted that he could make a few grass patches grow, how was he supposed to revitalise ley lines? 

    Fuck. 

    The hilichurls were becoming more incomprehensible as well. Barbatos had to spend more time with them, he had to be a constant so that his presence could serve as a reminder of their lives. Ulr was beginning to lose his speaking ability, he knew. 

    Fuck. 

    Mondstadt was starving and stagnant. The everlasting winter had made them forget agriculture, the stagnancy had made them forget hunting. Being left without a god who would spell out, word for word, exactly what they had to do was a reality so foreign to them that they had no idea how to handle it. They weren’t the brightest citizens, either; Decarabian’s fear of Celestia had made sure that the humans never learned how to use their minds under his rule.

    Fuck. 

    Barbatos was weak. His fertility was barely present, he was a wind elf that had been born to bear the duties of a scholar or a spy at most. The Gnosis inside of him hurt. He didn’t know anything about humans, they were never supposed to be his problem in the first place. His entire body hurt so much. And he was left all alone. 

    Fuck. 

    Barbatos took a deep breath, sat on the ice, leaned his back on the branch. He summoned a dry and flat stone to rest his paper on and resumed his illustrations. 

    No one to trust, no one to lean on, no one who would understand. He was all alone. That was fine. It would be fine. He would make it fine. 

    There was no other choice. 

Chapter Text

    “My darling little Ei had her first cake three years ago,” Makoto reported with a giant grin on her face. Well, as giant as the usually shy and reserved god could manage, anyways. “She was so pleased! Thank you for your kind gift, Egeria. You should have seen her face.” Egeria simply nodded in response. 

    “I hardly believe that someone’s reaction to a food is worthy of being mentioned in a meeting,” Rukkhedevata stated. 

    “Oh, yes, because the god who kept raving about her Aranara in the previous meeting knows exactly what is appropriate and what is not,” Makoto shot back. 

    “I will have you know that my Aranara hold a sharp wit most could not even dream of, and they look adorable when they accidentally explode their experiments.”

    “Umm… Shouldn’t they not do that?” Saleos responded nervously. 

    “No, no; they should! Explosions and passion are two sides of the same coin!” Xbalanque exclaimed. 

    “Passion and love are the two sides of the same coin,” Saleos argued. “Explosions don’t fit into that category! Well, unless the lovers are into it… But those Aranara aren’t making love!”

    “The scientific process is far closer to the process of making love than many dare assume,” Rukkhedeveta interjected. 

    “What? Of course humans drive forward the idea that falling in love may be explained by science but the mere thought of it is absurd to me! Where is the sacred nature of it? Where is the mystery? You lot are taking all the fun out of love!”

    Egeria, who had been silent throughout the debate, finally seemed to reach a conclusion. “Yes, I think I agree with the idea that love is a process of science.”

    With that verdict from the God of Courts, the table devolved into chaos. The five archons began to cherry pick arguments from other sides to try to prove their own points, which became more nonsensical the more they dug in their heels and defended them. 

    “So, Morax,” Venti started as he looked sideways at the archon seated at the head of the table as the host of the meeting. He had mentioned to Morax that the table they were seated at should be a circle, thus subconsciously stating that all archons were equal, but Morax had dug in his heels and made the table even more angular. Venti hadn’t even known that was possible, yet here they were seated. Morax put down his brush and looked sideways to him. “What is your enlightened opinion on this matter?”

    “Does it matter? This debate is getting more and more incomprehensible by the second.”

    “Are you not the distinguished, older gentleman among us all? Why not impart some of your old man wisdom to the youngest at the table?” As if Venti was going to let this golden opportunity go. Morax’s opinions on love would also get him some insights to his love language, then he could use that knowledge to tease the shit out of the so-called king of the gods. Besides, there were numerous experiments he could conduct with such knowledge…

    “As far as I see it, Mondstadt is the nation of ballads, right? Perhaps I should instead be taking notes from the God of Songs.” Venti smiled innocently as he turned to face Morax, already preparing his reply when… 

    “What?” Saleos exclaimed. “Rex Lapis, you could not possibly suggest that a god of songs knows more about love than the goddess of love herself! I will tell you all about love!"

    “Why do you keep your mouth shut about everything but love?” Barbatos blurted out, irritated. Who the fuck cared about what some snow princess had to say? It rarely ever snowed enough to coat the earth in Liyue. She can keep that penguin love shit at the gates of her nation where it belongs.

    “And why do you keep your mouth shut about everything but wine, you deadbeat?” 

    “A deadbeat? I think you old hermits can learn a thing or two about letting go of power. Unlike the rest of you, I still remember exactly why the war was fought.”

    Xbalanque summoned his claymore as he growled, “Are you starting some shit, pipsqueak?” 

    Makoto raised her hands in a placating manner. “Now, now; Archons must not resolve our internal issues with bloodshed.”

    “We have just survived a war, after all,” Rukkhedevata agreed. “Aren’t wind elves supposed to be a peaceful race?”

    Morax summoned his spear and threw it at the table, splintering the rock at its centre. The entire table jumped up in shock. Then, as though he had done nothing, Morax simply raised a conversational hand as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “Hm. Unconditional and perfect love will never exist,” he stated calmly and slowly. “Everyone has faults, after all. The two sides must come to an agreement that benefits both so certain conditions shall always apply. Thus, love is a contract. Who is to say that love isn’t scientific and magical at the same time? And who is to say love can’t be between a being and science itself? As long as the contract stays firm, so shall love. I believe that is my answer.”

    “Science is a concept, how can it agree to a contract?” Egeria asked. “I don’t believe it is right to bind…”

    “Science is a concept that binds the faithful and the sceptics together. It accepts everyone, abyssal monsters or vishaps or humans. It is already in a contract, just as everything within the world is.” Morax stood up. “Why don’t we continue our discussions tomorrow? The Harbour welcomes you all to its delicacies and local sights.”

    As the Archons began to leave the table to drift to the humans’ side, Venti stayed behind. 

    “Contracts, hm?” Venti asked. “Wind elves don’t adhere to such things.”

     Morax sighed and rubbed his temple. “You are a real shit stirrer, aren’t you? You should be thanking me.”

     “A stiff contract is nothing more than a rigid cage. The lack of change is completely unromantic.” Venti said nothing more as he turned his back and began to walk in the direction of Stone Gate. 

    Morax grabbed his wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

    “I don’t do well with crowds. Rest assured, I will be on time for the next meeting.” 

    A contract, eh? Yeah. That made sense. Venti hadn’t known what he had expected. Of course the most powerful adeptus in Teyvat would love only for convenience, what else would he even need? Power, money? What a joke. Of course his love would just be a prison for whatever pitiable soul managed to meet the pathetic criteria he set forth, they were going to have the privilege of being Rex Lapis’ eye candy. 

    So Venti wondered if he was ‘convenient enough’ to have a chance. He supposed he was. The weak archon of a neighbouring nation that was rich in agriculture and history might be just what he needs to expand his influence and become a Shade or something. Could Teyvatian creatures even become Shades? Morax would get eaten alive in Celestia, his beloved diplomat stance be damned. Not that it would ever be Venti’s problem, of course. 

    Morax wasn’t letting go. 

    “I apologise,” Venti said with a smile. “Is there something wrong? I already know Liyue well enough in this century due to our private meetings and I am afraid that I have another meeting to attend in an hour.” Well, there was actually a meeting he could not avoid in the foreseeable future, so it was not a complete lie. He just did not have it in him to socialise any further.

    “What meeting? We always reserve two days of a year for socialising and doing nothing else. It was your idea.”

   “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a rain check, this meeting can’t be postponed.”

    “Who can be more important than the Archons?”

    “I am afraid, Rex Lapis, that it is not your business. We may pretend to be friendly with each other for the sake of our nations but please drop the act when there is no one around to fool.” Predictably, Morax dropped his wrist as if he was burned. Venti knew very well how much those words would hurt the old adeptus who saw himself somewhat as a father figure to the rest of the Archons. 

    Morax’s face had become still. “You were the one who made these meetings. You were the one who insisted on us taking two days off every year.”

    “Yes and I stand by that. I just have some urgent business to take care of. See you tomorrow.” He dematerialised before he could be grabbed again. 

    Dragonspine was as cold as ever. 

    Morax’s answer was not supposed to hurt. It should be regarded as valuable information for future use, it should bring excitement about the fact that Venti was adding to his collection of intimate knowledge about the archons of Teyvat. However, as Venti sat down and penned the contents of the meeting on a journal that was about to run out of space, his insides felt as cold as the artificial snow covering the land.

Chapter Text

    Rex Lapis had a problem. 

    He had more than a single problem, of course. He was the god of a newly formed nation that was made into a harbour despite the fact that he hated anything to do with the sea at this point. He was the oldest of the seven Archons of the seven nations, which unwittingly put some weight on his shoulders. His humans were all confused and scared due to the chaotic war they had gone through, unwilling to trust the divine they had been taught to fear. The adepti were in a similar state as well, completely incapable of trusting Celestia when Celestia had started the war in the first place. 

    The Gnosis hurt.

    But no, none of these problems are the problem he was thinking about. These are problems that he had known would weigh on him since the start. 

    The problem was Barbatos. 

    Rex Lapis turned over the mora in his hand. He inspected his creation as he would a craft from a human, trying to identify its uses and its aesthetic qualities without any guide on the matter. It has become one of his hobbies recently. Celestia’s insignia looked an awful lot like a cecillia, didn’t it? Barbatos always kept a fresh cecillia on his hat. It smelled quite refreshing, with subtle tones of the earth that was tossed around in the harsh winds. He always felt the urge to get a little closer when he smelled the fragrance. Perhaps the smell of the earth would get stronger if he were to get close enough… 

    Ah, yes. His mind had gone back to that insufferable creature. 

    The last time Rex Lapis had seen him was in the archaic meeting, where he had stirred shit and then promptly left. Another meeting to attend to? How preposterous. As if that wind elf would have anyone more important to talk to. 

    What if he did? What if Mondstadt was in trouble and that’s why he had been in a foul mood the entire day? But he’d surely tell of his troubles. They were all archons, they’d willingly lend a hand to the youngest among them. Why hadn’t he asked Rex Lapis for help? Not only did they share a border that could easily be breached, Rex Lapis was also the strongest there is. No problem in any nation could be so hard that it couldn’t be solved with spears. 

    Ah, he could imagine it. He would kill whatever had troubled the little wind elf, using only a single spear in the most ideal situation, and Barbatos would smile so beautifully at him. Maybe he’d even turn into his Exuvia form as he got rid of the threat. Just thinking about how the Exuvia form would positively make a dwarf out of the revered Anemo Archon was enough to make him puff out his chest in pride. Perhaps the conversation would go like…. 

    “Dear Morax, I had thought the situation was hopeless!” Barbatos would exclaim, happy tears in his eyes. 

    Rex Lapis would raise his chin so that his scales caught the sunlight at just the right angle and gleamed. He would reply with something very cool and heroic, he was sure. Humans always went crazy for even a single one of his words. Perhaps he’d reply, “You should have just told me whatever it was in the first place. I hate to see my fellow Archons so troubled.”

     “Ah… Did you only help me because I was a fellow Archon?” the bashful elf would ask. 

    “Not only a fellow Archon,” Rex Lapis would say as he got closer. In his fantasy, Barbatos had turned to his vishap form and he gleamed with pure, untainted elemental power. It beckoned him closer still. “But someone so near and dear to the heart of my city.”

    “ Only your city’s heart?”

    “Hmm… I wonder.” He would be close enough that he could swallow the elf whole, yet the elf wouldn’t show any signs of fear. Barbatos should never, ever have any reasons to fear him. Rex Lapis refused to give even a single one. 

    “Oh, Morax, I can’t take it anymore!” Barbatos would finally crack. As he’d sit on the Exuvia’s snout, he would finally confess. “I have loved you since I caught wind of your trials during the war! I rode the winds I personally created to meet you for the first time! I feel the most free when my heart is bound to yours!”

    Of course, who could ever reject such a heartfelt confession? Rex Lapis had waited for it. He had yearned for the time when the prideful little elf, so deluded with the pursuit of freedom, would finally abandon that pride of his because his love had grown too much to bear alone. 

    Barbatos was a lonesome wind elf without a tribe he belonged to, found in the centre of Dragonspine and nursed to health by humans. He had no victories or honour to speak of beyond the rebellion against the God of Storms and the War. But if Barbatos got down on his knees and begged for Rex Lapis to take him, he’d consider it. Barbatos was quite a smart and cunning elf, after all; Rex Lapis could always educate him to become the perfect partner worthy of his status. 

    He was so lost in his fantasies that he failed to notice one of his Yaksha approach him. 

    “My Lord,” Xiao greeted as he fell to his knees in front of him. 

    Rex Lapis blinked the (delusions) dreams away and cleared his sight to behold his faithful fighter. “Blessed day to you, Xiao. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

    “Uh…” Xiao looked around for a while. Once deeming the surroundings safe, he bowed his head yet again. “You had asked for updates regarding the Anemo Archon. I have news to report to you.”

    Ah, yes, he had. Ever since Barbatos’ abrupt departure, he’d been so worried about whatever had caused it. “Please continue.”

    “I heard him, I think,” Xiao said quietly. He was blushing. “I… It was so shameful, my Lord, I almost gave into my karmic debt. I was… I was so lost, it was so painful. But I suddenly began to hear such a soft melody played on a Duhua flute. At first, I believed it was you. But then I felt a warm breeze all around me, as if it were trying to embrace me. Suddenly the pain was gone and I had become so lost in the melody. It was such a beautiful tune, my Lord, I doubt anyone other than the God of Songs himself could have created it. When I woke up, I woke up with this in my hands.” Xiao showed off the anemo vision bashfully as it gleamed with elemental power. Freshly minted. And, judging from the way it gleamed, it had come straight from the source.

    Suddenly Rex Lapis was in the mood for wind elf stew. 

    Here he was, like a fucking idiot, thinking that Mondstadt was in trouble while the Anemo Archon was too busy trying to serenade some Yaksha! What, did he think that some gleaming stone would win Xiao’s attention? Wasn’t Xiao originally a mythical bird? Was this some sort of offer? Rex Lapis had witnessed quite a lot of birds trying to win affection by offering pretty stones, and what could possibly be prettier than an anemo vision? They were coloured in the exact same shade as Barbatos’ eyes, which was proving to be an impossible colour to recreate. Besides, when the wind elf got overly emotional his eyes would gain a very fetching glow to them, and his cheeks would turn the most adorable shade of green… Rex Lapis sighed and waved his thoughts away.

    His Yaksha had just earned himself a vision from an Archon. This was not the time to delve into his own problems.

    “An anemo vision holds with it the winds of freedom,” Rex Lapis stated and a smile naturally bloomed on his face. “I believe it suits you.”

    “But my Lord, my karmic debt…”

    “...is my fault," Rex Lapic interjected. Xiao opened his mouth to protest but Rex Lapis raised his hand to silence him. “The war was brutal and I will not deny the fact that I could not have won it without every last one of you supporting me. That, however, does not excuse the fact that supporting me is a part of the reason you are now forever haunted. Please, allow another archon to relieve you of your chains.”

    Xiao hastily bowed his head. Though not before Rex Lapis could see the tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Rex Lapis.” With that, he dissipated into a cold breeze. 

    So, about that wind elf stew…

Chapter Text

    Giving birth to more winds was a lengthy process. It wasn’t supposed to be. 

    The bitterness and anger Barbatos felt manifested into the creation of the new wind elf. It screeched and hollered. It bit the skin with its cold. 

    “Barbatos, calm down,” Andrius uttered softly. “You’re safe. Not even humans dare to come to Wolvendom, you’re completely safe. We’re trying to create spring. Do you remember spring? Can you tell me what you remember of spring?”

    Andrius had undergone the most change during the newly established Archaic regime. Once a harsh god with no love left to spare, now the personal caretaker of a very upset elf. His voice was hoarse from screaming and bellowing, but he softened it for the young god who had won the throne that had been meant for Andrius. 

    “It’s warm,” Barbatos replied. His voice shook. “I don’t remember how warm, though… Was it pears that bloomed this season? Or sunsettias?”

    Andrius nodded. “Sunsettias. You are doing well, this new elf will have a good home in Dragonspine. Let’s make it a sibling. We need one for spring, Barbatos. And then you can rest for the day.”

    “I used to be able to create spring in a single hour.” When he'd had a completely different set of duties. He felt the mortifying urge to sob. “Did they ever tell you the reason why?”

    “I’m sorry. I may be old but whatever I tell you will only be baseless speculation.”

    “Just how fucking useless were you and Decarabian anyways?” He was itching for a fight. Andrius didn’t fall for the obvious bait.

    “Very. Sunsettias bloom in the spring, and the berries become pale yellow. Cecilias are in their last days of bloom but the Sweet Flowers smell wonderfully ripe. Wolfhooks are in their last stages of being ripe, just before they begin to rot. The air smells fresh and sweet.”

    “Calla Lillies begin to grow,” Barbatos continued, feeling a tad calmer. “And it’s mating season for boars, so apples must begin falling from trees. Not all of them, though… Yellow apples are the most attractive to them. We need a separate legion of wind elves to be in charge of pollen. That will take me a week of uninterrupted work.”

    “You need your rest. We will make it a month so you can do your work properly, you don’t need to stress. We just need one wind elf for the day. We are on schedule.”

    The manifestation for a new wind elf began. Barbatos kept his thoughts on lighter topics, kept himself from worrying about the archaic duties he should be doing and how making more mistakes could lead to a famine. Spring was the beginning of Mondstadt’s true labour, and it created a gateway for Mondstadt’s trade routes with the entirety of the world. Everything had to be perfect. But worrying about it would just cause Barbatos to falter. 

    Spring. He had to make spring. 

    A mild tempered elf for the warmer days. This one would be in charge of the climate. It would laze around from shade to shade, hopping away from the sunlight to keep everything at a simply warm temperature. Perhaps it’d help its siblings with carrying pollen when it rested at the shades of fruit trees. That would make Barbatos smile. 

    The birth was complete and the god was drained. The newborn chirped in confusion when its creator suddenly collapsed onto the stone floor. It lazily circled his head. 

    “I’m fine, dear,” Barbatos assured. “Just a tad tired. Such a beauty you are.”

    The wind elf chirped again, this time in a bashful manner. It blew warm air towards Barbatos before it left for its post.

    Andrius let out a huff. “That’s enough for the day. Go get yourself something to eat. If you have enough energy in you, perhaps mingle with the humans.”

    The world was spinning and shaking for the wind elf. He clutched the cold stone of Andrius's domain to try to gain stability. “I don’t think I can move at the moment. Let me get back to you on that when I’ve woken up.” Then Barbatos promptly passed out. 

    When Barbatos woke up, he expected an annoyed wolf and a cold floor. Instead he woke up alone on a cosy sheet. 

    “Welcome back,” a familiar voice greeted him. Not alone, then. 

    Barbatos couldn’t make sense of whose voice it was but he figured it had to be either Dvalin or Andrius since it was familiar. “Andrius, old man,” he teased. “Who knew you had a soft spot in your frigid heart? Am I to take this as flirting?”

    “... What?” The voice suddenly turned cold. Barbatos was now certain it was Andrius, Dvalin would have just laughed his ass off at the teasing. 

