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The wind was cold as he stood at the cliff’s edge, tossing his hair around his face and causing him to shiver. It was dark, undoubtedly nearing midnight, but he preferred the cover that the night gave him. Besides, there was more than enough light to see - the moon was full, hovering somewhere behind the decaying tower in his view. He brushed a stray strand of hair to the side, not looking away from the scene before him.
Some few hundred feet below, in a small arena around one of the seals in Stormterror’s Lair, Lumine fought the Abyss Order with a ferocity only she could. Each bubble or arrow shot at her was slashed away with careful precision as she dodged and weaved her way closer to her attackers, eventually dispatching of them all.
Watching her filled him with a strange sense of nostalgia. Her every movement was so predictable, so familiar, that he could imagine himself fighting alongside her, just as they had in every moment in the past.
Well. Almost every moment.
“Aether.”
The sudden voice from behind him made him flinch. He turned, somehow keeping his composure, only to face the last person he’d expected to see.
Whenever he’d imagined this moment, he’d always pictured himself furious. He thought he’d be spouting every hateful word he could think of, letting them know exactly how they’d made him feel. Strangely, though, he felt no inclination to do any of that whatsoever. Maybe it was just that so much time had passed since they’d fallen out, but instead, all the emotion he felt was a cold sort of sadness and a nervous uncertainty.
“Barbatos,” he replied evenly. His hand twitched, ready to summon his sword, but he crossed his arms preventatively.
Their expression briefly flickered from indecipherable to one of hurt. They laughed, trying to play it off with a smile. “How formal. Are we so distant now that you refuse to call me by the name you knew?”
“You already know the answer to that, I think. Why are you here?” He said cageily.
“With your presence comes an immense amount of Abyssal power. I detected it within my borders, and considered it my duty to investigate,” Venti - no, call him Barbatos - replied, shrugging.
He tried to force some bite into his words. If he didn’t feel mad, maybe he could fake it. “Right. Your duty. Because that’s always had to take priority, hm?”
They closed their eyes for a moment just too long to be a blink. “Look. I’m not here to argue over past grievances,” the god said quietly, looking to the side. “I understand now that you’re just here to see your sister, and, given those circumstances, would have no qualms about leaving right now if you simply ask. But… I will be honest in saying that I suppose a part of me was hoping that we could talk.”
“Talk about what?” He asked before he could think. Idiot. You should’ve just said no. He’s no friend of yours anymore, and you don’t owe him anything.
He didn’t want to admit that a part of him wanted that, too.
“I’m sure you can hazard a guess,” Barbatos said simply.
Aether took one last glance at Lumine. Dain had joined her sometime in the last minute, and he began to feel uneasy. If he didn’t leave soon, he may be discovered, and… well. He didn’t think he could face her yet.
“Okay, sure. Let's talk. But not here,” he agreed, looking back to Barbatos.
They nodded. “I’ll see you at Windrise, then. I trust you still know how to get there.”
They disappeared in a gust of wind and a flash of teal light, leaving behind only traces of dandelion seeds. Aether stared at the spot where they’d been for a moment too long. He considered turning and looking at Lumine one more time, but he knew that would only make it harder to leave. Letting out a deep breath, he envisioned Vennessa’s tree, silhouetted by the moon and stars, then let the dark, tumultuous energy in his chest pull him through space and time.
When he reappeared beneath the giant tree’s branches, he was overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all. Windwheel asters spun in the grass, dotting the nearby meadow. The noises of the running stream and the rustling of leaves in the wind still calmed him just as much as they did then.
Even Barbatos, standing on a part of the ground broken by the tree’s roots, looked the same. Everything from the green cape and hat to the false Vision at their hip to their dark hair that fell in two braids was unchanged. The only thing unfamiliar was the lack of energy in their character.
“Say what you want to say, then, Barbatos,” Aether said, trying to keep his tone devoid of emotion. “I can’t stay here forever.”
They nodded, and this time, if they were hurt by that, they didn’t show it. “I know. I’ll try to be quick.” They partially turned away from him, looking up into the branches of Vennessa’s tree. “I’m sure I’m the last person you wanted to see. Your anger towards me and the rest of Celestia following the Khaenri’ahn cataclysm certainly wasn’t disguised, and my choices hurt you. I understand that. Still, being a god gets quite lonely after some time, and you’re one of the few people I’ve met with both my lifespan and who makes for pleasant company.”
