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“Ack!”
Nicole’s footing slipped.
She braced for the inevitable—a hard fall onto the ground several feet below.
But instead—
“M-Miss Nicole!”
Strong arms caught her mid-fall, holding her close as though she weighed nothing at all.
Nicole slowly opened her eyes.
Beneath the vast blue sky, she was met with a familiar flash of gold and eyes of warm blue, wide and trembling. His lips were slightly parted, a quiet sigh of relief escaping them.
Her heart thundered against her ribs, warmth rising to her cheeks at the sight of him so unexpectedly near.
“S-S-Sir Varka?!” she gasped in disbelief.
The Knight of Boreas’ face crumpled with worry as he carried her down from the steep path.
“What were you doing, Miss Nicole?!” he demanded, concern bleeding into his voice, though he made no move to set her down.
Nicole was the one who pulled herself from his arms, landing unsteadily on her feet.
“I was just picking some Violetgrass, Sir Varka.” Her voice wavered slightly under his tone.
Of all the places to cross paths, Nicole had never imagined Sir Varka would find her here, deep in Liyue’s forest, just bordering their homeland of Mondstadt.
“I can see that.” Varka crossed his arms. “But that was very dangerous, Miss Nicole.” His expression softened, worry overtaking every other emotion. “You shouldn’t have come here alone, so far from home. At the very least—” he stepped closer— “you should have called for me.”
Nicole’s eyes widened at his words.
Her? Summon the Knight of Boreas? Mondstadt’s greatest defender? To help her pick herbs?
Surely, he was being far too generous. Far too kind. It made her heart flutter.
Nicole had known Varka for some time now.
Some time ago, when Mondstadt faced a crisis, the witches of Hexenzirkel had joined forces with the Knights of Favonius to drive out the Abyssal creatures. Though witches preferred not to mingle with humankind, and humankind viewed witches as forces of evil, their shared endeavor had begun to shift public opinion.
Still, despite that, the tides of opinion had not fully turned, and the witches continued to live in seclusion, isolated from humanity.
All except Nicole.
The young witch had developed a fascination with humanity—a curiosity that led her to settle in a humble cottage deep within Mondstadt’s forest, offering her services to those in need. Nicole specialized in crafting all kinds of potions. And from time to time, merchants and travelers would venture into the woods to seek her out for a small price.
As for Varka, ever since the knights had allied with the witches, one particular witch had caught his eye. And soon, he found himself falling for her. Hard. He would slip out of his office (much to Jean’s exasperation) to visit Nicole, spending an hour of his day just listening to her stories and tales.
But that morning, when Varka had found Nicole absent from her home, he had spent the last two hours tracking her down like a knight on the hunt of a fugitive. His search had led him all the way to Liyue, where he happened upon the young witch perched precariously at the edge of a cliff.
“You are simply too kind, Sir Varka,” Nicole said with a wave of her hand. “But I couldn’t possibly impose—no, ask you to help me with my work. You are a knight—the leader of Mondstadt’s army—and I am but a simple witch.”
Varka clenched his fist, slightly irked by the reminder of the differences of their status.
She was right. He had no duty to her. His sword belonged to Mondstadt.
Yet, unbeknownst to her, his heart belonged to her and her alone.
“Be that as it may, Miss Nicole, I cannot stand idly by without knowing you’re safe,” Varka said firmly. “I and Mondstadt owe you and your kind a debt of gratitude. As a knight, it is my duty to protect you. No matter what.”
Once again, she found herself moved by his chivalry. Though a part of her wished he had spoken those words out of some other feeling.
“Anyway, what do you need Violetgrass for, Miss Nicole?” Varka asked curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use it in your potions before.”
“It’s for a love potion.” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.
Varka’s brows rose. “A love… potion?”
Panic flickered across Nicole’s features, and Varka caught it.
He wondered if he shouldn’t have asked. But now his curiosity was piqued.
“Oh no!” Nicole panicked inwardly. “The client who requested the love potion strictly told me to keep it a secret! Oh wait—it’s not too late! As long as Varka doesn’t know it’s for a client, then I suppose no harm is done.”
Drawing a breath, Nicole answered, “It’s for me.”
Varka’s heart skipped a beat. “F-For you?”
With practiced confidence, Nicole managed a smile, masking her lie flawlessly. “That’s right! I’m making a love potion for myself. There’s someone… I want to use it for.”
Varka’s expression faltered, his mind spiraling.
“Miss Nicole… A love potion.” He studied her. “Does that mean… Nicole has someone she likes? If so, then clearly it isn’t me because why in all of Teyvat would she tell me if it were? And besides…” His gaze caught the way she stared at the ground, her cheeks turning pink. “Miss Nicole is the most wonderful woman in the land. Surely if she were to fall for someone, it would be someone far better than me. And if that’s the case… then who is this someone she’s in love with?”