    “Ah, this plan of playing hot and cold is truly chaotic. Were you hoping to steal my heart through the confusion? How scandalous!”

    “What?” The voice grew colder and Barbatos’ elation grew. He was too drunk on exhaustion to truly care about self-preservation, not that Andrius would ever truly try to kill him. He might make living a little difficult for a few days, though. 

    “But alas, this love should never be. However shall an Archon court a fallen god? Celestia would forbid it, humans would condemn it. Or perhaps you plan to steal me from Celestia? Perhaps convince me to give up my Gnosis for a chance at happiness? My! And whatever shall you do when you have concluded your dastardly plans?”

    “You’re right,” the voice drawled. “Celestia would forbid it. What type of Archon falls for a mere servant?” 

    Just like that, the familiarity of the voice finally sunk in. Barbatos stood up and summoned a weapon to strike at the intruder but he wasn’t fast enough. His sword met a polearm.

    Morax smiled. “Good morning.”

    “Archons require permission to cross borders,” Barbatos replied. 

     “I don’t recall you ever needing one. Seeing as it is still winter, I thought that an agricultural god would be free enough to entertain a guest. I apologise for any inconveniences I might have caused.” 

    “A ruler, however, has no free time.” Barbatos withdrew his sword and stepped back. This was dangerous. Why had Andrius allowed Morax to get this close to him during these turbulent times? He must look so weak and frail right now. As if Morax needed any more reason to see him as inferior. “So what is the purpose of your visit?”

    Morax studied him for a brief moment. Barbatos sat up straighter. He could see his reflection in Morax’s eyes, looking like an absolute mess. Then, finally, the older god sighed. “Barbatos, are you in danger?” he asked. 

    That wasn’t what Barbatos had been expecting. “Huh?”  

    “First you ran away from our traditional outing, which you never do, then you didn’t reply to any of my letters, and now I found you curled into a foetal position in Andrius’ domain.” Morax fiddled with one of his jacket’s pockets and produced a mirror before presenting it to the elf. “You look like you have seen death. I don’t think you have ever looked like this after the war.”

    Barbatos ignored the mirror. “You simply caught me while I was napping. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

    “Apologies, again.” Barbatos took the time to survey his surroundings. They were in Starsnatch Cliff, its wind blew an off-putting cold to the intruders. The stars, however, gleamed like a million fragmented jewels--much akin to the beautiful moments in life. A right shame they were held captive to witness such an embarrassing sight. “Do you have a habit of falling asleep next to gods that have tried to murder you?”

    “Where is Osial buried again?” Barbatos shot back. 

    “That was the humans’ choice.”

    “Anyways, what are you here for? I am sure an old man such as you knows exactly how it looks when you stand so calmly in Starsnach Cliff.”

    “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I stand in a fellow archon’s domain.”

    “Quit avoiding the question, Morax. We both know you’d rather eat Osial’s tentacles than have to stay here for another second. Why are you here?”

    Zhongli paused for a few seconds, obviously considering his next words carefully. Barbatos prepared for impact. “Mondstadt is a harsh nation. It requires to be conquered continuously, maintained religiously, and ruled over with an iron fist; many archons would have difficulty here. Most of the work required of me is done. I was wondering if my neighbouring nations needed help, so I thought to ask you first.”

    “I single-handedly constructed this nation.”

    “Indeed, which is why you are the most worthy of its crown. It does not mean you cannot ask for help. The Seven are meant to help each other.”

    Barbatos had to think carefully over this offer. While every cell within his body argued against the help, he knew that he could not allow his pride to be the deciding factor when it came to Mondstadt’s affairs. He dismissed his sword and fell back to the sheet. Morax’s scent clung to it. Ah, so it wasn’t a sheet–it was a coat. He took another whiff of the comforting scent. It smelled of the mountain. The dependable and solid earth that dared to defy the heights of the sky, a home to all types of creatures. Creatures of all sorts could also use it to navigate, placing it at the centre of their little worlds. Would Morax be as dependable as a mountain if Barbatos were to try to create a home in his arms?

    He shook off unnecessary thoughts and instead focused on work. On one hand, an Archon’s help in his archaic duties would allow him to focus completely on preparing for the next season so that it’d take him less time to do so. On the other hand, it’d be harder for him to hide his condition from one of the most important allies Mondstadt could have because they’d have to work together for an extended period of time. Not to mention the fact that it'd leave Mondstadt vulnerable to attack if Morax decided to use the information he'd get from this collaboration with malicious intent. However, the last part did have an easy enough fix...

     “... Yeah, I think I need help.” Barbatos admitted as he closed his eyes. There were too many Celestial meetings and Abyssal expeditions that he’d have to attend alongside meetings between Archons. The nobles of Mondstadt still required constant guidance, his archaic duties were a constant threat with their eye watering amount of paperwork, and creating a new legion of wind elves was taking up far too much of his energy. Mondstadt was one single breakdown away from death and Barbatos was close to snapping. He would just have to suck it up.

    Barbatos’ eyes were still closed, he didn’t see the delighted smile that appeared on Morax’s face. “It is not shameful to ask for help. I have quite a bit of experience in the art of ruling, feel free to ask me for help any time.”

    “Thank you,” Barbatos said.

Chapter Text

    “This is… organised.” Morax said, disbelief clear in his voice. 

    Barbatos huffed, letting out an exasperated wind that barely tickled the Lord of Stone. “Of course it is, I take my duties seriously!” He placed the journals and documents in his hands on the table gently. He organised the journals and documents into three piles amongst themselves. “From left to right, the journals’ order is: The duties that have been completed, have been started, have not been touched. Again, from left to right, the documents’ order goes: Prayers of the common folk, prayers of the nobles, and prayers of government officials. Here,” Barbatos took a journal with gold edges and intricate carvings on the leather cover that he had once bought with the Geo Archon in mind and placed it on the table, “are the instructions on how to complete the duties and answer the prayers. Mondstadt is built upon the unity of gods and humans, which means that I have quite a bit of rules to adhere to.”

    “I would think that the God of Freedom would have more… authority in his territory.”

    “Unrestrained freedom is nothing more than chaos. I am free to be an individual rather than a boring ol’ god, they are free to have autonomy in their own ruling.” 

    “So it is a contract,” Morax mused, “With conditions imposed upon both sides, the Archon and humans can work together to create a nation that both are satisfied by. However, can humans truly be trusted with such a responsibility?”

    “Of course they can be.” Barbatos replied absent-mindedly. His body moved around the library to shift his journals, documents and volumes of books around the library in an effort to make it easier for Morax to navigate. “They’ll make mistakes along the way, of course, but so will I. Everything will work out as long as we keep each other in check.”

    “How optimistic… What happens if something were to happen to you?”

    Barbatos giggled. “Why, Morax, that is the exact reason why I am doing it like this! What happens if I drop dead and a poor, untrained soul is suddenly thrown into Celestia? I need every creature in Mondstadt to be accustomed to such a responsibility. It is better for them to make mistakes while I am still here to teach them how to fix it than for them to make mistakes while they hold the crown of the North.” 

    Barbatos missed the way Morax’s body turned rigid at the mention of death. “I did not say anything about any unforeseen deaths,” the Geo Lord replied with a stiff tone.

    “Well, of course you would not. But I need to be prepared for all outcomes.” Barbatos, finally satisfied that his library was in the best shape possible to serve his guest well, twirled to face him with a bright smile. Morax felt his breath evacuate his lungs for a little bit. “Thank you, truly. I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, so this means the world to me. I will be sure to pay you back.”

    Well, if he is the one bringing up prices… “Let this be our contract then,” Morax offered, his heart fluttering. “I wish to be paid with a song.”

    Barbatos was obviously not expecting such a price. His eyes were wide with surprise, his mouth left just a tad open. His being faintly glowed because he failed to keep his identity in check for a split second. “In… a song? Are you positive?”

    “Well, perhaps not only in song,” now that the elf had made it clear he’d been expecting more, who was Morax to try to be cheap? “For a day, I wish for the two of us to spend the day in Mondstadt. Talking with the locals, browsing the wares… Then, when the day is done, I wish for you to sing to me a ballad of the old days in Mondstadt from your perspective. I believe that this might be the most effective way for me to learn more about this nation’s culture and values.” 

    “A… Ah!” Barbatos seemed to snap back from whatever thoughts had kept his eyes glazed throughout Morax’s monologue. He chuckled. “You could have stated your intentions of cultural exchange without troubling yourself! I would be honoured to host my neighbour. Honestly, it is high time that you came here anyways; I am the one who always visits you! Right…” The elf cleared his throat. “You believe in the fairness of contracts, yes? This couldn’t possibly be the equivalent of taking care of another nation, I refuse to see this as sufficient payment. Anyways, you don’t need to name your price now, just tell me about it when it is the proper time. I’ve really got to go now, though, so see you later!” And just like that, with a flurry of wind, the elf disappeared from sight with only dissipating anemo particles to fill his spot. 

    Morax heaved a sigh. Well, it was probably for the best that Barbatos thought the outing was strictly for business because there was no alternative explanation that he could come up with if asked. 

    The Geo Archon sighed once again and sat down on the surprisingly comfortable wooden chair to get to work. He first opened the journal of supposed rules that he had been given to familiarise him with the tasks ahead. 

    Morax felt his eyebrows rise as he skimmed through them. While most of the rules set forth would have been implied by the ownership of a Gnosis, Barbatos and Mondstadt had gone through the trouble of making sure to put these rules into record with high detail so that everyone understood their place. Morax began to rifle through all the journals in reach to find drawings of Teyvat’s map with Barbatos’ personal comments on the regions’ geographical qualities, humans, and reigning gods. Another journal had half-baked experiment ideas, for alternative food sources, regimes, and various schooling methods. He suddenly remembered Guizhong’s shelves filled with scrolls upon scrolls of similar contents, though her experiments were never as theoretical as the ones he faced now. He stood up and skimmed through the contents of the shelves in this study. Studying the Sun and Moon, Hydromancy for Dummies: Anyone Can Do It!, A Comprehensive Study on Technology Around Teyvat, Teyvat Travel Guide: Archon Edition, The Legend of the Silver Wolf, Bamboo Shoot Forest…

    It appeared that Morax did indeed have a type. He couldn’t handle this revelation, so he simply sat down to get back to work. 

Chapter Text

    They worked surprisingly well together, as it turned out. There were a few things to work through, however…

    “This contract is a death sentence,” Morax complained. The Lord of Geo, Father and Overseer of All Contracts, would never whine. But he came awfully close. “Why do the nobles need to be aware of everything?”

    “They need to be made aware of anything that concerns humans,” Venti corrected off-handedly, as he worked through the prayers to see Mondstadt’s current trajectory. “These are the same nobles who have helped me learn how to rule over them, they deserve this much. I usually just lie to them if these matters have to do with Celestia or remind them of their lacking stature if they outright ask for more.”

    “Humans are far too naive to be trusted this way,” Morax said again. “They are going to hurt you.”

    “Yes, yes, old man; I am very aware of your crippling paranoia. Here,” the elf handed the adeptus a scroll, “I figured that you’d appreciate a similar set-up for Liyue to make your nation easier to track.” The adeptus put down the notebook filled to the brim with personalised notes about Barbatos’s meeting with his people in favor of what was handed to him. He opened the scroll to find carefully documented and organised prayers of his people.

    “How did you manage to do this so quickly?” Morax asked in wonder as he immediately got to work to establish a pattern in Liyue’s current state.

    “Since you found my way of going about this archon business so novel, I got curious. I went to your adepti to learn about how you are handling things.” Venti put down his documents to give his co-worker(?), friend(?) an incredulous look. “Streetward Rambler says you just tell Liyue what to do then fuck off to your duties.”

    “They ask for guidance and I give it to them,” Morax defended.

    “Yes, guidance! Not orders! You’re rotting their brains!” 

    “You have yet to answer my question, elf.” Venti rolled his eyes at the blatant change of the topic.

    “It appeared that not all of your adepti are as rock-headed as you…”

    “What did you just say?” Barbatos had grown a bit more comfortable around him, judging from his minute slip-ups. Morax was too content with this progress to be too annoyed by the petty insult.

    “... and they were more than happy to help me. I taught the process to Streetward Rambler, who promised to teach it to those under her command. Congratulations on your new humanity communications department, no thanks to you.”

    Morax smirked and laid the scroll down to make eye contact with the pesky little elf. Barbatos had a self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes from getting away with his little slight. “So now I get to just order around this department rather than the humans. Seems to me like you’re just enabling this bad habit of mine.” 

    “Well, at least your adepti are used to it,” Barbatos replied with a long-suffering sigh. He tipped his chair back to its hind legs and kept himself balanced with a gentle breeze while keeping eye contact with his fellow Archon. “I swear they get turned on by it, they kept waiting for me to bark orders at them while I was there. Just what have you done to them?”

    “I do not bark orders at them. They just respond well to a firm hand, which you lack.” Barbatos used his winds to ruffle Morax’s clothing and documents because, as they got closer, Morax was finding out that this elf was even more of a brat than he let show to the public. “Seeing as we are both distracted, why not take a stroll through town and then get back to work?” 

    “Can’t believe it! The Luminous Morax wishes to take a break from work? Is there another war upon us?” 

    “Silence. If memory recalls, you owe me a tour.” 

    “Yes, yes,” Barbatos gracefully jumped from his rocking chair. “Those who break their promises shall face the Wrath of the Rock. However, humans will create a commotion if they see Archons wandering amongst them outside of our annual meeting, especially in Mondstadt. Are you opposed to being disguised as a human?” A stroll only for the two of them, without their well-meaning believers or workaholic officials interrupting them every two seconds. Exactly what he had wanted.

    “Not at all,” Morax replied carefully, as though he was wary of the idea. “Regrettably, I must admit that I have no practice when it comes to disguising myself.” The lie tasted sweet on his tongue.

    Barbatos giggled. “I figured. Why would the king of the gods want to disguise himself?” He twirled around in his library and snapped his fingers, prompting a bookshelf to suddenly cave into the walls for a few centimeters and slide outwards, opening up a chamber Morax had not known existed. Morax got off his chair and immediately made a beeline for the newly opened room, causing Barbatos to giggle a bit more. “Surprised?”

    The chamber was a walk-in closet. Morax browsed the outfits that his neighbor had collected over the centuries with an appraising eye. “I should have noticed a gap in the walls. Mere runes would not be able to fool an Archon, how did you manage it?” A teal garment caught his eye. Its color was a poor imitation of the elf’s eye color but it came awfully close. His brows furrowed as he reached out to it, gently taking it out of its hanger to observe it. It was made of silk and had… silver(?) weaved into the fabric to give the garment shimmer. It was a one-piece outfit that imitated the garments of the United Civilization in Teyvat, its top and bottom halves were connected with a braided brown belt that had a star-shaped jewel in its centre that was too familiar for comfort. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his previous question already forgotten. He looked back at the wind elf. 

    “It was a diplomatic gift,” Barbatos said as he also browsed the closet, his tone airy and light. Morax waited for more information but none came.

    “From who?” Morax pressed as he approached his companion. 

    “Hey, that’s delicate!” Barbatos chastised him as he tried to take the garment back. Morax tightened his grip on it. “Delicate! They’d be pissed if they knew anyone other than me has touched it!” 

    “Who?” 

    Barbatos made a show of appearing to have cracked under Morax’s pressure. “It was from Celestia, when I was crowned the Anemo Archon! We were all given favours, if you recall! Please, either give it to me or put it back where you found it.”

    Morax did not buy the spectacle. “Liar,” he growled out. How dare that elf lie to him with such a sweet tone? How dare that elf assume he could put on some half-baked performance and fool Rex Lapis? Whomever had given the elf this garment could only ever be bad news and the elf was protecting that scum? Against him? Or was he truly clueless? But then why would he avoid the topic? “No Archon would be given something like this, let alone a wind elf, without good cause.” If Morax were not blinded by his anxiety and distress, he’d have seen Barbatos’s muscles go taught. “You have one more chance to tell me who gave you this and why. Do not test me, Barbatos, you will not like the consequences.”

    “I already told you who and why!” Barbatos hissed. “What do you mean, let alone? Do you mean to tell me I am lesser than just because, what, I was born a different species from you? Do you believe me to be too incompetent to be worth the value of a fucking piece of fabric?” 

    “Yes!” Morax blurted out, impatient to move the argument along. “This is not only Teyvat’s thoughts about you but Celestia’s as well! Barbatos, can’t you see what is wrong with this picture? None of the others…”

    “Get out.” 

    Morax blinked, hearing but not comprehending the words that had interrupted him. Surely he had heard wrong? He opened his mouth again, only for the breath to form his words to get stuck in his throat. He widened his eyes incredulously at the wind elf. 

    Barbatos’s form was shaking. He had given up on concealing his divinity, glowing with his stolen authority over the element he was created by. He was sucking in all of the air in the room they were in, making it difficult for Morax to breathe. His eyes shined bright with hostility and his lips were pulled back in a sneer. His white, fluffy wings (when had they emerged?) were splayed out behind him, trying to show the wind elf as bigger and stronger than he actually was in an instinctual attempt to threaten his opponent. Morax absentmindedly mused that he wouldn’t quite mind dying if this was his last ever sight. The lack of air was clearly getting to him. “You have insulted me and, by proxy, my nation. I will not let such a slight stand.” Morax attempted to speak once again, yet no words came to him. Barbatos hissed at his attempt. “Let us come to an agreement: This conversation will remain between us. I see no need to ruin Mondstadt and Liyue’s relationship due to our personal grievances against each other.”

    This time, he was allowed to speak. “Barbatos, I did not mean…” The air thinned once more before he could explain himself. 

    “I wish for nothing more out of your mouth than an agreement. Perhaps you need some time to mull this over. That is fine. I will hear your terms and your agreement in a month’s time. Until then, I do not wish to see you. Thank you for your service in Mondstadt, I will be sure to repay my debts to you in the shortest time possible.” 

    “I offered you help out of my goodwill, not a need for compensation! We are still not done, the farmers…”

    “I will be able to handle my own nation by myself, thank you for your consideration. It is high time Liyue reunited with its ruler.” With a wave of Barbatos’s hand, Morax’s vision was encompassed by anemo. He tried to shout over the wind to be heard but it was a futile effort. 

    Once the winds faded, he found himself past Stone Gate. He turned back and tried to breach Mondstadt’ borders, only to find himself held back by the winds. 

    He had fucked up.

Chapter Text

    Venti felt a foreign pressure snaking its way into him through the meridians underneath his skin. He felt his self-preservation instincts urging him to escape it, even if he had to crawl out of his own body. It was not a new sensation by any means, the elf had long since learnt to push this particular feeling to the back of his mind so that nothing interfered with his duties or daily life. The way that it bothered him now could only be due to all of the negative emotions that have been plaguing him lately.

    So, perhaps it was time to try to take his horrible mood out on other sources. 

    Venti hummed a happy little tune as he dug around the Windrise Tree at around midnight to find a suitable drink for the occasion. Once he had that, he dug around for a glass to fit his mood. He ended up choosing an elegant, crystal wine glass with a small bowl that sparkled in the prettiest way if the light caught it at the right angle. With his wares ready, he made his way to the winery that was newly established in the heart of Mondstadt by that Ragnvindr brat. He decided against using the door and instead floated towards the hushed conversation only the wind could hear to a closed window and tapped on it.

