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Mondstadt is no stranger to wayward beings. Of course, most of Teyvat’s seven nations has its share of people of unknown origin—save perhaps for Inazuma, on account of its borders being previously closed for quite some time. Still, there are rumors of exceptionally mysterious people residing in Mondstadt, and it makes sense, really—after all, what better place is there for wayward princes of a fallen kingdom to live out their lives, forever in search of the world’s truth or the salvation of a dead nation?
“Do you think they know?” Albedo asks, voice a mere whisper behind the locked door of his office.
Kaeya shakes his head. “I don’t believe so,” he answers, casting a wary glance toward the door. You never know who might be listening. “The people of Mondstadt don’t know enough about Khaenri’ah to have figured it out, I don’t think, though I do understand your concern.”
Albedo nods. “The name of Khaenri’ah alone carries a heavy sort of connotation, for those who have heard the name. For them to know two highly ranked officials hail from such a place…I don’t believe it would bode well. Especially not after everything that just happened.”
“No, of course not.” Kaeya leans against a bookcase and lets out a dry laugh. “The Chief Alchemist and formerly accused is actually an artificial human brought to life by some ancient alchemical art no one has ever heard of, and the Quartermaster and defense attorney of the accused is actually a sleeper agent planted in the city as a child to infiltrate of one of the most influential aristocratic families. That news would most definitely bode well with the citizens of Mondstadt.”
“Certainly not,” Albedo muses, absently doodling in an open notebook. “The charges against me may have been false this time, but were our origins to get out…” He taps his pencil against his lower lip. “The legends told to the people of Teyvat do not look kindly upon our own.”
Kaeya hums lightly in response, pulling a book at random from one of Albedo’s shelves and cracking it open somewhere in the middle. He snaps it shut and reshelves it almost immediately.
Albedo raises an eyebrow. “Not interested?”
“Not quite,” counters Kaeya, pulling away from the bookshelf and approaching Albedo’s desk. “The issue is that I can’t seem to concentrate on a book if I can’t be comfortable while reading it. Now, say you had a couch…”
“I told you already,” Albedo deadpans, “I’m not getting a couch.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need one.”
“But I do. Where else am I supposed to sit when I’m visiting you?”
“You’re supposed to not bother me while I’m working.”
Kaeya kneels beside Albedo at his desk. “And yet you haven’t ever bothered to tell me to leave, have you?”
“Be quiet,” is all Albedo says in response, but it’s coupled with a smile. “And you were a terrible lawyer, by the way.”
“Don’t lie,” Kaeya chastises, fighting not to laugh. “I can tell when you’re lying to me, you know.”
“No, you can’t,” says Albedo, “and you can only tell right now because it’s obvious that we both know you were brilliant out there.” He leans down and presses his lips against the corner of Kaeya’s own, appreciating the way Kaeya’s jaw immediately goes slack and he flushes a deep shade of crimson. “…Even if the trial was a sham.”
“I—you’re infuriating, you know that?” A successful short-circuiting of the brain, all things considered.
“Mmm. Lucky there’s only one of me now.”
Kaeya lets out a huff of disbelieving amusement. “Yeah. Don’t know how I’d survive if I had to put up with two of you.”
“Three, actually; you’re forgetting about the Fellflower variant.”
“The Fellflower variant doesn’t count.”
“I feel like it does.”
“It can’t talk, so therefore it wouldn’t be able to drive me absolutely insane.”
“Hm. A fair assessment, I suppose.”
Kaeya hesitates. “Does that not bother you?”
“What are you referring to?” Albedo asks, frowning slightly.
“The fact that there are—I mean, were multiple copies of you, one of which looked exactly like you. It certainly bothers me, at least.”
“The existence of Subject Three—the Fellflower variant—was never much of an issue,” Albedo says. “I dealt with it back on Dragonspine a few years prior to recent events.”
“But the one that looks like you came back, didn’t it?”
“This is accurate,” continues Albedo. “Subject Two did come back, which was admittedly alarming information, as I thought I had killed him at the same time as I did Subject Three. However, I have killed the original Durin, so the chance of the resurrection of either Subject Two or Three is null.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You said the existence of Subject Two and Three bothered you. Why is that?”
Kaeya sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s more so Subject Two than Three,” he admits. “I just—if he was alive all this time…”
“You fear that not all your memories of me are with the real me,” Albedo supplies, to which Kaeya gives an affirmative nod.
“Yeah, I know it’s crazy, but—”
“It’s okay; I understand. It is certainly a warranted fear, given recent events,” Albedo says. “However, your fears are misguided, for the sheer fact of how much you know me would ensure that any encounter you could have possibly had with Subject Two would have been glaringly obvious to you.”