He quietly gritted his teeth.
“Sir Varka?”
He stared at her, struggling to keep his emotions in check.
“I must do something about this,” he declared silently to himself.
“Sir Varka?” Jean raised a brow as she approached the altar of the Favonius Cathedral, where Varka stood before an enchanted mirror—one gifted by the witches of Hexenzirkel to the people of Mondstadt, should the need to communicate with them ever arise. “Why have you summoned me here? Is something the matt—”
A voice from the mirror cut her off. It belonged to Lady Barbeloth, the Seer Witch.
“I am one hundred percent positive, Sir Varka,” the witch declared, her voice echoing through the cathedral walls.
Varka smiled and gave a firm nod. “That’s perfect, Lady Barbeloth.”
“Sir Varka?” Jean stepped closer, her confusion deepening. “What is going on?”
Varka turned to her, a wide grin spreading across his face. “I was just speaking with Lady Barbeloth and asked whether Mondstadt will face any grave threat in the near future.”
Jean arched a brow, utterly baffled.
“I told Sir Varka,” Lady Barbeloth interjected; “that Mondstadt will face no such grave threat of any kind in the near future. And by near future, I meant the next few years.”
“I see…” Jean’s gaze shifted to Varka, suspicion creeping into her voice. “And… why exactly did you feel the need to ask Lady Barbeloth that?”
Varka’s grin only widened. “I have decided.” He planted his fists on his hips, chest puffed out. “To take an indefinite hiatus from my duties as Commander of the Knights. I am appointing you as Acting Commander in my absence.”
Jean’s eyes flew wide. “WHAT?!”
“I’ve already taken care of the paperwork,” Varka said, already striding toward the exit. “My hiatus starts about… now!” He bolted through the cathedral doors, leaving Jean frozen in stunned silence.
“Sir Varka!”
But by the time she burst out of the cathedral herself, he was already sprinting past the city gates.
She cupped her hands around her mouth, voice echoing after him. “What in the world do you need a hiatus for?!”
Nicole stared at him in both surprise and disbelief.
“I have taken a break from my duties to assist you, Miss Nicole,” Varka repeated, as though she simply hadn't heard him the first time.
They stood inside her cottage, the young witch frozen mid-preparation, a porcelain bowl filled with crushed powder clutched in her hands.
“Sir Varka,” she finally said; “as much as I appreciate your offer—”
“It's settled, Miss Nicole,” Varka interjected. “Don't try to dissuade me. I'll be visiting you here every day to help with that love potion and whatever other tasks you need assistance with.”
Nicole furrowed her brows. “May I ask why?”
“Why?” Varka echoed.
Why? Well, because I want to spend time with you—make you fall for me and abandon this love potion business!
Aloud, he answered, “After that incident yesterday, I fear there might be more. So, to ensure nothing of the sort ever happens again—” he tapped a hand against his firm chest— “I'll be here to lend a hand with your work.”
As much as Nicole loved the idea of spending time with Varka, she couldn't have him around. “I promised to keep the client's secret. It would be trouble if Sir Varka or anyone else found out. But he seems so determined to stay… what can I do to send him away?”
True to his word, Varka came visiting every day.
At exactly eight in the morning, she would spot him emerging from the forest clearing just beyond her home, marching toward her cottage with purpose. He wore simple clothes instead of his usual uniform, his greatsword strapped to his back and a basket of goods from the city tucked under his arm.
“Seeing as how I was the one who imposed this arrangement on you,” Varka said as he laid the basket’s contents across the table; “I thought it only fair that I provide our meals. That way, you wouldn’t have to trouble yourself cooking for the both of us.”
He smiled at her then, warm, unguarded, and her heart fluttered helplessly in response.
Nicole surveyed the small feast of Mondstadt delicacies spread before her, her mouth watering.
Afterwards, Varka would tidy her cottage while she worked on the love potion.
“I still need a few more ingredients,” Nicole murmured to herself.
Her gaze drifted to Varka, and an idea sparked.
“Perhaps I can send him to fetch me some ingredients. I’ll make the conditions absurd so that he gives up and leaves.” A sly smile tugged at her lips. “That would be perfect.”
And so, Nicole began dispatching Varka on foraging tasks.
“Slime condensate from a Cryo Slime defeated using Pyro,” she instructed. “Fowl meat struck down by an Electro-infused arrow. Shimmering Nectar from a Whopperflower slain at night. Fungal Spores struck by lightning. And a feather from a Snow-Winged Goose.”
But to her dismay—and, she would admit only to herself, her awe—Varka returned with every single ingredient, each one meeting its specified condition. He wore a triumphant smile, clearly hoping to have impressed her. And impress her he had. Yet guilt pricked at Nicole’s conscience.