    “Yahoo!” Venti called out as he waved the sealed wine bottle in his hand. The humans in the room looked up from their documents, some more reluctant than others. Franka Gunnhildr, Eckart Ragnvindr, Torben Lawrence and Titus Imunlaukr often congregated in this private room on the top floor until eye-watering hours in the night to discuss Mondstadt’s present and future, as well as indulging in a bit of selfish profits for their clans. He doubted they knew that he knew their adorable little insider trading business, which served him just fine. He’d hold onto that little sin until it was time for his sneaky children to face its inevitable consequences. If they pushed him enough, he could make those consequences appear far ahead of schedule. He kind of wanted them to. 

    “Lord Barbatos,” Franka and Titus were the first to stand and salute their Archon, followed closely by Eckart and Torben. Their ill-timed reactions caused an awkward symphony. Venti remained silent to mess with them for a little bit. 

    Titus was the first to break the minute silence. He walked towards the window to open the latch and let their god in. “Lord Barbatos, please do not tease us,” he sighed with a fond smile. “And please, do sit. Let me pour you wine.” Titus reached for the wine in Venti’s hand and the elf let go of it without a fight. Eckart scurried downstairs to fix them light snacks while the rest of the group adjusted their table and seating to accommodate their surprise guest.

    “What’s the diagnosis, doctors?” Venti joked as he plopped on the chair that his children had set for him. 

    “It is like you are in our heads, Lord Barbatos,” Franka replied. “We had been planning on praying for your guidance on what we were just discussing.”

    “A-ha, found it!” Titus interrupted, as he fished out a wine opener from behind a bookshelf. There was an appreciative hum from the people in the room when the bottle was opened and the fragrant smell of an aged dandelion wine filled the room.

    “It is time for us to broaden our horizons,” Franka continued as the two finally took a seat. Eckart came back with a tray filled with cheese, grapes, cubed apples and a few tarts. He set it in the middle of the table and pulled out a few glasses from the small shelf at the far-east corner of the room. Barbatos reached out to Titus with his own glass and kept his ears on Franka as he was served. “Spring is upon us and, should the Wind continue to favour us, it is time for Mondstadt to strengthen ourselves with diplomacy. Mondstadt is one of the luckier nations that came out of the war without as many losses as our fellow nations and now we have finally managed to get back to our feet. We must share this strength with Teyvat.”

    “Perhaps rethink your phrasing,” Venti advised as he swirled his glass. “A lot of people would see that type of speech as a threat.”

    “We did not mean it like that,” Eckart replied. “But yes… the phrasing really… Anyways, the seven nations have been isolated from each other for far too long. The Archons are the only ones participating in trades and diplomacy between the nations, and we can no longer afford to sit back and let you do all of the work for us.”

    “It seems like you’ve already got it figured out, what do you need me for?” 

    “We were hoping for more information about the other nations and for you to choose the diplomats that will be sent. Noblesse oblige is our code of honor, however, humans are likely to be biased towards their own clans. We’d feel more at ease with our Archon’s impartial decisions.” 

    Torben snacked on a few almonds as he took too big of a swig of his glass. “We believe that Liyue would be perfect as our first destination. Lord Morax is seen as a fair and calm Archon, and the people’s contract is their law. Our trade through land will be easy with the paths you have made for us. As for the militant approach… The Millelith are certainly a force to be reckoned with, Mondstadt would feel more at ease with them being firm allies than potential enemies.” 

    “Not even a century of peace and you are already thinking of war?” 

    “Was the Archon War planned, my Lord? We will all make a solemn oath to Wind and Time that we will do our best to avoid war and never be the instigator if it will put your mind at ease, but would you truly believe that Mondstadt will never be at war in the future?”

    “Hm… Full marks.” 

    “So, what say you, Lord, to our plan?”

    Venti bought himself some time by snacking on the cubed apples and taking small sips of his wine. Their logic was solid, better than he’d honestly expected from such ignorant children, and their eagerness to not be outdone by the Archons gave him a breath of fresh air. He breathed in the snow and the cold Mondstadt had once been fated to be imprisoned by, and thought back to rumours he had heard several lifetimes ago. When he let go of his breath, he made sure the air he exhaled was warm. An arrogant woman, one who had once taken immense pride in her skills with the bow and claimed there was not a single problem she could not solve with it, who’d died kneeling down and begging came to his mind. 

    “Titus,” the Archon called out. “What is it that Imunlaukr draws out their weapons for?”

    “You and Mondstadt,” Titus replied immediately. “What does that have to do with our current topic, my Lord?”

    The Archon tutted gently. “Mondstadt should always come before anything and anyone else, silly child. If I threaten this nation, no matter my intentions, draw that greatsword against me. Never trade one tyrant for another.” He rocked his chair freely, feeling his winds balance him. “Liyue is the land of gods and adepti, humans do not participate in the affairs of the nation quite yet. I am afraid that Mondstadt’s diplomats would be seen as nothing more than an Archon’s ornaments in such a place. Instead… how about we set an example?” 

    The humans seemed interested in being the ones to set an example, yet seemed confused on how their Archon was going about this conversation. Venti chuckled at their adorable faces.

    “The Imunlaukr clan were once quite pessimistic humans. I suppose not much has changed about their perspective, though their mindset certainly has. They once believed that their weapons should be drawn to amuse the gods, they’d committed many atrocities for the smallest of favours.” 

    “Yes,” Titus, the current head and representative of the clan, confirmed. “This changed after the Archon War. Imunlaukr fled to Mondstadt during the war and was welcomed with open arms despite the dire fight against Decarabian and the monsters of the Abyss. He was made an official citizen by the Anemo Archon when the rebellion was won. After witnessing the Archon sharing his authority with his people and ending the cycle of tyranny, he swore his eternal devotion to the nation and the god. This devotion has been passed down through the generations.”

    “As expected of the current head, your recount of your history lessons is perfect,” a shame that those lessons were a tad lacking. “Children can be quite cruel and ruthless if not guided with a gentle but firm hand. Liyue’s hand is too firm, it is as harsh as the rock they carve their contracts on. The Wind can weather that hand down but it will take some time,” Venti’s glass had run dry, so he reached for the bottle to pour himself more. He admired the kaleidoscope of colours that appeared around the table’s surface as the glass moved around. “And it’d be a better endeavour to take on with a few more allies and accomplishments under our belt. Who, pray tell, would be a better ally to a nation built upon the unity of humanity and divinity than the Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples and Laws?”

    Silence took reign over the room as the humans considered the advice. 

    “Then,” Franka said, shuffling her documents, “we wish for you to select the suitable delegates, my Lord.”

    “You are not one of them,” Venti informed.

    “... Egeria is a scientist at heart,” Venti explained. “As such, Fontaine has a similar regime to Mondstadt’s. Human or not, sinners or saints; everyone has a duty to fulfill for the greater good of Fontaine. That is what ties everyone together. Their technological advancements are their true resource, which is what Mondstadt should focus on. They are currently quite interested in creating automata. Their judicial system is harsh and tends to paint the courtroom in monochrome.” 

    Dawn had broken, painting the room in shades of orange and gold. They were currently on their third wine bottle. Four delegates had been chosen through careful consideration of everyone in the room, and it was about time for Venti to call it a day. Too bad the children would have to clock in soon enough. 

    “Thank you, my Lord, this will be enough for the day,” Torben uttered. Exhaustion rolled off of him in waves that made Venti wince in sympathy. 

    Franka yawned as she stretched her back, too exhausted to even cover her mouth with a hand. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” she muttered, “What is the occasion, my Lord? I doubt you have dressed this way to impress us.” Venti looked down on instinct and was met with the sight of a green garment that shined with hints of silver, bearing a peculiar gem in the centre of its braided belt. The gem, previously empty, was glowing teal with pure anemo energy. 

    It seemed his plan was a success, seeing as he’d forgotten all about it. He chuckled. “I also have a diplomatic meeting to attend. I was here to see what Mondstadt’s current state was to ensure I am up to date.”

    “May we ask who you’ll be visiting?”

    “Hmmm… I suppose it can’t hurt. I’ve been called up to Celestia to give them updates regarding our situation.” Suddenly, the exhaustion was sucked from the room as the humans perked up. He met his children’s excited grins with a smile. “You cannot believe how pleased I am, we are ahead of schedule.” 

    Eckart suddenly yelped, “My Lord, we did not keep you, did we?” 

    “Oh no, no; we are given a wide breadth of time to report back. I will just…” 

    “My Lord, if I may…” Franka interjected. Venti raised an eyebrow, which prompted her to continue. “The wreath is a bit skewed. Could I… help? I could style your hair to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”  

    Venti tilted his head, his vision going a bit foggy again. There was a time during the rebellion that the Bard would sew little dresses out of spare fabric and dress Barbatos with them. Barbatos would then give an impromptu fashion show to the rebels. The humans would play the harsh and dramatic critics, making a spectacle of fainting for the dresses they liked and being irrationally angry at what they did not like. Venti blinked his memories away and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

    Franka stood up and, with gentle hands, took the wreath and placed it on the table. It was a wreath made of silver and adorned by smaller cuts of the same gem that was woven into his garment to make them look like fruit. The gems went empty and dull when they left his person, which captured everyone’s attention.

    Titus was the first to ask, “What exactly are those gems, my Lord? I have never seen anything like it.” 

    Franka untied his braids and began to brush his hair with her fingers. She massaged his head while at it, causing him to involuntarily trill. Venti tried his best to focus on which lie would be the most believable. “They are a gift from Celestia, given to the beings that they favour. Think of it like Visions.” 

    His children’s glee over their Archon being favoured helped Barbatos feel just a little bit better about what was about to happen. 

Chapter Text

    Celestia had always been a constant in Barbatos’ life, as it had been for most of the creatures in Teyvat, and the only constant in this place was change. 

    “Keep moving,” a gruff voice behind him ordered when Barbatos faltered in his step to take a look at what had been done to the mural he’d once loved to examine in his free time. The elf rolled his eyes and stopped abruptly, causing the drone to bump into him. These were a new addition to the Realm of the Gods. Initially nothing more than servants to bring the Shades their tea, they had been trained into military personnel and personal bodyguards. They lined the halls and guarded the doors, and escorted the Archons where they needed to go and to ensure they did not stray and bear witness to anything they weren’t supposed to. 

    “I am the wind of time, I do not need an escort.” he gestured to the wall. “Where’s the mural that was once here?” It had once been a beautiful depiction of the allience between the Descenders and the Seelies before the historical shit hit the fan.

    “Nothing that concerns you. Keep moving.”

    “It has been painted over.” Barbatos observed, and dug in his heels. “Who authorised this? That was the proud history of…”

    A cold, domineering voice suddenly echoed in the hall. “I authorised it.” The drone dropped to its knees like the pathetic ass-kisser it was. Barbatos simply faced the intruder and sent a cheerful wave their way. “What is that horrid hairstyle? Did you roll around in Starsnatch Cliff like a swine before you came here?” The Shade of Life, like every other Shade, was a domineering being that wished for perfection. Her human form was that of a tall, willowy woman with unnaturally long and thin fingers. She had short blonde hair that came down to her chin, cut straight with a razor, and her eyes were a reflection of the Primordial Sea. She had draped herself with the signature one-piece garment of the United Civilisation, made out of deep blue silk and woven with gold that made it ripple to mimic her Authority. 

    Barbatos did his best to keep his smile civil. “Blessed day to you, Mother. May I ask… why?” 

    “We've already got a record keeper, why waste space on such unimportant matters?” the Shade waved a dismissive hand. “In fact, I want to commission you to carve another mural there. Surely you could use the extra money.” She made a face at him as she looked at him from head to toe. “Clothes have been prepared and are waiting for you in your room. Wash yourself and do your hair properly before you even think about joining us for the meeting, and please remember that you are on a tight schedule. If I have to get up and find you again, I assure you that you will not like the consequences.” With that, she turned on her heel and dissipated into nothing. The drone stood and pushed Barbatos forward to prompt him to walk.

    “I do not need escorts,” Barbatos hissed but kept walking. “That was a world-class cower, if I do say so myself, Jorge.”

    “I bowed to show my reverence, not that you lot know what that is,” the drone replied. “Don’t try so hard to call me by name. Your mind is probably too small to remember it.” 

    “Thank you for your generosity. I’ll be sure to remember that, at least.” As they came to the familiar room leading to his room and he opened the door, he couldn’t help but tease, “Will you come in as well? Watch me wash up and make sure I’m up to par?” He was shoved into the room without any response. The door slammed shut behind him.

    Ah, pearls before swine. 

    Barbatos gathered himself off of the floor and took in his surroundings. He’d be tempted to say that his room had been untouched, seeing as dust covered quite a lot of surfaces in it, but, apart from the pristine clothes laid on the bed, he could see that his beloved library had been ransacked. He’d once had the walls of his room broken down so he could replace them with his bookshelves; his walls carried some of the most sacred and secret knowledge that a Teyvatian could get their hands on–even to this day. There were volumes missing, some series completely gone. Some of them had been replaced by fake books that had blank pages. 

    His work table, once carrying his documents in a cohesive pattern he’d spent centuries perfecting, had been haphazardly thrown to the ground as if it were trash. The documents it carried were spread out on the floor, soiled by footprints and ripped in places they’d been handled ever so rudely. His reports about Enkanomiya were missing. Seemed like someone fancied themselves a promotion. He opened the door to his walk-in closet and saw that it had been completely emptied out. Good riddance, he’d be pissed if he saw the questionable fashion choices he’d made as an adolescent today, of all days. He left the closet’s door open and wandered into his adjointed private bathroom. It had been readied for him even with various bath salts stationed around the room, overwhelming him with the scent of Sunsettias and citrus. He helped himself to the bath, absentmindedly wondering what the people of Mondstadt would do if they saw him indulging in such luxuries. 

    Baths were unnatural for wind elves, as no substance in Teyvat could get stuck on them long enough for them to get dirty. Even with the new regime, Celestia usually paid close attention to what came in and went out to ensure they wouldn’t upset the scale enough to cause world devastation–they’d learned from the Second War. Those rules or precautions unfortunately did not apply to Barbatos. This bath had seen a lot of things that both it and Barbatos wished to forget.

    He dried himself off with his winds as he took a look at the garment that had been laid out for him. A white chiton that stopped just above his knees and a mint-green himation.  The himation was decorated with ovals and diamonds, most likely an abstraction of wind and time. Barbatos put them on carefully then twirled around and to see his clothing shimmer and ripple. He furrowed his brows at the contradictory statement but shrugged it off as he looped his leather belt around his waist to secure his clothing. He put on the leather sandals provided. He did his hair quickly, staring down at his feet as he did.

    Jorge the Drone was waiting for him, leaning on the wall to the right of the door. It furrowed its eyebrows. “Why was your hair so hideous when you came in if you could fashion it however you’d like?” Barbatos shrugged and the drone didn’t care enough to bother him about it. The two walked to the main chamber in silence. Jorge sped up as they neared the entrance and opened the door.

    “Announcing the arrival of Barbatos, a wind of Time and the Anemo Archon,” 

    The room buzzed with power. Barbatos could feel the weight of the gazes of everyone in the room. He held his chin up and, like a spoiled prince already assured of the crown, strolled over to his seat amongst the Shades–a small chair at the right-hand side of… the Shade of Time’s throne. He bowed to the Shade of Life first, then to Death. He paused at the last remaining Shade’s empty throne but bowed anyway. He’d never seen a Shade miss a meeting. Bad omen, he thought as he bowed to the remainder of the room, consisting of drones and cosmopolites, before taking his seat. The cosmopolites examined him from head to toe, he could hear them whispering excitedly at each other. It was the first time they'd seen an Archon in the flesh and, oh, they were ever so curious to see if a wind elf truly be able to suppress the Gnosis! Ah, no, but this particular elf was a breed of its own, so it should be durable enough. Otherwise, what were the Shades thinking? If they were truly so stupid that they'd give the crown to a fragile creature, perhaps anyone could become a Shade? Barbatos tuned them out, feeling irritation licking at his bones.

    “Give us a summary,” the Shade of Death ordered.

    “Then excuse me for taking a few freedoms,” Barbatos muttered before he shot a grin at his audience. He had become a master of selling half-truths to get his monthly wages, what was just once more? “We thank you for your pateince and your benevolence. The Archons have settled more into their roles and the rebuilding process has been shortened considerably thanks to Celestia’s generosity. Sumeru and Natlan will unfortunately be the last nations to truly recover.” 

    “I was under the impression the Avatar of Irminsul was able to purify most of the corruption,” Ronovo interrupted with a raised hand. “Additionally, the Night Kingdom will be able to cleanse most of the substances.” Her tone got a little funny there, like a student blurting out her shameful affair to an overprotective mother while still trying to seem collected and confident; as if she were justified in this affair. There was some dirt to dig there, Barbatos had to make note of that.

    “Rukkhadevata has indeed managed to purify most of the corruption, so we are no longer in the appropriately named death zone. I do not even find it necessary to remind everyone in this room what she has sacrificed to purify our world. There is still quite a lot of work to do to ensure we are not so easily corrupted again–which consists of examining the remains of that corruption. She’ll have to do this alongside ruling her nation and playing nice with the desert. I’d advise to give her a wide breadth and a bit more time.” He summoned his winds to take the shape of two Celestial Nails at the palm of his right hand as he extended it towards the Shades. “The Night Kingdom, a boon bestowed upon the children of Natlan, is still foreign to its Archon. Xbalanque is planning on an expedition there to try to map it out and see what he can do.”

    “Hm… Do not step foot in Natlan until I give you permission to do so,” the Shade of Death ordered. “An expedition is a good idea, good to see we didn’t entrust the nation of war to a complete imbecile, no matter how... chaotic that process was. What of Inazuma?”

    Barbatos barely kept himself from giggling. What wasn’t wrong with Inazuma, really? Well, it's not like the Shades were going to know anyways. “Inazuma is locked up tighter than a crypt. I’ll need more time to come to my conclusions.”

    “Baal is a coward and not the brightest in the bunch,” Life pondered. “We can wait longer for you to step foot there. The Spirit Lines and Watatsumi Island’s conditions are your first priorities, do not forget. Instead, we want your first contact to become Egeria. That foolish child has done something that cannot be undone.”

    “Before pushing more tasks to him,” Death interrupted. “Why don’t we hear his reports about Mondstadt and Liyue?”

    Barbatos tucked his head down, trying to look ashamed of his lack of progress. He layered his words with the sweet undertone of submission that made him wish to gag. “I am afraid I have not had many interactions with Morax; the Prime of the Adepti is a solitary creature. Liyue is being run by the adepti via Morax’s mandates, which makes it difficult for me to get close without being detected. Mondstadt, however, is thriving. I have built a new temple under my name, which the humans are maintaining quite well. The humans are also ready to trade with other nations." Here, he smiled proudly, as if he'd found a solution to all of his woes. "Thus, I have seen it fit for their first contract to be made with the God of Contracts. Would it not be the perfect excuse to get more rapport with Liyue?”

    “You, as the Archon, should be making those trades for them,” Death pressed.

    “Are we forgetting what happened to Decarabian? If you do not give humans a job, they will find a job; and we will not like it. Let them play house with their play money, give them the illusion of autonomy. It’ll only make them that much more passive and easier to control.”