“How so?”
“Subject Two was a failed and abandoned prototype. As such, his mannerisms are different from mine—not by a large margin, but someone who is exceedingly familiar with me such as yourself would be able to pick up on the difference,” Albedo reasons. “Also, you’re incredibly perceptive.”
Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “And?”
Turning to his open notebook, Albedo quickly sketches out two portraits—one of himself, and one of Subject Two. He shows the drawings to Kaeya. “What’s the difference here?”
As expected, Kaeya’s response is immediate. “Your birthmark,” he says, pointing to the sketch of Subject Two. “This one’s missing it.”
“Precisely,” Albedo says. “This is why I know it for a fact that all your memories of me are with the real me; had they not been, you most definitely would have noticed.”
Kaeya nods. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right; don’t you know that by now?”
This earns Albedo a dramatic eye-roll. “Yep, one of you is definitely bad enough.”
“Mmm. Maybe I actually will kill someone next time.”
“Yeah, good luck getting me to defend you then, genius. That’s a losing battle, right there.”
“What makes you think you’ll be around to defend me?”
“Oh?” Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “Why, my dearest Chief Alchemist, do my ears deceive me, or are you threatening me?”
“Yes, I am,” Albedo deadpans. “And besides, even if I did actually kill someone, they wouldn’t let you defend me anyway. Conflict of interest.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why did they let me defend you this time around, huh?”
“Because it was a sham trial.”
“But still, they would’ve needed to make it look convincing for the civilians present, wouldn’t they?”
“And that’s exactly why we’ve kept this—” Albedo gestures between the pair of them— “under wraps.”
“So we can skirt around the law?”
“Among other things.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Kaeya murmurs as he rests his head against the side of Albedo’s hip. “You wouldn’t actually murder someone, anyway; not without reason, at least. You love this city and its people far too much for that.”
Albedo hums contentedly. “I suppose you could say that,” he agrees. “Which is strange, given the circumstances under which we are here.”
Kaeya shrugs. “What can I say? This place has grown on me.” And while Kaeya is known for his silver tongue and half-truths, this truth is one he tells in full. “Over time, my life has had less and less to do with Khaenr’iah,” he remarks, “and more and more to do with Mondstadt. It’s only natural that I feel closer to this place…especially considering it’s the home of those whom I love.”
“You speak as if we can escape Khaenri’ah’s legacy completely,” Albedo notes. “You do realize such a thing is impossible for people like us, do you not?”
“I certainly don’t believe in prophecy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Albedo shifts slightly, resting a cool hand against the side of Kaeya’s face and turning his head to face him. Periwinkle meets cerulean blue. “Mondstadt is my home now, just as it is yours,” he begins, “but someday, your father will come to collect, and my mother will find her use for me. We cannot run from our purpose.”
“I did not choose this purpose,” argues Kaeya. “It was thrust upon me when I was a child.”
“And it was thrust upon myself when I was born,” Albedo counters simply. “People like us do not choose our fate. Someday, I will lose control of myself and destroy everything I hold dear, and someday, you will take your place upon Khaenri’ah’s throne. That is how our story has been written. There is no stopping it.”
“Is it?” Kaeya asks, turning completely to face Albedo now. “Can I not choose to give up my claim to the throne?”
“Your father will use those whom you hold dearest as leverage until you acquiesce.”
“Okay, but what about you? Is there something you can do to—”
Albedo gently brushes his thumb across Kaeya’s cheek, and when he speaks, his voice is sad. “There is nothing I can do for myself, my star.”
Kaeya’s hand comes up to rest against Albedo’s, diamond-pupiled eye wide. “But Gold—she sent you here with a mission, didn’t she? To ‘find the truth of this world’? She can’t do anything to you if you haven’t found it yet, can she?”
Albedo laughs, though there is no humor to it. “I’ve come to realize that ordering me to ‘find the truth of this world’ was her way of telling me to get a life.”
“Why would she—”
“So that I could enjoy the time I had while she waited for her opportunity to use me.” Albedo explains it as simply as if he were explaining to someone how to do the laundry. “There was a sleeper agent element to it, of course, just as there was for you, but it was really just her way of telling me to make something good of the time that she had given me.”
“Have you?” Kaeya asks. “Made something good of the time given to you?”
Albedo leans down and captures Kaeya’s lips into a tender kiss. He allows himself a moment to drink it in—the softness of the other man’s lips, the taste of wine on his tongue—before pulling away, leaving Kaeya at a complete and utter loss for words.
Then, smiling a smile reserved only for Kaeya, Albedo answers, “Yes. I have.”