“...I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation today, so I apologize if my next few words come across as blunt.” He let out a deep breath and turned around. “In short, I’ve missed you. And I know that so much has happened between us, but… do you think there’s a possibility that things could go back to how they were?”
Their stark honesty put Aether at a loss for words. After what felt like an eternity, all he could manage to do was state the obvious. “It’s been five hundred years.”
They laughed sadly. “I know. And here I am, asking if you’d love me again, even despite that. Pathetic, isn’t it?”
“…I think under most circumstances, it would be considered pretty romantic, actually,” he replied quietly.
Barbatos looked at him, slightly surprised, before he reverted to his small, sad smile. “Circumstances other than ours, you mean.”
“Well, I didn’t-”
“You didn’t need to say it,” they interrupted. “I understand. No offense taken, really - most relationships end anyway, in one way or another. We just… weren’t right for each other.”
That sentence hurt more than Aether could have ever expected. That’s not true, he wanted to say. We were. We were perfect. But we ended up on opposite sides of a war that could only ever resolve one way, and it ruined everything for us.
“Look, I-” He cut himself off, too afraid to speak, but the words bubbled up in his throat until they forced themselves out. “I’m not saying no. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever really fell out of love with you.”
Barbatos went uncharacteristically still. Several seconds passed without a response from him, and Aether immediately began to regret saying anything.
“I mean, I was really, really angry for most of that time, but I wasn’t angry at you, at least I don’t think,” he said, starting to ramble in an attempt to fill the awkward silence. “I was angry at the world and you just happened to be the closest tie I had to Celestia, and I blamed you for things out of your control because I couldn’t accept that I’d failed and I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way and-”
“Aether.” Their voice cut through his thoughts and he stopped. “Just… breathe. It’s okay.”
He took a shuddering breath and built up the courage to look back at them. They were watching him with the saddest expression of longing he’d ever seen as tears quietly rolled down their face, betraying the feelings they’d been trying to contain.
It only made his heart ache more.
“Do you really mean that?” The god asked quietly.
“I do.”
Barbatos made a kind of choked noise in their throat and, trying to collect themselves, began wiping the tears from their face with their sleeve.
“Here.” Aether, without really thinking, closed the small distance between them and gently brushed his gloved thumb over their cheekbone. “I think this is the first time I’ve made you cry,” he said ruefully, repeating the motion with his other hand.
“…The second,” Barbatos corrected, tilting their head down and looking away.
He was suddenly struck by a memory he’d tried his hardest to forget.
Venti, dressed in white and gold with their wings outstretched, desperately trying to convince him to go with them as their face grew stained with tears. Around them, the world burned and collapsed and red and black cubes spiraled from the sky.
In the end, he turned and walked away.
“Aether?” They said quietly, drawing him back to the present. “Is everything alright?”
He nodded. “Yes. Well, I mean, no, I-” He trailed off, then met the expectant teal eyes of the bard he’d once called his lover. “Venti, I… I’m sorry.”
They smiled, a hint of genuine happiness in it despite the tears that were still welling up. “Venti now, is it?”
Against his better judgment, he smiled back. “You know as well as I do that calling you Barbatos was never going to last.”
“Indeed. It sounded wrong, with your voice,” Venti replied playfully, and he didn’t realize until then just how much he’d missed the way their eyes crinkled in the corners, or the slight lilt their voice took on when they were teasing. It made him wish that nothing had ever changed.
The moment passed, though, and a long silence settled between them again.
“Are you sorry, though? Would you take anything back if you could?” Venti asked eventually, crossing his arms. His fingers drummed out a rhythm on one of them, a habit that, apparently, had stuck with him.
Aether paused. “I… don’t know. I would’ve still fought for Khaenri’ah. I know that much. But I’d like to think that I’d have made a better choice when it came to you.”
Venti studied him for a moment, then dropped his arms. “I’d like to think the same about myself. I feel as though I made the wrong decision, back then.”