    The Shades considered his words for a moment. Barbatos kept his smile on his face, hoping to all fuck it had not lost its sincerity and puppy love.

    “Change Mondstadt’s trajectory,” Life finally instructed. “Your nation’s first playmate will be Fontaine–the Principles know that the humans there need a job to do. Drag them across the ocean kicking and screaming if you have to. The public portion of the meeting is over, all cosmopolitans are asked to exit the hall.” Ah, of course, he'd figured Life would wish for the reunification of her supposed children sooner rather than later, and guarantee the submission of both nations at once. It just so happened that this centruy, Barbatos' own plans perfectly coincided with hers.

    Death looked amused. Once the hall had cleared, she turned to him with a smirk on her face. “Has Time ever told you that you have a real knack for this?”

    “You are far too generous," Barbatos chuckled as he shrunk to himself with false modesty.

    “No, we are not. There has not been Time for a long time and you have truly grown into its duties without even seeking acknowledgement or the title. It is about time our debts to you have been cleared.” Death summoned hauntingly familiar documents in her hand–the ones missing from his room. He’d thought it had been some drone that had stolen them. Barbatos wasn’t even given time to register his horror before Death continued. “These documents were given to me by an overzealous drone. Considering Time’s… mental condition at the time, as well as your duties, we have seen it fit to leave the past behind us. Barbatos, we wish for you to become the Master of the Thousand Winds. In fact... Due to a few unforeseen conditions, we have decided to give you the blessings required for you to become a smaller Shade of Time.” 

    The elf took a step back, his heart skipped an excited beat. He did not even attempt to hide the tremor in his voice. “I… I couldn’t... I am no Descender.” Could it truly be this easy? Could he actually get a piece of that throne now? What happened to make them so desperate for a new Shade? He doubted that those reports he'd written about Enkanomiya would disappear so quickly with such a grand promotion, he'd have to prepare adequately for that as well. He'd wished to go to Fontaine to try to see one of his oldest companions, hear her opinions on the New World in a private setting but perhaps something catastrophic had happened in Fontaine... He had to get there as soon as he could.

    “You were created from the flesh of one, just as we were created from the Phanes. You fit the criteria. Do you accept the position?”

    “If it is not seen as too ambitious,” Barbatos said, with hesitance he was barely able to adhere to. As if evolution had not been taken from all of them, then handed to them once they'd wagged their tail enough, committed just enough atrocities as if it was supposed to be a blessing. “Yes. It has always been my wish to continue Time’s legacy, to strengthen Teyvat’s ties to the Heavenly Principles.”

    Life nodded, “Only through the Principles can Teyvat truly be safe,” her eyes got a bit distant, remembering the days of war in the far past. “You have seen how horrid the Sovereigns truly were with your own eyes.”

    “They become such vile beasts when they get even a bit of power,” the elf agreed, simply because he had to. “The Archons are still a relatively new organisation, they need to be taught the Principles and the truth about the Sovereigns.” Indeed, they would all be taught the truth. Once Barbatos finally found a way out of his constraints, once Teyvat could withstand the incomprehensible Abyss, he would personally recount each and every bit of this world’s history in all of its uncensored, gory details. Until that fateful day…

    “Come, Barbatos. There are certain blessings you need.”

    He’d content himself with small victories. Once he’d acquired the needed blessings, his home and his tribe would never be taken from him ever again.

Chapter Text

    “Little wind elf,” the harsh voice of a tyrant called out ever so softly, soothing his voice to not startle his little charge. “You are so brave, so ambitious for your size. Time has not been kind to you, has it? It’s okay. Rest for a little more.” The surroundings felt familiar. The scent of frost and wildberries filled the air, coating him like a comforting blanket. The air was fresh, without the buzzing corruption that had been chipping away at his psyche. The tyrant continued, his voice taking on a far-away tone, as if he was aware he was being listened to but wished to ponder on his own. “I do not care if my children hate me. They may curse my name for their entire lives, they may wish vengeance upon me until they drop six feet under. At least they will have enough breath in their lungs to waste on hatred. Remember this, little elf, no matter how this ends: We will only ever be free once the Sovereign comes back for us.”

    Barbatos’s words were weighed by his exhaustion. “The Sovereigns have abandoned this world.”

    “... Little Elf, let me tell you my favourite story,” The tyrant took a large swig from his silver chalice, “About a forest and its denizens…”

    “My Lord,” a loud voice interrupted. Barbatos scrunched his nose, trying to focus on the story he had been curious about, but the tyrant’s voice was getting more and more distant. “My Lord,” it insisted. The tyrant’s lips were moving but no sound came out. Barbatos wanted to growl at the intruder to shut up but he could only manage a weak whimper. “Barbatos!”

    Venti crashed into consciousness, gasping to try to get more breath into his lungs. He summoned daggers into his hands and blindly charged to the direction of the voice with a rush of anemo behind him. His body crashed into a solid object as he immediately wrapped his legs around it, twisting his body, taking advantage of the air he’d thinned and gravity, and pushed his opponent to the ground. He curled his lips to show off his sharp teeth. He sunk his daggers into the flesh underneath him to get a better grip to his position and opened his mouth to sink his teeth in where the body ran hottest.

    “Barbatos! Barbatos, it’s me, Dvalin!” the voice shouted. “Barbatos! You’re in Mondstadt, you’re safe, no one can get you here!” The elf was not snapping out of it. “It’s me, Dvalin, your loyal friend, your loyal wind!” The body underneath the elf had been pliant, relaxed, careful not to aggravate him even as the dragon bled. Barbatos finally snapped out of it once he realised no one was fighting back.

    He looked at his hands, covered with the green life source of the dragon he had helped to raise. He heard a buzz somewhere in the distance, his mind empty and his body numb but steady. It felt like time flowed with the viscosity of honey. He pulled out his daggers and gathered pure anemo energy to create more blood and mend the flesh he’d torn.

    “It’s the fog of war,” Dvalin was trying to soothe. “See, Barbatos? You’ve fixed it so well. I feel better than ever, I love the feel of your winds. Every veteran has their days. I’m durable.” 

    “I’m sorry,” the elf muttered. He surveyed his surroundings. 

    “It’s okay. You suddenly barged in after your meeting in Celestia and fainted on the throne,” Dvalin explained. “I didn’t wish to disturb you… However, today is the day that the diplomatic envoy sails off. You need to go with them.” Ah, has it truly been so long? He’d slept for about two years, then. Good thing the weather had already been regulated, this whole situation would have become an even worse disaster otherwise. He'd told the nobles about how he likely wouldn't turn up for a few years once he ascended too, but he'd have a lot of prayers to catch up on...

    Barbatos nodded as he finally got off of Dvalin, satisfied that it at least seemed like nothing had happened. “The next time I charge at you unprovoked, you will lay me flat to the ground and wait for me to regain my senses,” he ordered. What a fucking great way to start off a diplomatic journey, gold stars, no notes. 

    “Barbatos, I would never dare to use your winds against you.”

    “They are yours by birth right.” Dvalin broke eye contact but Barbatos could feel a gentle breeze enveloping him, gently stroking through his hair and his bare skin, aiming to soothe. The elf suddenly found the gentleness unbearable. He spread out his arms and sneered, “Why aren’t you attacking me? Come on, you’ve finally got the excuse you wanted, the Usurper finally attacked you! What, afraid that I’ll kill you? Fucking face me! I know that you know exactly why I went to Celestia! I know you can feel your Authority right here, why aren’t you trying to take it back?” 

     Dvalin turned back to him. Something about the dragon’s gaze filled with pity made his muscles go taut, made himself ready to attack again. “You have taught me everything I know,” Dvalin uttered. “I will not abandon you.” Pathetically, that was what snapped something in him. Barbatos felt his limbs fail him as he crashed into the ground with a strangled cry. Dvalin, finally sensing that the anxious and overwhelmed energy that had been surrounding his Archon dissipated, deemed it safe to silently coil himself around the crying elf.

    “Fontaine, here we come!” Venti cheered just a few hours later as the ship they were on set sail, his bright grin helping to ease the nerves of his children. Venti could still hear the children they’d left behind on the port cheering excitedly, though the humans in the ship were not that sensitive to the soundd carried by the wind. “There will be a small gathering of Marechaussee Hunters, court officials and the Hydro Archon to receive us. We will be on their home turf but do not feel intimidated. I trust that everyone has read up on the etiquette, culture and history of Fontaine?” There were shouts of affirmation from not just the four delegates and their escorting warriors who’d be the main event, but from the crew in charge of the ship as well. Venti giggled at how cute they all looked. 

    “My Lord,” Otto Gunnhildr called out. Venti raised an eyebrow at him and gestured at him to continue. “Our Lord is one who can ride the omnipresent Wind wherever and whenever he pleases, why… are you sailing with us?”

     Venti played heartbroken, covering his open mouth with a dainty hand. “Oh my, am I unwelcome?”

    “Of course not, Lord! Forgive my lack of finesse, I swear to you it is not inherent. We were just wondering.”

    “This will be the first time the children of Mondstadt will step into foreign land,” Venti mused. “I wanted to be with you, every second of the way, in this exciting yet no doubt frightening moment in history. Besides, why would I not want to show off just how comfortable my children and I are while working with each other?

    He was met with wet eyes and beaming grins that were impossible to not reciprocate, even with the half-truth that he had fed to those golden hearts. Otto saluted to him as he bid his thanks, and the human delegates went to the corner to begin quizzing each other on whatever they remembered about how the nobility in Fontaine conducted themselves. It appeared that a reminder of their Archon’s faith in them had lit a fire in their bellies. Venti tuned them out, not wanting to invade their privacy unless necessary, and turned his gaze to the sea. 

    He had indeed wanted to sail alongside his children just to bear witness to such a hopeful event, yes, but there was the fact that Venti was not able to ride his winds to any of the nations unless the Archons allowed him to. The first time with Morax had actually just been him testing his limits and then disguising it as an intentional diplomatic greeting, but he’d found that no other Archon would open their borders so easily. He still occasionally wondered why exactly Morax had immediately opened up his walls to receive him.

    The cocky bastard probably thought I had been running from an enemy, Venti thought and promptly chased Morax out of his mind. He’d had enough mental breakdowns during the last few hours ago to last him a century, thank you. He kept his thoughts on what he’d have to prepare for Fontaine for the duration of the trip.

    Their ship set dock to the sound of wind instruments and celebratory bells. Barbatos was the first to step foot to Fontaine, followed by the delegates and the warriors were the last. They smiled and waved at the crowd of Fontainians who watched them with sparkling eyes, and then saluted to the delegates who had come to receive them once they finally faced each other. Eight Marechaussee Hunters, four court officials and Egeria, as expected, however…

    “Salute the Archons!” the young girl next to Egeria ordered the crowd, pointing her ceremonial sword to the sky. “Bear witness to this occasion, bear witness to the end of our era of suffering! Tell it to those who doubt the Seven!”

    Ah, this must be the Foçalors he was hearing so much about…

    “Salute the Archons!” Mondstadt’s delegates joined, easily excited by the atmosphere. “Witness the end of our isolation!”

    “Barbatos, so good to see you,” Egeria greeted, a fond twinkle in her eyes. “The yearly Archon meetings are simply not enough for us to pay much attention to individuals.”

    Barbatos nodded and reached out his hand to shake. “Likewise. I must say, you grow more and more beautiful with each century. May I ask about your self care routine?” Egeria laughed and took his hand. The two were overly conscious about the noise of countless humans sketching this very sight as they shook hands politely. Both Archons had donned on their regalia. Barbatos had unfurled his wings and donned on the few scants of clothing at the top and bottom to mimic the clothing of the farmers in Sal Vindagynr, Egeria had on a garment to mimic the toga of the nobility of Remuria. The toga was altered to make it ripple like the waves as she moved and were longer than usual to mimic the tails of Oceanids. He then turned to the young girl beside Egeria, who looked a bit bored now that she had nothing more to say. “And who might be this young lady?”

    The young girl brightened, her mismatched eyes sparkling at being the one addressed. “I am Foçalors, my Lady’s familiar!” She puffed up her chest and Barbatos cooed a bit at her as she obviously wished. “Please, let me lead us all to the office!”

    “You may lead all the delegates and their escorts,” Egeria allowed. “I don’t believe the children would like it if we hovered over their meetings like overprotective grandparents. Let the humans decide their affairs and let us see how devoted they are to their duties, the Archons will join the meeting’s second half.” 

    Foçalors nodded and saluted. “It shall be as the Archons wish. Let us be off! I don’t believe our visitors will know the Aquabus, wouldn’t it be the perfect place to socialise before we sit at the table?” The voices grew hushed as the diplomats slowly left the dock. The Archons smiled and waved at the crowd before they dissipated to their pure elements simply to show off.

    “Ah, it’s been so long since we could talk,” Egeria whined as they materialised in her private quarters. “There are eyes and ears everywhere.” The room was built inside of the ocean, its four walls made out of fortified glass that kept the water away. A curious seal that saw the sprites appear out of nowhere was watching them with fear in its cute little eyes. Barbatos waved at it. The seal was horrified and swam away with an alarmed cry.

    “Hmm, the other Archons aren’t quite close,” Barbatos replied nonchalantly as he began to roam. There wasn’t much here, it was likely a place Egeria ran to when she grew tired and overwhelmed. 

    “I can’t believe Xbalanque!” The Oceanid seethed. “What’s the point of getting the Gnosis if you wish to remain completely mortal? None of the Archons even had time to visit him before he bit the big one! And this deal of making all Pyro Archons humans? What could he be possibly thinking! Divine war doesn’t speed up to catch up to a human’s short life!”

    “That man was… a lot of things…”

    “A quack!”

    “Yes, of course, but an idiot was not one of them. He ensured that he lived long enough to complete his expeditions to the Night Realm and see peace in Natlan.”

    “What is the purpose if his experience and wisdom will become corrupted by time?”

    “I am sure he accounted for it. Do not worry, Natlan will be my next destination. I’ll bring you news of his successor.”

    Egeria sighed, sinking into her bed, as if abandoned by all of her previous energy. She lazily pointed at the only chair in the room, a cushion chair that span three hundred sixty degrees, and Barbatos followed the silent order to sit on it. Seemed like it was time for another topic. "You’ve heard of my sin,” she stated. 

    “It was a bit hard not to,” Barbatos admitted. In reality, the Shade of Life had pulled him to the side after he recieved his blessings to tell him about the sin Egeria had committed. It was, of course, followed by threats of what would happen to Mondstadt if he were to follow in her footsteps. “Why did you do it?”

    “Why does a scientist do anything? I wanted to see if I could. I wanted to know if it was easy or difficult, I wanted to… They can’t just… Isn’t it the same thing as you’re doing?" Ah, the explosive energy was back. She sat up, made herself small and made grabbing gestures at the empty air in front of her out of frustration. "How could they expect me to just sit there as my children begged me so desperately? They were the ones who put those ideas in the Lochfolk's head to begin with! My children allowed for Celestia's reign to extend to these lands, and this is how they repay us?” 

    “I must set the record straight: My situation is very different from yours. I found my kids in the dumpster and just decided to keep them.”

    “Ha, don’t make me laugh! Your loyalty has been shaken since Enkanomiya, Mondstadt buried it. Those kids are meant to be imbeciles who can’t even read and here they are engaged in peace talks. Just how many documents have you been forging since you became an Archon?”

    “You got caught, I did not.”

    “Don’t fucking remind me,” Egeria groaned. “The bitch of a mother has got me in her sight, I can’t even shit without her explicit knowledge! So why hold back anymore? Remus believed he could harmonise souls and escape Fate, he built countless ivory statues for that purpose… I can see that his plan was flawed but I need to get to his point of view first to see where exactly it went to shit and, ideally, avoid it.” She initiated eye contact. “I need resources, I need money, and I need distractions. I feel it in my bones that I will not be the one to break this prophecy but… One of my familiars will. I know she's got what it takes, she just needs the stage set for her.”

    “Foçalors?” Barbatos guessed.

    “The girl is proud and arrogant, she’s got spunk and a sharp wit. I have never seen another being so adaptable.”

    Barbatos sighed, seeing where this was going. “That wit of hers won’t be enough to deceive Fate, she needs tutors. You’ve got science and engineering covered...”

    “... and you’ve got politics and the arts covered,” Egeria continued gleefully. “Besides, it’ll be a good excuse for our humans to socialise more!”

    “The prophecy won’t be coming any time soon,” Barbatos assured her. “They need humans to have complete faith in them, they can’t afford to chuck any more of the nations to some corner.” 

    “Let’s hope nothing forces their hand. Congrats, by the way, you've finally got the full Authority."

    "Thanks," Barbatos replied. "If you're thinking about using it for the Harmony, I am going to have to disappoint you. It's currently under strict regulation."

     "Of course, that'd be too easy... Maybe it'll be useful to Foçalors one day. Now, then, I have heard from the prettiest little bird that Morax and Baal will be having a diplomatic meeting soon! And, hear this, I heard that Morax has found the new Geo Sovereign and made peace with him!”

    "Oh, I can hear the screams already." Barbatos whined. The Shades will not be pleased.

    "That's the thing! Celestia has said nothing!" Egeria hopped up from her bed, a wide grin on her face. She paced around the room. "It is very possible we might have been wrong all along! No matter how old and conservative that rock is, Celestia would have undoubtedly summoned him as soon as they heard the news! A diplomat could not possibly be given this much generosity, we can barely afford to scrape any bit of mercy from those... Anyways, it appears that Liyue has been a blindspot to us all along. We need to shed light on at least some knowledge." She came to a stop at the only bookshelf in the room, filled with board games rather than books, and pulled out a dusty go board. "Well, at least, you do. I can't leave at the moment. Hmmm, it's been so long since I've played any games! Are you going to be joining me?"

    Barbatos hopped up from his chair and sat on the floor, opposite to Egeria, and helped her sort the stones by colour. She pushed the white stones towards him with a giggle, he allowed it with a soft sigh. “Chess would suit us better,” he noted absent-mindedly. 

    “Eh, close enough.” She placed her stone. “What news have you brought me?”

    “The plume appears to have meddled in Natlan’s affairs and gotten itself into trouble,” Venti replied as they played. “I had wished to visit Natlan to investigate its Night Kingdom and phlogiston and now, my visit seems a bit more dire. Such a shame I missed Xbalanque.”

    “Ooooh, so what’s the plume’s sentence?” Egeria sneered as she captured a string Barbatos had wished to make into a group. 

    “I am not privy to their internal affairs. They seem confident of their standing in Sumeru and Natlan, though, so I suppose they might have decided that the end justifies the means. I still have no idea what is going on with Shneznaya and they do not seem keen to know as well, do you have any idea why?” 

    Egeria worked on expanding her territory. “It might have to do with Saleos’ favour. I heard that it has something to do with the Abyss but my children can’t get too close to any of the fissures that appear in Snezhnaya for obvious reasons.”

    “Why would an Archon be so focused on the Abyss? Are we sure she isn’t like us?”

    “Might have to do with what happened there during the Archon War. I heard that she was forced to kill her lover in the war so perhaps she’s searching for a cure to corruption?”

    “A commendable effort but why endanger the nation? Those fissures will only grow more unstable with time. Does she want Snezhnaya to become the next Gurabad?”

