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It was a rainy day, such a rare phenomenon in Natlan due to its unbearable heat. Everyone seemed to be inside, comfortably watching the water drops drip down the windows of their homes.
At least that’s what they thought.
In reality, Mavuika was sitting between two tall trees near the forest clearing. Watching. Listening.
There, in front of her, not far away, in the clearing were Kinich and Lyney, dancing in the rain like two little kids. They seemed to be so happy, like they didn’t have a care in the world, like they were the only people left. Their laughter echoed faintly in the dripping rain. Their smiles were so bright they could light up the clearing in the sun’s absence.
The Archon couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at her lips. She leaned against one tree’s trunk, her arms crossed, watching as if they were the most precious thing in the whole Teyvat. She swore to protect them—their love, their bond—with everything in her power.
Because she knew. She knew how hard it could be. A warrior, who swore to protect their nation from whatever dangers, and a fatui, who’s their worst enemy. Together. People never considered couples like this acceptable. They could be rude, hateful. They could destroy and break the fragile love they had so easily, and she knew. Oh, she knew.
Years ago, before the Fatui was completed and their plans established, Mavuika experienced love herself, with no other than the organization’s leader. The Tsaritsa.
The Pyro Archon fell in love the moment she saw her—the elegant, majestic woman, decorated by thin ice hanging from her coat and cape, and the pale blue ice crown on her head, standing upon her long white hair. She wore gloves as to prevent her hands from freezing when using her element, and her eyes were blue, bright like lakes lit by sunlight. Her smile was warm despite her role and element, and she was so nice, so sweet.
They started hanging out together. Tsaritsa showed Mavuika around Snezhnaya. They walked through the cold together, the Pyro Archon wearing the fur coat lent by her lover. Then they visited Natlan together, during which they encountered a rain just like this one in the present. They held their hands, spinning around in a so-called dance, being happier than ever. They danced barefoot in the mud, laughing and smiling like careless children. They were in the same clearing, whispering sweet declarations and promises. They shared soft kisses, held hands while resting on a tree’s branch, unbothered by their soaked clothes and hair.
“I love you like the sun, Mavuika.” the Cryo Archon used to whisper.
They were so happy, so in love, it felt like nothing could break them apart.
Or so they thought.
One day, they met like usual, in their secret spot hidden from judgmental eyes and poisonous whispers, from the world’s hatred and disapproval.
Except this wasn’t just a normal meeting.
Tsaritsa explained that they had to break up, because her and the Fatui had big plans and couldn’t risk getting Mavuika in trouble because of it. It was better this way, at least one would be saved.
Perhaps the sun was truly never enough to melt a snezhnayan’s cold, cruel heart.
The Cryo Archon changed. She became careless, merciless, all she desired was power, and she was up to do anything for it. Her cruelty was feared all over her nation.
They never saw each other again, never met, never spoke. The Pyro Archon was devastated. She cried for days and nights, the unbearable pain still in her chest, still feeling the ghosts of her lover’s soft, loving touches lingering on her skin.
She never moved on, she couldn’t. She kept waiting for her despite the loneliness. She kept missing and loving her despite the pain.
Now she was standing there, under the same tree they once used to climb, next to the same clearing they used to dance into, but the loving and perfect couple was nowhere to be seen, replaced by another.
Once she snapped out of her trance, Mavuika realized her cheeks were wet, but not from the rain alone. There she was, finding herself envious of the relationship she once swore to protect. She swore to watch over their pure love in Tsaritsa’s place.
Life wasn’t fair, yet history had repeated itself once again. The warrior, who was trained their whole life to be prepared for wars and fights, chose to love, to cherish, while the fatui, who was taught to always obey and cherish the others in the organization, chose war against them.
How ironic. If only the God of Love could’ve chosen war against the Fatui and not against…love.