He suddenly felt extremely guilty. “Venti, I know I’ve spent a long time blaming you, but I think a part of me always knew that it was never your fault and didn’t want to acknowledge that because it meant it would have been mine,” he admitted, fidgeting with the end of his scarf. “You’re an Archon, for heaven’s sake. I couldn’t have expected you to just disobey the Heavenly Principles like I did.”
Venti shook his head. “Yes, you could have. I was just too foolish to listen to you. And for that alone, I owe you an apology.”
He cast a quick glance up at Celestia, as if confirming that nothing would wake, then continued. “You were right to say that the Heavenly Principles hold too much power, and more right still to stand up against them. I… I was too selfish. I’d already resigned the people of Khaenri’ah to their fate, and I’d seen the Archon War firsthand. Those things combined had convinced me that to keep myself and my people safe, it was the wisest decision to just… let it happen.”
He looked to one side, his voice wavering. “I do regret it now. How could a god who claims to hold freedom as their most steadfast principle willingly resign a whole civilization to its doom, solely for existing in the name of that ideal? And how could I have been stupid enough to not try to protect you?”
That last statement was said with so much emotion, thick in Venti’s voice, that Aether could feel a lump building in his throat. Unable to form words, he responded by pulling Venti into a hug, holding him tightly against his chest. They returned it without any hesitation, wrapping their arms around his back and burying their head into his shoulder.
What are you doing? A bitter part of him hissed. You hate him. He betrayed you, remember?
But he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry anymore.
“Do you think you could ever forgive me?” Venti whispered, his voice muffled by Aether’s scarf.
Aether drew his hand in a slow circle on their back. “I think I should be the one asking that, not you,” he replied quietly. “But I already told you I was never actually upset with you. You had your own responsibilities and people that you were obliged to obey, and I can’t begrudge you for doing the same thing that I did.”
“…I suppose not,” came the almost imperceptible response. They stood there for a minute or two, finding comfort in each other’s presence, before Venti gently unwound himself from the hug. Aether dropped his hands to catch theirs as they let go of him.
“I take all this to mean that the answer to my previous question is a yes, then?” They said softly, staring down at where their fingers were laced together.
“Was that not obvious enough?” Aether replied, tilting his head ever so slightly.
Slowly, a small, mischievous smile spread across Venti’s face. “No, it wasn’t,” he said, a tease in his voice.
They met each other’s eyes again and Aether saw the clear invitation written in theirs. His heart started to pound a little faster and he swallowed as his mouth began to dry.
“…Are you sure?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Venti nodded. “Completely.”
He exhaled, taking one more second to study their expression for any indication of uncertainty. Then, before he could let himself get any more nervous, he gently lifted one hand to cup Venti’s face, wrapped the other around his waist, and kissed him.
It was just as perfect as he’d remembered. Everything, from the feeling of their clothes on his skin to the way their hair brushed his face, was the same, and archons, he had missed it. Venti reached up to slide both arms around his neck, and in that moment, any doubts he’d had about still being in love with the god in his arms completely vanished.
Eventually, Aether pulled away and rested his forehead on Venti’s, his eyes closed. When he reopened them, the god was looking back, their smile bittersweet and with a blush on his face that he was sure mirrored his.
“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” Aether said, returning their smile.
Venti laughed, a light sound that brought back memories of happier moments and that never failed to stir up a fluttering in his stomach. “For convincing ourselves that we wouldn’t find ourselves here again, someday? Yes, we are.”
Venti leaned away and they stood there for a moment, uncertain of what to do next, until Aether gestured to the ground. “Should we sit?” He asked tentatively.
“Sure,” Venti replied, still smiling. A bit of the usual spark had returned to his eyes, and it filled Aether’s chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in quite some time.
They took a seat against the trunk of the giant tree. In a motion that was almost automatic, he leaned his head on Venti’s shoulder and they brought their arm around him, more uncertainly than he remembered but no less gentle.
“Your sister reminds me of you,” Venti said eventually, needlessly fiddling with the bow on his cape with his free hand. “You were right in saying back then that I’d like her. You both have the same obnoxiously selfless character. Although I’ll admit that seeing her can be… difficult, sometimes. I’d known you were twins, but the resemblance is truly uncanny.”
When I look at her, I see you, were the unspoken words. Aether understood, though - they’d always been able to read each other in that way.