    “She might have no idea about what she’s messing with, do not forget that we are exceptions in Teyvat. We need to figure out how to get close enough to her for our warnings to mean anything to her.”

    “She keeps going on and on about this new organization she’s been wanting to make, that might be the best opening we can get. I never thought that the spoiled princess would be this hard to get a read on.”

    “I know, right?” Egeria hissed when Barbatos managed to surround her group. “You sneaky bitch… The Archons are a strange bunch. However, I did manage to get a bit closer to Baal in the meantime. She’s a total sucker for her sister and her sister’s a sucker for sweets”

    “Are the Spirit Lines still a mess? What’s Watatsumi Island up to?”

    “You know the state of their Spirit Lines better than most. However, it is safe to assume they'll get the job done as long as they remain loyal to Celestia. Why don’t you send a few wind elves as extra help?" Egeria smirked, obviously meaning ill. "Watatsumi Island is still getting used to their position as a puppet state. They are such a blood-thirsty bunch, they still wish to go to war and take over Narukami Island.”

    “I mean, they must be starving,” Barbatos mused, feeling protective over them. “It’s not their fault they were forced upside with quite literally nothing to live off of. Does their Archon know why Orobaxi fell?”

    “It’s not as if they’ll ever say it if they do. They’ve begun to send over food and medication to Watatsumi by using Kannazuka Island as a tampon.” 

    “You are far better at this espionage business than I am, why am I the tutor?”

    “I’m currently ahead because I use humans, not my element. You should try it.”

    Barbatos would rather commit suicide than use the children he had made into orphans, but he could not exactly say that. “Mondstadt is different from Fontaine. My children have never encountered danger or true war, they have no self-preservation instincts or the need to hide. They let me into their nation just for saying I was summoned by their wishes! Do they even realise how ridiculous that sounds?”

    “To be fair, nobody thinks wind elves are intelligent enough to be malicious.” Egeria grinned brightly as she passed her turn and handed over a hostage she’d taken. “Don’t you always take advantage of that, oh youngest Archon? How did you even convince everyone of that? By the way, that string is dead.”

    Barbatos desperately tried to prove her wrong as he kept moving. “No, it is not, shut up. A lot of wind elf tribes in Dragonspine were disturbed by Decarabian and Andrius’ war, so the only thing I really had to do was to pretend I was born there–their assumptions did the rest.” 

    “They really did not question it further?” Egeria huffed at his pathetic display and advanced towards the dead string in an attempt to bully him into submission.

    “Nope,” Barbatos handed over the two pieces with a pout. Egeria handed him another prisoner and declared the end of the game.

     “You're good at expanding your territory but you lack the drive to take hostages, oh dearest brother,” the oceanid sang. “Someone’s going to look really close, one day, and suddenly all of those lies will come crumbling down.” 

     Where did you get this, a voice growled in his mind, commanding and deep. No Archon or wind elf would be given this without good cause!

     “I dread to think of such a day,” was Barbatos’ only reply.

Chapter Text

    “... Rex Lapis!” Cloud Retainer was babbling, “Do you hear the words this One is saying? Those square cups are too hard to clean! They are hard to grasp as well! Why, in all seven corners of Teyvat, have you decided that these are shapes that cups ought to be? What is wrong with normal cups?”

    Rex Lapis took a sip of his tea from his square cup as he slowly came back to the present day, he’d been too caught up in his thoughts of a few economical ventures for Liyue’s future. Would sharing a few assets of the mora mint with his children get them a bit more involved in trades with the other nation? Food for thought, certainly... “These are normal cups,” he defended his kitchenware, feeling strangely a bit offended for their sake, “They are in a normal shape commonly found in nature.”

    “Gems and rocks come in such angular shapes! Gems and rocks! Not cups! What will be next? Would you rather eat out of a, what, diamond shaped bowl? Do not! This One sees that look in your eyes, don’t you dare even consider it!” 

     “My dearest friends,” Rex Lapis said smoothly, causing the crane to ruffle her feathers. It was the same exact tone he used when writing some… more uncouth contracts, “Do you not believe that unconventional china makes for a tastier meal?”

    Cloud Retainer’s vindictive cry of, “So you do agree that it is unconventional!” was unfortunately drowned out by Mountain Shaper, Moon Carver, Sea Gazer’s enthusiastic agreements motivated purely by their survival instincts. 

    The Prime of the Adepti shot his loyal warrior a smug grin, spreading out his arms to declare his victory as Streetward Rambler tried to calm down Cloud Retainer. “Please, Cloud Retainer, you know how particular the Lord is about his cups.”

    “This One cares not! You never do the dishes!“

    “Heavens know you need to do something other than tinkering in this hermit shell of yours, this One is helping you flex your cramped muscles!” No, she just despised touching anything she saw as dirty. 

    Moon Carver had apparently decided he was feeling like getting beaten up today, since he decided to jump into the argument just as Cloud Retainer had opened her mouth to reply. “Yes, Cloud Retainer, since when have you had so many difficulties with dishes? This One would have thought an Enlightened One such as yourself had already automated the process.”

    “There are limits to One’s inventions,” Cloud Retainer seethed. “Such as getting the dirt out of those tight corners.” The crane’s vengeful eyes met Rex Lapis’ once more, trying to send the very subtle message: ‘Do not bring those square cups here ever again… Please.’

    “One must always seek to demolish their limits,” were Moon Carver’s wise words before Cloud Retainer lunged at him. 

    Rex Lapis asked Streetward Rambler for more helping of the tea as he watched his adepti squabble like children while the ones who were not a part of the fight dug into their pockets and grabbed the artefacts they’d collected over the years to bet on the outcome. They all playfully jeered at each other to add more fuel to the flame and get more entertainment for themselves. Rex Lapis subtly placed a pouch of precious gems in Streetward Rambler’s hand and watched her fondly sigh as she trotted off to place his bet in front of Sea Gazer, who had apparently declared himself as the peddler of all bets and was now provoking everyone to add more to the pot. He could see the adeptus’ mouth water at the sight of the riches in front of him. Ha, and they called him a hoarder! He chuckled to himself.

    This was peace. 

    Ah, but peace required so much upkeep. Rex Lapis soaked in the light and airy atmosphere for only a moment longer before he discreetly excused himself. He’d have never thought this new position as an Archon would keep him just as busy as his last one but this new life of his had been filled with so many surprises he didn’t even know why he was even bothering to try to keep his apathy intact.

     “I am sure an old man such as you knows exactly how it looks when you stand so calmly in Starsnatch Cliff.”

    One of those surprises was apparently a lot closer to him than he had accounted for. He should have felt suspicious the second those words had come out of such an unsuspecting pair of lips but, pray tell, who’d have caught it? All wind elves possessed familiarity towards Istaroth, a natural consequence of her creation of the Thousand Winds; was Rex Lapis truly such a fool for letting the remark slide past himself? Now, all the inconsistencies had piled up: A wind elf who adapted strangely quickly to ruling a nation, who had no problems with socialising to a strange plethora of species, who not only had a peplos in his closet but knew to act ignorant when questioned about it. A wind elf who’d dare to call him out for his grave invasion of written borders in Starsnatch Cliff that had been successful only because the one to defend it was no longer ‘present’. How curious... It appeared that Rex Lapis was not the only one who'd gotten a demotion.

    He had overreacted when he’d seen the garment in Barbatos’ closet, he would admit that readily. But could the elf truly not see that his words, as… reckless as they might have been, had been out of concern? Rex Lapis had not meant for them to come out so wrong. Before then, he’d seen Barbatos as a wind elf with dreams too large for such a small and fragile body, and the similarities between him and Guizhong had just kept piling up and up and up in the decade they’d worked together. He had let the memories blind him. The image of the Abyssal corruption running through her veins, spreading through her body; her screams until Rex Lapis had finally managed to move his limbs and…  

    Now, if only the wind elf would allow them a moment of privacy during the yearly Archon meetings and not construct those walls of snowstorms whenever he approached so Rex Lapis could apologise sincerely. The elf still owed him a walk and a private song, a song that now Rex Lapis was more than a little determined to collect; wasn’t the God of Contracts being so very kind and generous by allowing that little wind sprite to escape those dues for so long? Surely Rex Lapis deserved just a bit more than a cold shoulder? Ha, whatever. Things had a way of working out in the Lord of Geo’s favour, he just needed to stay patient and an opportunity would inevitably introduce itself.

    Well, on a more positive note, he had a plan that would help him secure Liyue’s future. The fallout was going to be quite dramatic, he could even hear the screams of outrage in the very near future as if it were happening now. Most of the Archons would probably begin to question his judgement once it became public news. But he had not gotten to this position by making the safest or the sanest moves, and he felt like it’d become a trend amongst Archons once they felt safe enough to judge his actions impartially.

    “Rex Lapis,” a voice broke through his musings as Rex Lapis wandered his land, waiting for a very specific fateful encounter. This was not that encounter but he had anticipated this one as well. 

    “Xiao,” he greeted with a smile, “what winds brought you before me?”

    The warrior straightened from his bow. “Winds from Mondstadt,” he replied. He looked healthy, Barbatos must’ve serenaded him again. Rex Lapis found that the initial jealousy he had once felt about this budding relationship between Barbatos and Xiao gave way to warmth in his heart ever since he had seen how the elf took care of Mondstadt, as his children. It gave Rex Lapis hope that the elf had taken a child of Liyue under his wing. “The nobility have declared that a diplomatic trip to Fontaine has been planned. They will set off to the Land of Justice in four months’ time.” The yaksha seemed to not believe the words that came out of his own mouth. He furrowed his brows and shot Rex Lapis a conflicted look. “Rex Lapis, I am aware that the Archons view a grander image than we do, but… Fontaine? We have not yet had the grace of being invited to Mondstadt or inviting them, is this not backwards?” Of course, Xiao was far too grateful to the Anemo Archon to suggest that this move could be seen as an insult to Liyue, only taht the sequence of events were... skewed. 

    And indeed, this was an insult, but it had not been meant for Liyue. It was meant for the Archons. Barbatos and Egeria were now actively making the judgement of their humans equal to their own and, no doubt, both of the Archons would show this diplomatic meeting off in the yearly Archon meeting to ensure the Archons who’d want to keep that news to themselves could not censor it out of fear of being seen as a tyrant by their citizens. They were effectively forcing the progress onto the entirety of Teyvat. Natlan would no doubt be overjoyed with this news, making it a likely candidate for being Mondstadt’s next diplomatic venture–and thus would the Nation of War, isolated due to its unique ley lines, be able to socialise with Teyvat and become an active player in its politics. Sumeru would likely be in favour as well, though with a bit more restrictions due to Rukkhedevata’s personal duties. Shenznaya was a mystery still, despite all the group meetings; Seleos preferred to keep to herself and rarely ever asked for advice or news. They only knew about a certain organization she was working on, but no details as to its purpose or its designation. 

    Hmm… that left one other nation…

    The vexatious little sprite may have a head start but that didn’t mean Rex Lapis couldn’t catch up and make his life harder in the process. A Wind of Time and the Original Ocenaid, those brats would pay for trying to insult him. “It does appear backwards, does it not?” He made a show of being confused and putting a hand to his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. Xiao bought the act and stiffened. Morax kept his smile off his face as he sighed. “I am sure it was the Anemo Archon’s soft heart getting the better of him. Everyone has heard of Egeria’s recent hardships, he must have decided to go to Fontaine first to try to help alleviate her worries. Otherwise… I might have to question his intentions.” 

   “Give me my orders, Rex Lapis,” was Xiao’s only reply. The poor boy was far too easy to manipulate once he trusted someone wholeheartedly. Rex Lapis had sworn to himself that he would not use that trust for any violence once peace had been declared. If that meant he had to use the Vigilant Yaksha as a carrier pigeon rather than the spear he’d so love to skewer a certain elf with, so be it. 

    “Report to Streetward Rambler, say the exact things to her as you have said it to me,” he ordered. He paused, acting as if he were still thinking, and finally said, “Also, send word to Ganyu that we should follow our neighbour’s example and expand our horizons. I have heard that Inazuma is lovely this time of year.”

Chapter Text

    The Geo Sovereign had not been that hard to find, especially as a whelp that knew not the dangers of the new world. He’d been blind, such a tiny little being that had caused such great earthquakes as it moved the earth. Rex Lapis did not know if the Geo Sovereign was originally designed to be a blind, underground dwelling creature nor did he know any Teyvatian dragon’s biological development milestones but he had still made the split second decision to interfere and give the whelp an eyesight. Teyvat had already been irreversibly tampered with, what was once more? Especially when the whelp has asked so nicely to him? Good behaviour should be rewarded.

    “You are a Usurper,” the whelp told him, about six months into their sort of relationship. Huh. So the rumour of Sovereigns inheriting the memories of their predecessors was true… How fascinating the Irminsul was. The whelp was also growing quite fast for an immortal being. It appeared to be a Teyvatian pattern, most of the creatures in this world matured faster than he was accustomed to; some of the creatures were even born fully mature, like wind elves. This was not the first time that Rex Lapis had been curious as to what the true ecosystem of this world had been before…

    “Yes,” Rex Lapis answered, waving away unimportant thoughts. “Do you hate me?” 

    The whelp tilted his head, staring into Rex Lapis’ eyes. “I know what you have done.” The Geo Lord nodded solemnly, waiting for his verdict. No matter what the whelp decided, it was important for this decision to be made without Rex Lapis defending himself or Celestia’s rule–the Sovereigns had to come to their own conclusions about the current state of this world and the existence of Archons. Sure, if the whelp declared him guilty now, it’d take far more work and time on Liyue’s end to make peace; but this was nothing more than a necessary sacrifice. “Why did you give me eyes?”

    “You wanted them.” 

    “Do not lie to me, I will make you regret it,” the whelp narrowed those same eyes he had gotten as a gift. “What do you want from me? You have my Authority, you have my land, you have already corrupted my denizens beyond recognition. Where does your greed end, God of Commerce?” And yet, the dragon still wished to act prideful and interrogate his oppressor. A dragon’s pride was both a strength and a weakness to the species, that same pride was one of the key factors that had lost Teyvat the original war. Well, it appeared that an opportunity to bond had finally come, seeing as this was a trait that Rex Lapis shared with the Sovereigns.

     Rex Lapis relaxed his shoulders and unearthed a boulder to rest his back. They had been having a nice picnic in a mountain near the Guili Plains, one of Rex Lapis’ frequent haunts when he wished to relax after a tiring day. The planning of the diplomatic meeting with Inazuma turned out to be far more of a nightmare than he’d thought, seeing as the humans had immediately jumped to participate if only to move their own trade along. The prayers for his adepti to sort through had almost quadrupled as merchants began to pray to be chosen so now Rex Lapis himself had been forced into the position of choosing who was worthier of it–and, of course, this would eventually lead to the birth of a government body as these humans would be seen as those who possessed Rex Lapis’ personal seal of approvement. There was absolutely no way that Liyue would have a government that he hadn’t personally vetted and seen as safe, unlike some people, so he had his job cut out for him. This interrogation was not helping his exhaustion. He took a sip of his tea from his favourite cup, a cube-shaped cup that had been carved from archaic stone, and finally decided he needed to be completely honest if he wanted this plan to work as smoothly as possible. “Before I answer your question, I need us to be on the same page. Can you tell me what I am?”

    “... You are a Usurper.”

    “Yes, I possess a Gnosis, but can you tell anything beyond that?”

    “I have misused my words,” the whelp looked bashful. Despite the wisdom that had been loaded into its brain (Did it even work like that with Teyvatians? Well, Rex Lapis would probably find out for himself, soon enough...), the dragon was still getting used to the new language that had taken hold in Liyue. “You… come from beyond.”

    “Yes,” Rex Lapis replied. “Allow me to be frank about any thoughts you may have before we move on: I may also be a dragon but you would not be able to order me around even if you were to have your Authority.” He finished his tea and poured himself more. The Sovereign had not touched his. “As for why I am doing any of this,” he gestured to the distance between the two of them with his cup, “it is actually something any creature can relate to: Fear of the unknown.”

    “What would you need to fear other than us?”

    “The natural order of any world is a functional food chain, is it not? In the Old World, the dragons used to be at the top of the food chain. So, would we say that the Old World did not have internal skirmishes? Territorial disputes that the Sovereigns could not attend to, crimes as petty as shoplifting and as grave as assault; all done by dragons to dragons? Of course we would not. As long as intelligence exists, cruelty and injustice will always be right around the corner. Life is just that unfair.”

    “An invasive species, however, does not play by the rules of the native forest.”

    “Indeed. The best way to avoid internal conflict is to start an external one; however, I ask you, what happens when that external conflict no longer exists?”

    “Intelligence reigns supreme.”

    “The New World has been established and become the rule. I ask you, Sovereign, if a tree falls in an uninhabited forest with no one to hear or see it, has the tree truly fallen?”

    “There is no uninhabited corner in this world,” the Sovereign replied. “If no one lives there, a wind elf does. There are laws and duties not even Usurpers can change.” Huh. Rex Lapis filed that information in his brain for later.

    “Indulge me for a moment.”

    The dragon thought for a little while. “The tree has still fallen. There are laws that no one can change.“

    “Indeed,” Rex Lapis replied. “Which is why I wanted to establish a relationship with you. I gave you eyes because I wanted you to see this world and judge it to your own standards. I wanted you to see this nation I have built and ponder upon it. I wanted you to look at me, so I can see my own reflection.”

    “Then look at me, Rex Lapis, and see yourself for what you are.” 

    Rex Lapis straightened and turned his whole body towards his companion rather than the scenery of a past robbed from him. His reflection was tinted in gold in the dragon’s gaze, the earring that had forever lost its pair swung sweetly in the breeze. 

    The dragon smiled. “I never picked out a name for myself. Why don’t you do it and let it be our contract?”

    “Azdaha,” the dragon from worlds beyond, breathed out and signed away yet another bit of identity that was still left of his past.

Chapter Text

    “Inazuma welcomes you, Lord Morax,” Baal greeted with a smile. She and her sister, Ei, bowed gracefully, which Rex Lapis and Ganyu returned. “Ah, and this beautiful qilin beside you must be Ganyu. What an honour it is to meet at last.”

    Ganyu’s face flushed when directly addressed. “Oh, no, please; the honour is mine, Lady Baal! We are so grateful for your generous invitation!”

    Morax took control before Ganyu’s embarrassment overpowered her diplomatic etiquette. “We are the honoured ones, really; how many beings can say that they have had the privilege of meeting the famous Ei?” He shot a polite smile at Ei, hoping to make the atmosphere a bit friendlier to ease his adeptus. Ei’s face remained aloof but she still bowed slightly in recognition of the compliment.

    “Thank you, Lord Morax. Allow me to escort you to our meeting room,” Ei said when she straightened and turned on her heel to lead the group. Baal giggled a bit as she urged Morax and Ganyu to follow along.

    “My sister is not very good at socialising,” Baal explained quietly. “Please show her patience.”

    “Worry not, there is not one being below heaven who excels in every field,” the Geo Lord assured. They walked the rest of the way in silence and he used this time to feel deep underground, where Inazuma’s Spirit Lines lay. He exhaled as he burrowed deep, taking care to not make any sudden movements that would get Baal on high alert. He knew his consciousness was getting close to the Lines when his fingertips were overcome with a fuzzy feeling, as if he were petting a live wire. However… The Spirit Lines, if he remembered correctly, were supposed to be containing the electro energy within itself; like a wire contained within an isolating plastic covering. If it were exposed enough for Morax to feel it, it would not only waste the energy it should be spending to purify the lands but also allow for the corruption it already had in its system to escape and wreak havoc once more. Just how did Inazuma manage to rebuild with such a threat looming right before them? Why would they not postpone normalisation when the threat underneath was going to make everything revert back to chaos anyways? Baal had never seemed especially quick on the uptake but surely, in order to become an Archon, you had to have something up your sleeve… Was Ei the true leader here?

    “Please, have a seat,” Baal encouraged and Morax immediately withdrew from the Spirit Lines. He smiled politely and sat on the cushions provided next to the square table, Ganyu sat opposite to Ei while the Archons faced each other. 

    Now, then, to try to fish for some information… “Normalization has been a most arduous task. I am ashamed that I have not been able to lend you any support and yet cannot help but marvel at the might of the Electro Archon and her subjects. You have made a beautiful nation.”

    Baal waved a dismissive hand. “You are far too humble, Lord Morax, it was thanks to your financial system and the yearly meetings you have arranged for the Archons to socialise that the seven nations have been able to pick themselves up at all.” Morax felt himself go stiff. 

    It had been Barbatos who’d arranged the meetings. Was this a test? If it were, what exactly would Baal be testing with that lie? To try to see if Morax was greedy enough to discredit fellow Archons? Surely the Seven knew each other better than this… Now that Morax thought about it a bit more, back then, why had Barbatos arranged the meetings to be done in Liyue and not in Mondstadt? Morax had not particularly thought much of Barbatos’ actions back then, thinking that he was dealing with some orphaned wind elf with more dreams than strength, but now that he knew he was dealing with Istaroth’s heir… 

    “The arrangement of the yearly meetings was a collaborative affair, really,” Morax replied. 

    “Ha, fine, if you are so desperate to credit all of the Archons, then all we can do is accept it; even though all we’ve done is show up. I suppose that was also the logic behind those meetings as well? That the action of one Archon is the action of all of the Seven? I cannot help but admire this line of thinking, to make ourselves one united front. This is exactly what Teyvat currently needs.” Baal hummed and Ei got up to begin serving the table. Ganyu stood up and followed her to help. 

    Either Baal was a great actor, which was still very possible, or she truly did not know. Barbatos had been the one in charge of inviting the rest of the Archons and seeing which dates they’d be available, he’d volunteered for the task and claimed it was only fair. “You are the one opening up your home, I should be the one to arrange the date and guest list!” Why would he lie? 

    “The God-Kings were too fragmented,” Morax agreed, “and far too ambitious. What we need is stability. Our nations share easily surpassable borders, we must be able to depend on each other.”

    “I am so glad that we are seeing eye to eye. I have the feeling that these private diplomatic meetings will become the new fashion, with the trend-setter that you are; and you’ve even brought international trade to our ports!” Ganyu and Ei returned with a few servants shadowing them, their hands full with traditional Inazuman delicacies. They silently set the table. “Thank you all so kindly. Please, Lord Morax, help yourself. The festival our Yashiro Commission has set up in Ritou for this special must be in full swing as well. There are even a few foods here that I have managed to recover from Enkanomiya…” Baal looked around the table before her eyes lit up and she picked up a plate from Ei’s tray. 

    The content in the plate glowed a dark blue, showing off its elemental connection to hydro. It was some sort of vegetable or fruit that had been cut in half. Upon closer examination, it appeared that the outside of the fruit or vegetable was what was emanating that glow, while the inside was a fluffy white, with a few large black seeds showing off their shiny exterior at the bottom, where the fruit or vegetable was adorned with a darker coloured pattern of large leaves. Morax’s breath caught in his throat when he realised what was on that plate. Baal smiled cluelessly. Ganyu and Ei showed no sign of sensing something was amiss. 

    Morax was careful when he finally managed to open his mouth. “I am afraid that despite my long life, I have never seen such a fruit,” he lied, watching out for Baal’s and Ei’s expressions. Baal’s smile only widened and she extended the plate to him with excitement. 

    “How delightful! I have only recently heard it from the people of Watatsumi Island, myself; they told me this is a rare fruit that only their consulate could afford to eat. I only have one and I have been saving it for a special occasion.” That had been an assassination attempt. Was this another one? Surely she couldn’t be this ignorant, right? Surely she knew this could be interpreted as a declaration of war, right? 

    A chilling probability suddenly made its way into his mind, one that he had been so unaccustomed to even considering that he had never thought of it in the past four centuries. He kept his face pleasant, his body language open. He reached out and took one half of the fruit. “It looks beautiful. Have they ever told you the name of this curious fruit?” Baal plucked the other half and placed the empty plate on the table. 

    Ganyu, finished with her duties, finally took note of the fruit. Her eyes widened. “It looks truly beautiful! Are there any records of it?”

    Baal shrugged. “If there are, they were left back in Enkanomiya. Only Time will know.” There it was, the end of a phenomenal act. It appeared that none of the Archons were keen on inheriting the Sovereigns’ straightforward nature. She regarded her servants, Ei and Ganyu with a grin and waved a dismissive hand. “Thank you for your service, you should also take part in my Commission’s festivities. Ei, why don’t you show our guest a good time while these Archons talk of business?” 

    Ei bowed in deference. “Of course, sister.” Ganyu looked to her Archon for a command and, seeing a slight blink of acceptance from him, nodded and allowed herself to be escorted. The door shut with a soft thud. Morax relaxed as he found comfort in being known. 

    “Be honest,” Baal stated, her voice still light. “You thought I was an idiot, did you not?” 

    “I thought you were ignorant. There were a lot of precautions taken to ensure some unsavoury events did not make their way to the surface.” 

    Baal giggled as she once again looked around the table for something. She hummed as she apparently spotted it and then reached out for a bottle of sake. The fruit in her hand was placed on the plate it arrived in as she opened the bottle, held it in one hand as she hunted for sake plates with the other, and poured Morax his drink. “Those precautions failed,” she stated as she poured her own, looking down at her hands, “or, should I say, they finally grew tired of their orders. It came at a heavy cost. I cannot imagine what Inazuma would have had to pay if those precautions had held true.” 

    Morax took a sip out of the least dangerous vice held in his hands. “Inazuma would have lost nothing,” he replied. It was the truth. No need for civil wars, no need to feed and care for refugees, no need to keep a dead nation alive–Inazuma would have been better off. Baal glared at him as if she could hear his thoughts. 

    “I suppose, with that view, you believe that Guili Assembly’s loss is of no consequence to Liyue? It is a rather freeing thought.”

    “Know your place, Baal.”

    “I apologise, I only wished to make you understand what position we are in.” The two kept quiet as they calmed down, focusing on their drinks and the food on the table. Baal was the one who broke the silence. “There used to be only one place in the entirety of Teyvat that wind elves cannot live in,” she uttered. Her eyes held more hostility Morax had seen in the past two centuries they’d been acquaintances. “And even that is due to divine intervention. Now, there are two. Watatsumi Island cannot grow crops, they breathe bad air. If they were to all die one of these days, no one would confirm they ever existed. Is this the price we must pay to live, Lord Morax? Or shall I call you Deus Auri instead? Were it not for the doomed chimes of the clock, our Spirit Lines would have failed.”

    “Celestia would have never allowed for unnecessary deaths. Their only wish was to punish the sinners.”

    “What of the lotus eaters, then? What of the children, what of the people convicted of false crimes? What were their sins? Enlighten this ignorant one, please, I beg of you.” Morax opened his mouth, ready to recite the lines he’d memorised for centuries, and yet his words failed him. It appeared to be a pattern ever since his fight with Barbatos. He desperately tried to find some reason, some logic behind what had happened in the sunken city yet he came up blank. It was obvious what had happened there. It had not been a planned attack, it had been born out of nothing more than pure paranoia and a perversion of the authority Celestia wielded. Guizhong, the beloved Guili Assembly that they had created together, so many gods that he'd killed with his bare hands simply to skim the fat of this world. Enkanomiya had just been discarded as dead weight, no more and no less--no glory, no honour. Had Time not given them a second glance, would Rex Lapis have even remembered their existence? Or would the story of the Chasm have simply repeated itself? Baal took a deep breath and gentled her tone. “You would not be here if you truly believed what you have said. However, it is also hard to give up on your own kin.”

    “I am sorry for your losses,” Morax finally managed to choke out. His chest felt tight, his throat sore. “None of the Seven should have the luxury to turn a blind eye to stories of the common people.” 

    “It was war and it is now history. Enkanomiya was not exactly a sparkling gem of human civilization,” the Electro Archon then lifted her Dragonbone Orb to her mouth and took a bite. She hummed at the sweet taste and swallowed. “An Archon’s duty is to remember and record what their nation cannot, to lead the way to an uncertain future. With this fruit, Morax, I wish to reconstruct our identities and to create the beginning of the end. I cannot do it alone, I cannot etch this occasion in stone; will you help me?”

    The Geo Archon swallowed dryly first. He looked at the fruit in his hands, destined to become a chain around his throat. This fruit’s origins had caused the deaths of nine hundred ninety nine wind elves and a genocide that targeted one and a half nations. He brought it up to his mouth, mirroring the Archon sitting opposite to him, and took a hesitant bite. 

    It tasted of home.

Chapter Text

    Deep below there is a nation that claims to dream, a distorted voice said inside Venti’s soul. Why don’t you show them what a nightmare is? 

    Another voice argued. We can’t leave the mainland, Mondstadt will be left without any ley lines! Venti let them argue, tuning them out in favour of focusing on his own thoughts. The souls trapped inside of him were not new but them speaking certainly was. It would have been overwhelming to any other species but Venti couldn’t stop trilling, feeling more content than he had ever been in the past four centuries; not even the cold he was forced to bear for Mondstadt’s sake could stop his joy. He was perched on the Frostbearing Tree as he took a few precious days of rest to appreciate the fruits of his labour.

    The Ode of Resurrection was finally completely set up. It had come with a few side effects. As he’d expected, he had to make himself the center of Mondstadt’s ley lines so that his Authority could override the natural route of the spiritual power distributed in the mainland (sans Natlan, which was fortunate--a certain Lord of the Night was a nightmare to deal with). This came with the pleasant consequence of all souls born in Mondstadt automatically being controlled by his Authority, a process he’d thought he would have to do manually, but an unpleasant consequence of him becoming unable to step foot into anywhere without ley lines. The power he wielded from becoming the Master of Thousand Wind allowed for him to share all senses with all of the wind elves in the world, which meant his spying was at a level that it could be automated and recorded with perfect details, and had a natural consequence of finally allowing him to hear the souls of his old tribe trapped inside of him. They had, apparently, been conscious all along but unable to communicate with him until Celestia had allowed for the connection.

    When the Ode had been completed, he’d given his tribe the chance to finally rest and become the first ones to join Mondstadt’s brand new reincarnation cycle. They’d refused. He tried very, very hard to not be so pleased by this. They’d promised to not crowd his mind too much, they only ever got agitated enough to speak when they knew he was lazing about.

    “My Lord,” called out a voice. Venti sluggishly opened his eyes as his tribe’s voices abruptly cut off. It was a Warrior. The man shivered in the cold and Venti shrugged off the drowsiness as he sent a few lazy warm winds to warm the Warrior. The man fell to his knees and sent a quick prayer to the Wind before speaking again. “Thank you, Lord Barbatos. I was sent to bring you news from the city: There is commotion in the Court.” 

    “What sort of commotion would require someone to notify me personally and not with a prayer?” Venti asked as he stretched. Mondstadt was nowhere near advanced enough to involve the divine in their courts without Venti knowing about it months before the trials and he’d made sure there weren’t many artifacts humans had access to–hell, he’d even gotten rid of many of the murals that depicted the United Civilisation after what had happened to Orobaxi, hidden them away in a few islands he’d created in the open sea between Mondstadt and Inazuma. The gate to the Abyss was practically the only thing left in this new nation of the Old World, which Barbatos would keep inaccessible until he was happy enough with Mondstadt’s progress. Venti suddenly realised that the warrior was not answering his question and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. The warrior avoided eye contact. “Well?” Venti probed.

    “We… did not allow them to pray,” the man confessed. The winds began to sting his skin with frostbite and he quickly explained, “They sullied your name, Lord! They accused you of being negligent, of being blind! How, then, could we allow them to use those mouths they spewed such hatred with to beg for your help?”

    That trip to Fontaine had done some harm, it seemed. The harsh judicial system Egeria had beaten into her children to ensure their ignorance and blind faith, used as both a tactic for survival and a weapon to wield against Fate, must not be allowed to take root here–Mondstadt was the nation which served as the gate between the Three Realms. They were meant to be gentler than the rest of the nations, be the peacemakers who would serve as competent diplomats. “Child,” Venti made sure his tone was gentle, “I am going to change into my formal regalia. Could you turn around for thirty seven seconds?” The warrior obediently closed his eyes and turned around as Venti allowed for his power to burn the replicated body of the Bard to ash as his Archaic form took its place. He used the winds to dispose of the evidence just in time for the warrior to turn around and bow in deference. Venti hopped off the tree. “Lead the way.” He remained insistent even when the warrior appeared horrified at the idea of leading his Archon.

    That was how they walked all the way to court, with the warrior at the head and Venti following behind as if he were a guest in his own home. He ensured that this image was seen by as many of the common folk as possible, keeping his head held high as the children pointed and whispered amongst themselves; he could hear some of them already running back to their friends and families to share this news. The warrior’s face turned paler and paler until they finally arrived. 

    “Announcing the entrance of our Archon, Lord Barbatos,” the warrior cried out, at the end of his mental fortitude, and immediately took the excuse to return to his original post with a quick bow. He took a look at the courtroom he had helped to construct, sensing the pleasant aroma of the different woods used to furnish and insulate the room. He then took in the humans in the room. He could not see all of their faces, most were bowed too low to greet him, but he zeroed in on the defendants. They were children of Mondstadt. Farmers, judging by their choice in clothing and the scent of fruits and vegetables they emitted. They had been chained to their chairs and gagged. Their eyes begged for their Archon’s mercy. 

    Venti rushed to them, ignoring the rest of the court. The pressure in the room dropped and made the humans’ ears pop. “Who dared?” Venti asked pleasantly as he tore apart the chains with his bare hands, making sure to clang them noisily to overstimulate the humans’ senses. His mind was blissfully blank. He took in his children’s relieved faces and rubbed at their wrists, marked red by the cuffs. This was unimportant in the grand scheme of things, just his children having a spat that had gone too far. There was no need for Barbatos to get mad. Annoyed, sure, but not mad. He was here now. He had stopped it before it got serious. There was no reply from the others, only winces and whines. “Who dared?” he repeated. “I will not ask another time. I will instead ask the wind elves what they bore witness to.”

    Chains that were tied too tight could dislocate joints, prolonged inactivity could melt muscles. Intelligent creatures needed to roam not just for physical wellbeing but for their mental fortitude. If left without different stimulations too long, the mind would grow bored enough to cave in on itself. The voices would be first. Loved ones and strangers you’d thought you forgot; all begging you to pay attention to them. Visual hallucinations would follow slowly. Faces to fit the voices, little creatures of the mind appearing in the corner of your eye. Then hunger. The hunger for food, the hunger for stimulation, the hunger for more hallucinations. Hunger would be the last to come and the last to go, if they were unfortunate enough to escape during this phase. It was best to just stay in the cage by the time hunger rolled around.

    It did not happen to them, Venti reminded himself. It would not happen to these children as long as he breathed. 

    “My Lord,” it was a Ragnvindr who stepped forward. His knees were shaking, Venti noticed absentmindedly. He did not think he had ever seen a Ragnvindr so close to pissing their pants since the rebellion. That one had seen something so very, very unfortunate. Cutting off his tongue* had been so unfortunate. The fact his soul had managed to escape the tribe was also unfortunate. “These sinners have dared to steal the Holy Lyre der Himmel that you have so graciously gifted to us and they have dared still to deny their sins!”

    “Crimes are your jurisdiction, sins are mine,” Venti reminded. He finally let go of the accused and walked to the judge’s bench. The judge, who’d been frozen still as if she were caught underneath the Frost Nail, did not move even when Venti took her place. “Defend yourselves,” he ordered the defendants. There were three, a woman and two men. His brain itched. 

    “We did not steal it!” one of the men immediately shouted. He fell to his knees. “My Lord, you are the omnipotent Wind; you are time, you are the sky. How could your own children who pray to you, who believe in your domain dare to commit such a heinous sin in your nation? The children of Mondstadt are never without wind, we do not even dare wander where dandelion seeds do not scatter!”

    The Ragnvindr was full of accusations. “No child of Mondstadt is necessarily a believer in the Anemo Archon. Our gracious Lord allows us to choose which elements we idolise, which gods we wish to follow; it is not out of the realm of possibility that you could be working for another Lord.” 

    The woman spat on the ground. “Your paranoia is fueling your tyranny! We are but farmers, where would we find the time and place to work with a foreign god? Why would farmers work against the same Archon who grants us the winds we use to feed our families?”

    Venti’s brain itched. Everything about this scene felt so familiar. The hanging prison, a voice inside of his soul reminded him. Everything in the world went still at the realisation.

    “I hear both sides,” Venti announced. He felt his children open their mouths to continue their argument so he took a sword in his hand and used it to smash the judge’s bench to bits. The humans became too preoccupied shielding their eyes and mouth to try to say much of anything anymore. “I hear,” Venti repeated. The screams of a bygone era echoed in his ears. “The nobles have acted outside of their purview. They have seen it fit to chain and gag the children of freedom based upon nothing but accusations. They have not prayed for guidance from their Archon; rather, they have stopped the prayers that are every child’s rights. Noblesse oblige yet they have acted as tyrants. There will be consequences.” He took a steadying breath. “And if these accusations hold weight, then the defendants will face the full wrath of Wind and Time. They will be banished to the windless lands they have the desire in creating.” 

    The farmer that had knelt before their Archon nodded in determination. “I am confident in my faith, I have no reason to fear my Archon! Let the Wind lead!”

    “Everything I have done, no matter if it is wrong or right or anywhere in between,” the Ragnvindr declared, “it is all done for our security. I will accept every consequence as long as everyone in the room does the same.”

    “And so it shall be,” Venti concluded. “I will be personally investigating this matter.”

    It did not take long. The true thieves, just like back then, had hoped that the trial would be causing enough commotion for them to throw caution to the wind. Just like back then, they hadn’t thought the same wind would be tracking down their scents. Just like back then, Barbatos’ sight was tinted red. The blood pooling beneath his feet was familiar, comforting even. There had been five thieves. They had lacked the armour the Black Serpents had been so proud of, he’d simply pulled their heads off of their bodies to get them to stop moving, stop screaming. Inside of their carriage was a replica of the Holy Lyre der Himmel. The thieves back then would have been able to tell this was a replica. 

    Barbatos took the replica with his right hand. A piece of paper fell out. He crouched and took the paper with his left and read what was written on it.

    Be honest, you expected a book to be in here, did you not? I believe we have so much to talk about, Barbatos; especially after our argument. It is your turn to visit me. I will be waiting at the shore of the wine-dark sea**.