“Has she been okay?” He asked, worried for the reply.
Much to his relief, Venti nodded. “Fine, as far as I can tell. She’s been relentlessly searching for you, of course. And I’m sure you already know she’s the reason that Dvalin was cured.”
He winced. “Right.”
Venti caught the change in expression. “I don’t blame you for that, you know,” he said, taking one of his hands reassuringly. “I understand that this… vengeful quest you’re on has led you to make some decisions that can only be justified as a means to an end. I’ve done similar things myself. Do I wish that Dvalin hadn’t been caught in the middle of it? Of course. But I don’t think I could ever hold it against you.”
He sat in thought for a moment before he replied. “…Okay. Thank you. But... can I ask you something?”
Venti nodded. “Go ahead.”
Aether pushed off from the bard’s shoulder and sat upright, leaning against the bark of the tree behind them. “If you understand why I’m doing this, and you regret not standing up to the Heavenly Principles in the past, then why won’t you join me now?”
Venti turned his body to face him, their hands still intertwined, and met his eyes with sudden seriousness. “Because what you’re trying to accomplish is downright insane, Aether. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you owe nothing to the people of Khaenri’ah. What happened there was a tragedy, yes, but just because they called you their ‘Savior’ doesn’t mean it’s on your shoulders to right that wrong. Nobody is asking you to hunt down the Heavenly Principles and fix all that’s ill in the world.”
He took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, likely realizing his own intensity. “Please, just… at least consider giving this up. I know it would mean a lot to the people who do truly care about you.”
“The people of Khaenri’ah cared about me,” he replied, a little defensively.
Venti shook his head. “The people of Khaenri’ah admired you,” he corrected. “But I care about you. Lumine cares about you. And I’m sure that Dainsleif does, too, in his own way.” He paused, and the grip on Aether’s hand tightened slightly. “Aether, I’m… I’m worried you’re going to die doing this.”
He smiled sadly. “Then I’ll die. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I hadn’t at least tried to do something.”
Venti pressed his lips together, clearly holding something back, then sighed. “Five hundred years haven’t made you any less stubborn about doing the right thing, have they?” He asked, rhetorically.
Aether chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I guess not.”
They sat there in silence for a while, taking in the calm, still scenery of Mondstadt at night and listening to the sounds of rustling leaves and chirping crickets.
The longer they stayed, though, the more uneasy Aether began to feel. As pleasant as the moment was, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Lumine was here, in this nation, actively searching for him, and some instinct told him it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths.
He didn’t want to let it happen so soon.
“…I think I should go,” he said quietly, staring out over the meadow.
“Okay,” came Venti’s answer. There was a pause, then he asked, “You’ll… come back at some point, right?”
Aether smiled softly. “Yeah. I will. Maybe next time I’ll bring a whole bouquet of Cecilias as an extra-sorry apology.”
Venti smirked. “Well, you don’t need to go quite that far. But if you’re already going to do it, then… would you maybe consider throwing in a bottle of dandelion wine or two, as well?”
“We’ll see. No promises,” he replied teasingly.
They sat there for a moment, and some of the lightness in the air dissipated as the time for goodbye finally arrived.
Aether took a deep breath. He didn’t want to leave, not really, not now that Venti was sitting right in front of him, but he knew that his stay in Mondstadt was already long overdue. “…One last kiss for good luck?” He asked tentatively.
Venti raised an eyebrow. “Good luck in destroying Celestia and the seat of all my power, you mean?” He joked.
“Please. You’ve cut all ties with that place anyway,” he joked back.
“Fine, you’ve got me there.” Venti ran their fingers through his hair, then rested their hand just above his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. It was longer than the last, as though they didn’t want their time together to run out, but no less sweet.
All good things, though, must come to an end, and Aether ultimately pulled away. “Okay, I should really be going,” he said apologetically.
Venti gave him a sad smile. “I know. But I’ll see you soon, right?” They asked, searching his expression for any sign of a lie.
“Soon,” he promised.
He let himself linger there just a second longer, then stood up and walked away. Unlike five hundred years in the past, though, both of them were left with a heart lighter than when they’d arrived, and a future that seemed much brighter than the one that had been ruined by the omnipotent god who slumbered somewhere far, far above them.