    Barbatos let go of the note, let it flutter to the ground. He crouched to one of the humans he would soon make into fertiliser to give to the accused trio of farmers. They had been Treasure Hoarders from Liyue.

Chapter Text

    There lay an area that the children of Liyue were forbidden from entering by Rex Lapis’ orders–and, if those orders hadn’t been enough, the entrance was fortified with adept magic to ensure not even a lost fool with delusions of adventure would be able to find their way here. It was a virgin tomb that’d have raiders and merchants alike positively salivating, acting like beasts rather than humans. Rex Lapis sat underneath the fountain that had once been created to treat every ailment below it, yet he sat alone. He could hear his own breaths echo right back to him. The hilichurls of ages past that had once huddled here for a treatment to their symptoms had long since become a pile of filth. Freedom fighters, lotus eaters, felons, falsely accused… All sinners.

    The air here was stale, recycled garbage from whatever could not escape through the cracks–and then, suddenly, a breath of fresh air that signalled the entrance of the one sinner who could still speak as long as he lied. 

    “Five Treasure Hoarders, three farmers and a Ragnvindr have suffered the consequences of your actions,” was the cold greeting he was treated to. Well, at least the elf was speaking to him. 

    “Hmm…” Rex Lapis took a sip of his jasmine tea he’d brewed with the water of the fountain. “Five Khaenri’ahn delegates, three innocent library workers and the fool who thought he’d get away with it.”

    Barbatos gripped his wrist as he attempted to get a second sip of his tea. It hardly hurt but it did startle Rex Lapis enough to look his companion in the eyes. They were glowing teal. “You broke your contract,” the elf stressed. His cheeks were flushed with anger, his eyebrows were furrowed. Just like in their previous argument, his wings were unfurled; his feathers ruffled with the freezing winds he was summoning from his rage. He’d forgone his traditional Archon garb–he now stood as the only Wind of Time that still lived, his silk chiton and himation in full view, yet his hair was still chopped up unevenly with his two braids swinging freely in the air. So, instead of a band or a coif, he’d chosen to style his hair by braiding precious gems to mimic the stars–a symbol of the ever infinite present moments. “You shall face your own wrath and mine; you broke our contract. You gave me your word you would not use our nations in this petty spat.”

    “Oh, sweetheart,” Rex Lapis softened his tone, his voice sliding past this frigid storm as smoothly as silk. He’d dressed in the gunlóngpáo that Kapisas had designed, his golden hands covered by red silk gloves that went up to his elbows. Unlike the elf, he had no need for his wardrobe to speak of his influence; his nobility came from blood. “Do you not remember how you were the one who used Mondstadt against me?” Barbatos simply scoffed in disbelief, smiling coldly as he let his opponent know just what he thought of this statement. Rex Lapis remained calm in the face of this provocation. “Do you not remember holding that little political dalliance you had with Egeria over every Archon’s head? Of insulting me–of insulting Liyue–by ignoring us?”

    Barbatos’ grip on his wrist tightened as he hissed, “The prophecy hanging over Fontaine’s head is far more important than a few economic pursuits!”

    “Yes, I am quite sure that that was the reason you told all the other Archons in private when questioned.” Now, Rex Lapis stood up. He would never understand why Barbatos would choose a form so unbecoming of a Wind of Time, Istaroth’s sole heir, or an Archon; a short stature, thin little human boy who could not even do his hair to Celestia’s standards. Perhaps it was so that no one would suspect him of being anything other than one of Decarabian’s spawns. But now, even while wearing the garb that gave away his relation to the island in the sky, he refused to change his form. Perhaps it was another form of rebellion? In any case, it was advantageous to Rex Lapis. He towered over the other Archon and then, to bring their faces close, he leaned in by bending at the waist. He still stayed just far enough away that Barbatos had to still look up at him. He kept his volume low. “If that were the case, however, your contract with Egeria would not include the metal and the precious gems that we both well know are one of the only defining characteristics of Mondstadt and Liyue’s relationship. You are isolating my nation on account of its Archon’s actions.”

    Barbatos let go of his wrist, scowling, his eyes narrowed as he tried to calculate a counter. Rex Lapis did not let him get away, instead reversing their roles and gripping that wrist that had hung pathetically in the air now that it had let go of its objective. 

    The pent-up frustration had finally caught up to the dragon. He’d been forced to create a human government on account of this elf’s actions, to pursue a Sovereign and other Archons when, in reality, they should have been the ones seeking him. Just work, on top of work, on top of more work! Up in Celestia, the amount of work would have never bothered him. At Guizhong’s side, it would have at least been fulfilling. Now? In this present moment? 

    “You broke our contract,” Rex Lapis accused. “The contract that you had me sign. You used your own children against me and now you dare to get mad at me when I compensate you for your sins? You know very well that, with the amount of contracts you have broken, I could have done far worse.” 

    Barbatos’ wrist shook beneath his hand. His eyes still remained narrow and calculating but, throughout Rex Lapis’ speech, had gained a spark of something very familiar and very pleasing to the dragon: Fear. Finally, this impudent imp saw what was in front of him.  “How exactly would you prove the contents of the contract Mondstadt and Fontaine have signed?” Ah, it seemed he was going to ask the safer question first. It seemed that the other contracts that Rex Lapis had mentioned he knew about were going to go ignored–as long as Barbatos did not mention them, they’d simply never make a grab for attention ever again. Like a child covering his ears and trying to shirk his punishment. 

    “It was Time who gave you that peplos, was it not?” Rex Lapis countered. 

    “What is it to you?” 

    “She had always been the sentimental kind,” the dragon commented. “She did not have the spine to back it up, of course–but no one can deny her her sentiments. What do you feel about that peplos she gave you?” He leaned in closer, wishing to share the air the elf had suddenly stopped breathing in. Their gazes were locked, the elf’s gaze was still narrowed and shining with a newfound fear. His body had gone completely still, no longer shaking. The wrist inside of his hand was now limp. “Do you think she wanted to spare you? Do you hold on to that theophagy offered as her actual will, rather than her betrayal of selling your body to the highest bidder? If that is indeed your train of thought, would you allow me to tell you a cautionary tale?” 

    “You were the one who stole my reports about Enkanomiya,” the elf realised. 

    Rex Lapis shrugged, uncaring for the correct accusation that no one would ever be able to take to court. “I grew curious once I saw how you treated that peplos,” he admitted, as a treat. “So I ordered a drone to take a look around for me. Do you want the tale or not?”

    “Why do you care? What do you even want?” Barbatos tried to yank his wrist away, Rex Lapis held on tight. The elf treated him to a frustrated scowl. Good, now they were both on the same page. “Why would a Descender ever become an Archon?”

    The fountain they were in front of was a perpetual source of cure in liquid form. Rex Lapis had probably been around back then, when this fountain was first revealed to the lively civilization of the Chasm; but he had never bothered to remember them. He had only learned of their demise from a second-hand source and, until the Archon War, had never even bothered to show up to this crypt. Just as the specters of this dead nation, the two Archons were now a witness to the soothing sound of the life source this fountain offered. Rex Lapis let the sound wash over him, but he doubted Barbatos was in the state of mind to try to calm himself down. So, using the wrist he had in his grip, he threw Barbatos up in the air. 

    Barbatos failed to react fast enough. He crashed into the bottom of the fountain and stayed there, drawn to its unique gravitational pull. His wings and attire were completely soaked through. The elf looked down at him, his mouth open in pure, unadulterated shock. Rex Lapis tightened his fist and manipulated the stone in the fountain to restrict the elf’s limbs and wings before he regained his senses. 

    “I believed a bird of freedom would appreciate the height. Are you comfortable?” The dragon was rewarded a hiss for his efforts, which went ignored. “Our story starts with a young woman,” Rex Lapis began. He retrieved his tea set and sat down on the floor, looking up at his little caged songbird. “This young woman was a part of the nobility but fell short of everyone’s expectations of her. She failed to master the art of poetry, dancing or mastery of sword; she failed to act as a woman her stature must, she failed to refine her culinary taste. Indeed, she’d sooner gorge herself on fat skewers than ever deign to touch Wensi tofu,” the dragon chuckled in a nostalgic fondness. “This young woman was, however, a passionate inventor. She tinkered purely for her own pleasure, paying no heed to what was said behind her back.” 

    “My mother was an exemplary Shade, no matter her intentions with me,” Barbatos growled. Rex Lapis rolled his eyes.

    “What a filial child,” Rex Lapis taunted just because. “But who said this was about her? The woman’s noble parents had had no other children and they worried so terribly about the future of their family, which they deemed would be ruined if left to her hands. They sent countless foreign men to her in the hopes she’d marry. She turned them into pawns, assistants, co-workers, partners, friends, allies–but never a lover. She may not have been what was desired but her mind was sharper than anyone had given her credit for. Then, her parents had an idea. They had a wonderful, awful idea; and they sent one of their closest friends to her. This man infiltrated the nation, just as countless before him had, but with a horrifying difference in mission. The others had been instructed to get her to fall in love, but this man was instructed simply to bind this woman to him no matter the cost or crime. 

    “What do you believe, little bird, this man was thinking of?”

    “A pregnancy,” Barbatos answered, with a surprisingly neutral voice. He had, curiously, not attempted to try to get out of his bindings–and even relaxed his body against them. Of course it would be impossible for him to escape the Geo Authority of the Geo Archon in Liyue, but Morax had expected him to at least struggle for the sake of making his displeasure known. “A pregnancy between two nobles would be enough cause to drag her back to whence she came.”

    Morax grinned at him. “Astute observations! The two inevitably met and he bowed to her perfectly, he made his smiles gentle, he softened his hands–all in preparation of the meal he’d have the second there weren’t any more eyes on them.”

    Barbatos interrupted, “Was he hungry?” His eyes were still now, perhaps due to no longer being in close proximity to an unknown Descender or perhaps from the soothing effects of the fountain. Morax would even be tempted to call him curious. There was no disgust or fear in his face that Morax could see.

    “... No, he was not,” Morax decided to reply. “He infiltrated her proximity first, ensured that the people who’d interact with the young woman the least would speak highly of him. He worked his way up. While he worked, he never managed to encounter the young woman by herself. He did not grow anxious, he’d known it’d be a time-consuming task; he knew that no matter what it took, the mission would be over in a singular moment once the conditions were met.

    “However, the longer his quest took, the longer he was acquainted with this nation she had built. He’d begun to memorise little details–the sparrow hated plain rice, the deer preferred meat to salad, one of the cranes despised sweets with a vengeance while the other one had to have something sweet on their plate or they would simply starve. Little details that made up the whole; the puzzles he solved as a part of his greater duty made such a pretty picture that the man could only stare. It was around that time that the young woman called the man for a private audience. The man obeyed. He went into her study–a place for respite, for her own pleasure and whims alone; and the man knew, in his bones, that this was the day his mission would end.”

    “Glutton.” The wind knocked the tea cup into the floor and Morax watched it shatter. He looked back up at the elf. The wind played with his hair and his clothes, lifting it all up to try to see what they covered. He’d been successful, Morax could see it in the wind elf’s eyes, that the elf had seen what could never be unseen. There was no pure elemental energy to be seen, not even phlogiston as would be expected of the ancient race–no, Morax’s clothes and hair hid a body that had been engineered to house these foreign elements inside of himself. Barbatos began to struggle against his restraints. The winds responded to his helplessness, they thrashed around in this enclosed space without any means of escape. Morax could not help but take a deep breath. It smelled so sweet, like fresh and ripe apples.

    “Yes,” the dragon agreed. “The man looked her in the eyes and smiled. He asked politely what the matter was. Then… she stood up from her seat, grinned brightly at him, and showed off her dress. She had worn a peplos, a white one. It was adorned with precious jewels, her hair had been bound with beads. She asked the man if she looked good, at first; and the man replied she looked like a goddess.” He did not think he’d ever had this fresh of an air, even during the prime times of this civilization. Humanity wasted too much oxygen. “She told him it was a gift but that she did not know from whom it had come nor did she know what it was. She had simply followed the instructions that had come with the clothing to dress herself and grown curious enough to try it out. Thus, she wanted to ask the most mysterious one of her compatriots to solve this mystery for her.”

    The wind elf scoffed, “Ha! So, that’s how the story ends? The monster had been given the signal to consummate his plans, which worked out perfectly, and now we see neither hide nor hair of this young woman?” The binds grew tighter around him, causing him to hiss in pain. The elf met his eyes. The mask of calm had melted away now, Morax could see the naked hatred and disgust all directed at him. This was fine. As long as he was looked at, it would be fine. “I already know how this story ends, Morax, or whatever you are. You’re going to fail if your wish is to intimidate me and you’re going to get yourself killed if it is your wish to harm me.”

    “The man realised,” Morax continued, “that this woman was not cunning as he’d been led to believe. She had not been playing any type of long political game, she did not even realise there was a game to be played. She had seen her countless suitors and simply believed them to be passionate patriots, and the suitors had seen nothing more than a competent leader, a good friend, their last home. None of them realised what was going on. 

    “The realisation had come too late. That day, the man shied away from his duties for the first time. He wished to tell her to take it off, to put it back in its package, to let it rot where the sun would not shine. He did not. He was a coward who wished to both have his original duties and this new home all to himself, free to pick and choose his loyalties whenever he desired. Days passed, the amount of failures to end the mission on his part piled up, the two became closer to each other. Each day she’d ask if he managed to find a clue as to where the package came from and each day he lied. Up until the fateful day when she did not show up, as she usually would. The man grew fretful, a horrible idea blooming in the back of his mind. So he went to her private study. He did not bother knocking, he knew he’d never be heard with those mechanical experiments she’d doubtlessly be up to.” He took a breath. “He saw her. Her lifeless eyes were the first thing he saw. His eyes trailed downwards. Her clothes were pristine, kept with care. Her body was littered with bruises and cuts. She was lying on a puddle of her blood but he couldn’t see any cuts on her that’d be so grievous.

    “So, he did the only thing that came to his mind, at the time. He cleaned her corpse. He took off that peplos and dressed her in a ruqun. He ran, yelled at all that would hear him, that their leader was dead. When asked, he pretended that he didn’t know the murderers. What do you believe, little bird, was the cause of her death?” Then, through a flash of perhaps insanity or just the influx of oxygen that made him feel light-headed, he let go of his control over the restraints, and the wind elf crashed face-first into the ground. Morax snickered at the unseemly squawk that Barbatos let out before the crash and sat down beside him. He lowered his tone as Barbatos regained his bearings and sat up. “Please, tell me, what was the cause of her death?”

    “You were,” the elf answered. He crawled over to the dragon. The dragon did not bother resisting when his face was grabbed and the elf straddled his lap without a single struggle. The wind elf’s voice was haggard, rough–as if he were vomiting these words on an empty stomach, burning his vocal tones with his stomach acid. “You believed them all to just be toys that existed purely for the sake of your mission. You thought they lived just to meet you, just to encounter your excellency so that you could feel all important.”

    Rex Lapis could not accept it. “I think I loved her.” His voice was confident, soft. 

    “Yes, I think you’re right, you truly did love her–in the only way you could ever love our kin. Well,” Barbatos finally smiled at him again. It was ugly, more akin to a sneer. Morax felt sick to his stomach. “I am no maiden and I am no royalty. Just another Teyvatian whore who now gained a purpose, simply because you deigned to look at me. What will you do now, my Lord?” No, no. This conversation was getting out of Morax’s control. He needed to get it back. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t… Morax looked into Barbatos’ eyes, trying to read the emotions he could not smell in the wind. Fear, disgust, distrust and… desperation to survive. Morax allowed his body to become pliant underneath the elf. He put up his hands in surrender, not missing the way the elf’s body stiffened and his eyes immediately scanned the hands in search of an attack. 

    “Nothing,” Morax replied. “You’re free to go.”

    Barbatos did not trust him. He kept his hands on Morax’s face, trying to read for any lies. Morax kept himself pliant. A long moment after, the elf dissipated into Anemo right on top of him. Morax kept his hands to himself, allowing the escape. A dagger dropped from the last remnants of Anemo left of the other Archon, which fell to Morax’s torso and stabbed through the clothes and his skin. He was a battle-hardened god, it hurt only as much as the prick of a needle. He hissed anyways, just because he could. The only reason it happened anyways was because he willed it.

    His hiss echoed through the empty, hallowed tomb.

Chapter Text

   Descenders don’t make sense.

    Venti always knew this as a fact. Descenders ramble, they get violent if they get too drunk, they glare and they scream and then they smile as if nothing has happened. They don’t make sense because they don’t have to. It’s not as if anyone would ever refuse them. If any Teyvatian gets too big for their britches, they’re beaten halfway to death and left to rot in the best case scenario. Venti had learned early on that he had to smile, nod, keep his eyes respectfully lowered. Always be pleasant, always keep his voice cheerful, keep his human form attractive to their sight. He might rebel by keeping his form stagnant ever since he became an Archon and by keeping his hair short; but they were petty, insignificant rebellions that were hardly worth much.

    Venti knew he’d signed his own death warrant the second he’d opposed Morax–Deus Auri. He’d lost his temper in the one singular time frame when he knew he should have kept his mouth shut and nod along pleasantly. He’d forgotten Mondstadt–his children, his precious burden, who’d just so recently started to take their first steps. What would have happened to them if Venti had died so soon? What about their Ley Lines? Had he not signed over the rights of his own life and body to his nation when he’d touched the Gnosis? What had he been thinking? Well, he hadn’t been thinking. His vision had been tinted red the more M… Deus Auri had spoken, and then he suddenly lost all of his control. Everything he’d gone through these last five hundred years had suddenly manifested in a suicidal mental breakdown.

    However, this begs the question: Why is he still alive?

    Yohualtecuhtin sighed, “So, did you risk death just to stare into space?” Venti snapped out of his thoughts and focused on the present. It used to be easy enough to do once, back when Mother had been in complete control, but the present was fragmented now that the Archons were exercising their rights and powers. All the more reason why he couldn’t die just yet, he had far too much work to do. Perhaps that’s why Deus Auri had allowed him to live.

    “Always a pleasure,” Venti uttered with a hopefully charming smile and a happy tone. When in doubt, return to routine. “How have you been in these recent centuries? Have you started to work out? Your body seems… rock solid.”

    The joke did not seem to be met warmly, judging from the sudden burst of flames underneath his feet. Tough crowd. He danced to escape the flames, unable to use Anemo within the Night Kingdom. “Why have you come to Natlan? Did you think it has been too peaceful lately?” 

    “Hardly. Just look at how full to bursting the Night Kingdom is, you might need a room expansion real soon.” Venti took a look around as he meandered in a tight circle in front of the Wayob stone. The Night Kingdom looked about as depressing as he’d expected, considering its purpose. A constant mist of Ley Line flow manifestations kept everything at a freezing temperature, the screams of agony and moans of pain from the dead did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. The only light source here was the obsidian pillars, as there was no moon left for the Wayob to try to recreate. “Do you need help regulating the flow of the Ley Lines? I doubt you need random heart attack victims getting here instead of veterans.” 

    Yohualtecuhtin chuckled mirthlessly. “You’d know a lot about this topic, wouldn’t you? Why don’t we talk about what you have done to Mondstadt’s Ley Lines while we’re on this topic? Just because I am stuck here does not mean I am blind, Barbatos.

    “They were fated to be entombed in ice,” Venti replied breezily, waving a dismissive hand. He sat on the floor, satisfied with his sight-seeing tour for now. A few Seelies made their way over to him and lazily floated above his head. “It’s a temporary fix, until I find a better way to weave them without problems.”

    “Of course,” the angel sounded very unconvinced. “I assume the fact that you have trapped the souls of Mondstaders within the nation was also very essential to this end?” 

    “Indeed, as essential as the way you have trapped the Natlanese.”

    “We are at war!”

     “Get in line, princess!” Barbatos snapped. “Your nation is not the only one dealing with the impossible! Mondstadt needs all the help it can get, my children are the only ones I can trust!” 

    “Just like you trusted your siblings?” The air turned frigid. For once, it was not accompanied by the screams of fresh veterans; it was due to the foreign envoy. “I know all about what happened on the Day of Judgement. I told you, Barbatos, just because I am stuck here does not mean I am blind to the world. What is your trust worth, when you sold out all nine hundred and ninety nine of your siblings just to… What even was the end goal, anyways?” An abundance of mist was summoned by the Wayob. It shaped itself into replications of Venti’s old tribe members. Their colours were washed out, unable to retain any elemental power or markings. Venti narrowed his eyes at the imposters, as silent as the souls of his siblings inside of him. “That’s the one thing that never gets fully reported in any source I could find.” The angel’s voice turned coy, the obsidian pillars shined a tad brighter. In the pitch blackness of a hopeless night, even this scant brightness called to the lost souls like a beacon. The elf stayed silent. The perfectly sculpted smile fell off his face as a scowl replaced it. “How about a game? I hazard a few guesses and you tell me if I’m getting closer to or further from the truth.” The angel waited for a few seconds for a response that would not come. Had she had her human form, she’d have shrugged her shoulders. She instead sent a few tendrils of light. “Did you decide at the last minute that you wanted to be an only child? Did they steal your food from the cabinet despite all of your labels on the container? Did they bully you when you were younger? Was mother dearest not paying enough attention to you? Oh, dear, the game is no fun if you don’t tell me if I am close or not!”

    “Exactly as I'd expect from a hermit hunted to near extinction,” the elf snarled, “finding humour in the deaths of innocents.” [1].

    “I am not the one who killed them. Unlike you, apparently,” the Lord of Night chuckled. “Alright, alright. I jest. Here is what I think your motive was: You thought you wouldn’t get picked as Time’s heir. And you just could not let that come to pass, not when you had already murdered ninety percent of Enkanomiya’s population just for the honor of being Celestia’s perfect little pet. What was just a bit more blood, when you’d already committed genocide against the people who had given you a home?” 

    “I’d suggest not trying to throw stones when your Night Kingdom looks like it’s just one death away from collapsing in on you.” The souls inside him retreated as far away as they could at Barbatos’ silent admission of guilt. It felt cold inside of him, suddenly. Venti dropped his gaze to his hands. The fingertips of his human form were suddenly growing pale. Your ignorance was bliss, Venti thought spitefully, don’t you dare hold it against me. He did not hear a response. You'd have done the same, all of you. Still no response. They wouldn't have, Venti knew, yet refused to admit to himself. The reason why Venti was here and they were not was a testament to that fact.

    “Ah, so I am right. Well, then, allow me to be the first one to congratulate you, no matter how tardy it is. Congratulations, Barbatos, on murdering one of the only nations that ever saw any worth in you and the only family you ever had. You are a perfect, obedient little pet and no one can take that away from you. Now, get out of my nation before you kill us as well.”

    The elf’s perfect persona was shattered, never to return. It did not matter. It was not a Descender in front of him. The souls inside of him had moved on from their shock to rage. He barked out a sharp laugh as he stood up, refusing to let any weakness or inner conflict show even when his limbs felt frozen solid. The Seelies, seeing the abrupt change, ran away from the scene in a rare show of self-preservation. Not that there was anything left to preserve in those husks. His fingertips and lips were beginning to turn blue from the frosty winds inside of him. “I cannot possibly take all of the credit on such a joyous occasion,” Barbatos replied. His voice was soft, silky, and he sounded far too much like Istaroth but couldn’t bring himself to care. “Was it not you, Yohualtecuhtin, who sold out all of her tactics to Celesita to save your own miserable life while your kin died to protect this ancient art? Was it not you who contributed to the damage to the ley lines and allowed for the degradation of the entire draconic race?” 

    “I did everything for our survival–”

    “And what will come of this?” Barbatos interrupted. “We can count each other’s sins until the Abyss descends upon your precious meal tickets and frost descends upon mine. What will we achieve, Yohualtecuhtin, if we’re too busy with this little dick measuring contest? Are you condemning me because you truly care about Enkanomiya and my family tree or because you can’t stand the sight of this New World and I happen to be an easier target than, let’s say, Ronova?”

    For a few seconds, it was quiet in the Night Kingdom. Barbatos took a few calming breaths. He began pacing, back and forth, closing his eyes to avoid looking at the replications of his tribe as they watched him with contempt in their eyes. The Lord of the Night sounded tired as she asked, “How do you know of Ronova’s involvement?” 

    “I intend for Enkanomiya and my tribe to be the last of this rotten chain,” Barbatos declared when he could trust his voice, avoiding the question. Nothing good would come out of Yohualtecuhtin’s further involvement in Barbatos’ affairs when she had shown him plenty that she couldn’t be trusted. “Just as I am sure you intend for the war against the Abyss to be the last one Natlan endures. We will only contribute to further destruction if we continue to argue. Why not let the past stay where it is and focus on surviving?”

    “We must pay for our sins,” Yohualtecuhtin replied, her voice now gone soft. The aggression bled out of her but the manifestations remained. “Then, Barbatos, let us make a trade. This new trade will define our new relationship, our new identities. I am no longer an angel. You are no longer a wind elf.” 

    “What do you need?”

    “I need wind elves. And, luckily, there seems to be an entire tribe’s worth of souls very near me for me to ‘create the concept’ of Wind.” 

    Barbatos hummed. If he happened to tighten his arms around his body, neither of them commented on it. “Elemental energy does not transfer well in the Night Kingdom,” Venti tried to reason.

    “We reserve the right to use phlogiston in Natlan's borders,” the Lord of Night answered. “What can I say? Our first Archon knows how to pitch ideas.” 

    The souls inside of him howled and screamed their refusal of the idea. Venti took a deep breath and, in his final act of betrayal, let go of them. The manifestations around him wheezed in pain as they melted into the Night Kingdom. New screeches filled the air. If one listened close, he could hear his name being cursed amongst them.

    “Then,” Venti bargained, “I will have two small requests in this trade. First, allow me to pay respects to Xbalanque. And second… I demand a diplomatic trip to Ochkanatlan.” Little was known about the ancient draconic race that was once the native, dominant species of Teyvat. Natlan–due to a very rare combination of its weak ley lines, geological proximity to the dragons’ historical last stand, and neutral stance during the Archon War due to the civil interspecies war they had going on at the time–remained the only place in Teyvat that had any amount of reliable knowledge.

    “Very well, consider it done. You will have your talk with Xbalanque alone, here in the Night Kingdom. Once it is done, I shall escort you to Natlan and have our Pyro Archon as your guide to Ochkanatlan. Please ensure that your mind is quick to forget.”

    “The Wind is fickle, do not worry,” Venti replied. “It is very nice to meet you, Lord of the Night.”

    “And it is an honor to meet you, Lord Barbatos. May this be the start of a long enduring relationship.” A warrior’s soul, distorted and degraded to a most basic shape, manifested between the Stele and Venti. The soul bowed down as soon as it sensed itself in the presence of the divine. “This is a child of the Flower-Feather Clan. She shall lead you to Xbalanque’s soul.”

    “Thank you for the assistance,” Venti offered the soul. It did not reply, only turned its back to lead the way. Venti shrugged and followed, not bothering to say goodbye to his fellow Lord when he knew full well she’d be spying on him all throughout his stay. Venti hummed a bit as they walked. “There’s quite a lot of souls just like you left behind in many nations,” he stated. Some souls had begun following them out of sheer boredom. “It’s seen as a blessing, if you’d believe it. To be left behind, unable to move on due to drought. In my humble opinion, it is definitely one of the worst fates. At the very least, the Night Kingdom allows for you to move on from Teyvat’s troubles. My own Ley Lines are never this crowded, that’s for sure–but I suppose that this overpopulation is caused by the infant mortality rates, huh…”

    “Correct, if a bit general, assumption,” a familiar voice answered. Venti was met by a soul that undoubtedly belonged to the first Pyro Archon, recognizable not just by his screaming voice he declared as ‘normal’ whenever anyone complained about it but also by the fact that the soul had taken the physical appearance of his body’s prime condition with a great attention to detail–down to the fabrics he had worn as tribe chief, the Archon, and the Unitor. It was highly unusual for a human to have such a great willpower to be able to control their own energy in this manner but Xbalanque had never been normal to begin with.

    The soul in front of Venti bowed in respect to its leader and vanished alongside the little group that they had made in this short trip. Venti smiled in greeting, “Xbalanque, you do not look a day over four hundred.”

    “And you do not look a day over twelve,” Xbalanque teased. “I had always wanted to talk to you in private, if you’d believe it. It was my greatest regret when I was on my deathbed. Thank you, Lord Barbatos, for giving me this respite.”

    Venti frowned in surprise. Xbalanque had usually kept to himself in any of the yearly meetings, never talking unless it was to gain more insight into Natlan's perpetual war. He’d also be the earliest to leave, unwilling to leave Natlan’s volatile helm any longer than strictly necessary. The only words the Anemo and Pyro Archons had exchanged during the mortal’s life had been provocative but ultimately hollow words by the mortal.

    Xbalanque gestured at a couple of smaller boulders that’d be suitable to sit on. Venti followed his lead and took a seat as he decided to start this conversation off slow. “There is no need to address each other formally, we are both Archons.” 

    “Ah, the title of Archon passes on to successors here in Natlan. Currently, I am nothing more than a mortal has-been; how honoured I am, to be visited by the Anemo Archon personally.”

    “Natlan’s Unitor and first Archon will never be a has-been in Time’s annals, I assure you.”

   Xbalanque grinned broadly. “Natlan knows nothing of gods, there was not exactly much room to learn when we were so busy dealing with the dragons. Even after the dragons’ defeat, we refuse to learn simply because we have much more concerning issues with the Abyss. During my lifetime, the Archons and the Shade of Death are the only gods I have ever encountered. Even with such inexperience and narrow options, I still felt like only you could understand me the best.”

    “What makes you so certain? I am a Vishap. It does not matter how much I try to understand humans, my knowledge will always be theoretical at best.”

    “Hah, the Sovereign used to babble similar things! About the Light and Shadow Realm, invasive species, invaders from beyond, usurpers, blah, blah, blah. Such a bore! Would it kill any of you to use layman’s terms?” Xbalanque, as a warrior, could not stand still. He shot up from his seat and paced, used his arms to gesture wildly from the lack of a weapon in his grip. “However… The reason why you and I are so similar, I think, comes from our lack of faith.” He opened his arms, gesturing to the endless dark of the Night Kingdom as he faced Venti. “I never had much faith in anything other than my own hands, my own potential. I was a vagabond with nothing to lose, until my friends took me by the nape and beat some community into me. But even then… I refused to pray to the elemental sovereigns, to the sovereign rulers, to the gods, to the Isle in the Sky. I believed only in Natlan’s potential. I refused Fate at every turn.

    “That refusal made me an Archon, a god,” Xbalanque spat out the word as a mock. “I became the very system I had denied and, the worst part was, I had no choice if I wanted this nation to have a future, at all.”

    Indeed, the trade of one tyrant for a foreign tyrant would infuriate Venti as well. That fury had been the only reason he had ever partaken in the Archon War at all. “Is that the reason you wished for the Pyro Archon to retain their mortality?”

    Xbalanque chuckled, “Despite my grudge against the gods, I am not an idiot who would make short-lived humans fight a divine war for my own petty satisfaction. Please remember that I, myself, was a human who fought a divine war out of necessity. But see, despite everything, you still describe yourself as a Vishap rather than as an Archon, the reigning god of Mondstadt. I killed my Sovereign as a lowly human, you killed your God-King as a lowly wind elf–not because we wanted power, not because we were fated to; we simply believed in securing our future.

    “You work to unite the Archons, exactly as I have worked to unite Natlan’s tribes. You have worked to secure Mondstadt’s diplomacy in Teyvat, exactly as I have worked for the peace between Vishaps and humans. I want, so badly, to pick your brains about what you have seen outside of Natlan’s borders. What are gods, in your experience? What are dragons?”

    There was a length of time where everything was silent, in which Venti did not realise it was now his turn to speak. He startled out of his sheer shock of having Xbalanque speak to him for longer than three sentences, let alone with so much sincerity. “What are gods, hm?” He thought back to his years in Celestia, the harsh indifference and constant orders of clearing out discrepancies. His short days of talking to Decarabian over apple juice and tea, listening to his melodic voice so unlike his harsh winds as he told stories of the dragons. Deshret and his destructive grief. He thought about a nation hidden underground, who claimed to be godless yet prayed fervently enough for the Wind to hear. “I don’t believe that gods exist,” Venti decided. “A god has unfathomable power, a god is omnipotent and omnipresent; no being that has ever existed or will ever exist has ever had these features. The beings we call gods are simply beings we do not yet understand.” 

    “There is nothing in existence that does not bleed,” Xbalanque agreed. 

    “As for dragons, they are simply a once-dominant species. They know more about the original Teyvat than us and they want to go back to the time before their world was destroyed. They aren’t villains or heroes, they aren’t all-knowing; they just are. Which means… We can cooperate, if given the right communication tools. They are the same as the rest of us, all selling themselves to ideologies or beings they deem superior.”

    “So, who have you sold yourself to?”

    “No one,” Venti replied, sneering at his fellow Archon. “I want Teyvat to survive. I stand against anyone who wishes to ruin our home, and I stand with everyone who wishes to see it thrive. I’ll use everything I have at my disposal for this end.”

    “Hmm… The Archons do not seem so much like a united front, then.”

    “I will unite us. Natlan has no choice but to be isolated for now, but believe me that victory is only a matter of time--the Pyro Archon who has ensured victory will find themselves met by an Archaic Order that is perfectly synchronised.” 

    “I know,” Xbalanque sat down again, spreading his legs and resting his head on one of his hands. “I also have been thinking of that future. Now that the present is no longer weighing me down, I want to ask for an immortal’s advice on investments.”

    “I am not an immortal, you know. I do have an expiration date and it is based upon how much corruption I consume. The Archon War was an absolute doozy, might have gotten entire centuries cut off my lifespan.”

    “You stand a better chance at seeing Natlan’s victory than I do, that’s for sure,” the man chuckled. “The Pyro Archon must adapt, as the Abyss adapts as well. However, adaptation comes at the cost of a short memory span. The Pyro Archons must concern themselves with only the bare essentials of history and all of the newest information available to simply stand a chance, while our Lord of the Night is too busy setting up a never before seen technology with the Ley Lines and expanding upon it to be of much help for record-keeping. However, there will come a Pyro Archon one day–armed with all of our accumulated knowledge, a real hot shot who will burn down every last enemy we have–who will win us the war. Then their primary concern will be to look back, to investigate this blood-soaked land’s history to ensure we will spring back from this war and rejoin Teyvat’s wider ecosystem.”

    “Natlan’s ecosystem and use of phlogiston may not make it an easy transition.”

    “Indeed. I suspect that there is some discrepancy up in the Isle, some gods want us to lose so they can bury the draconic legacy for good while others are rooting for us to win because they believe we’ll move on to murdering dragons in the fog of war. I don’t intend on making any of them happy with us. Which is why… Natlan needs foreign allies who will rise up for us the second our borders open.”

    “Why do you believe that a wind elf, one of the weaker life forms Teyvat has to offer, would be the best choice? Wouldn’t, say, Morax or even Rukkhedevata, be a far better choice on power and proximity alone?”

    “I have been watching the Sacred Flame for a long time, Barbatos. I have always wondered why there is such a strong presence of Anemo within the pure phlogiston that burns away cowardice. I have also talked with our dear Lord of the Night about potential allies,” Xbalanque shot Venti a smirk at this, “Despite her absolute lack of enthusiasm, she conceded that you’d be a far superior choice as an ally for our purpose.”

    “What exactly is that purpose, and what would Mondstadt gain from it?”

    “We need a record-keeper. Someone who keeps track of Natlan’s history, our debts, our losses, our victories, our grudges and gratitude. Of course, after the war, we also expect Mondstadt to be our first diplomatic visitor to introduce us to the world. Yohualtecuhtin tells me that when it comes to anything related to time, you are the only expert that exists. As for what is in it for you and your people…” Xbalanque once again got to his feet. This time, he crouched and began to draw a simplified map of Natlan in the sand. “I know how you get about your so-called children, so let’s start there. The people of Mondstadt, should they ever find their way here, will be treated as guests of the highest honour. Mondstadter researchers will be prioritised and given special access as long as Natlan has priority access to their research. In fact, there is a tribe located in this geography,” Xbalanque drew a circle to the location, “that has always been distant to Natlan’s conflicts. They are composed only of Anemo users, for some reason, and live as nomads. We need all of the fighters we can get, but I also know how much Archons need worshippers. I can ensure that they will pray to you, and act as your eyes and ears within Natlan.” [2].

    “This seems a bit too good to be true,” Venti replied, “What else do you require of me?”

    “Hmmm… I was thinking of it as more of a ‘you scratch my back and I scratch yours’ type of deal, you know?” Xbalanque explained. “With our ley lines being the way they are, we cannot exactly plan for the future. I need to guarantee my people’s safety even outside of our borders, especially since they’ll be out of the Wayob’s jurisdiction. I want the Natlanese people to be treated as honorary Mondstadters and, of course, your people will be given the same privilege in Natlan’s borders.” [3].

    “You said that Yohualtecuhtin was reluctant to offer my assistance, yet you have given me so much of your trust. Why?”

    Xbalanque blinked in surprise, and shot a confused glance at the wind elf. “Well, you said it yourself,” he talked slowly, like he was talking to a child. “Immortals have an expiration date based upon their corrosion, which is caused by corruption. You are weak, you do not even dare to rule directly over your nation–as such, you are more resilient to corruption than most of the other Archons. You also need Natlan to act as a buffer between the Abyss and the rest of Teyvat to keep your nation ruled by humanity, the most corruptible species in Teyvat, safe; so you stand to benefit the most from both Natlan’s war and eventual victory. I also understand that you have a personal interest in the art of phlogiston. If Natlan loses the war, the Isle will have a complete monopoly on it.”

    Indeed, the Pyro Gnosis had not been given to a complete idiot. The rationalisation of this trust allowed for a weight to be lifted off of Venti’s shoulders, he breathed a bit easier. Besides… His soul was now completely empty, without any tribe or Enkanomiyan and Sal Vindagnyr’s hymns. He was used to noise. 

    “Do we have a deal, Lord Barbatos?” Xbalanque prompted when Venti took too long to answer. He held out his hand for a shake.

    “Please, call me Venti,” Venti replied and took the hand.

    “Venti,” Xbalanque tested out, “then please, call me Chaac, friend.” [4].