“The slime condensate didn’t have to come from a Cryo Slime,” she thought as she examined the ingredients laid out on the table. “And how on Teyvat did he manage to get these Fungal Spores struck by lightning?!”
“I’m very impressed.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
She lifted her gaze and found his face alight like a sunbeam breaking through clouds.
There he stood before her, the Knight of Boreas, smiling goofily, his clothes tattered, his hair a wild mess, streaks of dirt marking his skin from his foraging task.
Nicole bit back a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand. “Awww, she thought, he looks like a puppy.”
Again, the words escaped her unwittingly. “Who are you calling a puppy?” Varka huffed, though the flush creeping across his cheeks betrayed him.
“Apologies, Sir Varka.” Nicole finally let out a giggle, the sound light and bright, and it echoed in the knight’s chest like a bell.
He stared at her, utterly enchanted.
His expression softened.
“I wish every day could be like this,” he whispered to himself, the words a quiet vow only his heart could hear.
Varka learned from Nicole that a love potion takes time to make.
“Just like your wine,” she compared with a playful smile during her explanation.
It was a rainy afternoon, the two of them tucked inside the living room. Varka sat on the couch, a warm cup of tea cradled in his hands.
“The herbs need to be dried first before they are crushed into powder,” Nicole explained as she plopped down beside him, a book in hand. There was nowhere else to sit.
When their shoulders inadvertently brushed, both held their breath.
A moment later, they each scooted away, a sliver of space reopening between them.
“W-With this weather,” Nicole filled the silence; “I won’t be able to get anything done. So, for now—” she turned to face him— “I think a break is in order.”
Varka nodded. “I don’t object to that.” He smiled and raised his teacup.
“I apologize for not having anything stronger than tea,” Nicole said.
“No, no! Don’t apologize for that. I like tea!”
Nicole shook her head. “After all that you’ve done for me, I think you deserve a good drink.” She smiled at him, warm and sincere. “Perhaps I’ll treat you to some wine in the city once this is over?”
Once this is over.
The words settled in his chest like a stone sinking into deep water.
His gaze flickered to his half-empty teacup—Nicole’s teacup—and something in him tightened painfully.
It had already been weeks since he first arrived at her doorstep, promising his time, his help, his devotion. And yet, despite every moment spent in her company, every laugh shared, every glance he stole when she wasn’t looking, Varka felt no closer to his goal.
No closer to her.
At night, alone in his quarters, the thought of her finishing that potion, of her using it on someone else, gnawed at him like a relentless ache. He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, imagining a faceless rival receiving the love he had so desperately tried to earn with his own two hands.
“What if it’s already too late?” The question haunted him. “What if she’s already in love with someone, and I’ve been nothing but a fool playing pretend?”
“Sir Varka?”
Her voice pulled him back. She had moved closer, concern threading through her expression.
Varka met her gaze.
And his heart stopped at the unexpected proximity.
He did not move away. He willed himself to stay rooted in place, to bask in her presence just a little longer while the rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows.
“Miss Nicole…”
She smiled, secretly savoring the way her name fell from his lips. “Yes?”
“Do you…” He swallowed hard, holding her gaze. “Is there… someone you have feelings for?”
The question caught her off guard. “Huh?”
“I mean—is there someone you are in love with?”
Color flooded Nicole’s cheeks, vivid and unmistakable.
And in that moment, Varka’s heart lurched with dread.
Because her silence, her sudden retreat, the way she turned her head away—it all confirmed what he had been too afraid to voice.
She loves someone.
And it isn’t me.
“Why do you ask, Sir Varka?” Her voice was quieter now.
The redness still lingering on her face made him want to shrink into himself. He couldn’t bring himself to ask another question. Not when the answer was already written so plainly. Not when the truth would only carve deeper into the wound already festering in his chest.
“If she loved someone,” he thought bitterly; “why would she tell me about her creating a love potion for herself? And why would she let me help her with this if the man she is in love with isn’t me? Why would she let me stay, day after day, just to watch her pour her heart into something meant for another man?”
The silence between them stretched taut, heavy with everything left unsaid.
Outside, the rain began to ease.
“Sir Varka?”
He rose abruptly from the couch, setting the teacup down with a quiet clink that seemed too loud in the stillness.
“I… have to go, Miss Nicole.” His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, hollow. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He didn’t look back as he reached the door. He couldn’t.
If he looked back, he might crumble.
When tomorrow came, Varka did not return.
And the day after that, the cottage felt emptier than it ever had before. Nicole found herself glancing at the forest clearing at exactly eight in the morning, waiting for a figure that never appeared.
Dear Sir Varka,
It has been days since your last visit to my cottage. I hope this letter finds you well.
I am writing to express my gratitude for your invaluable assistance in crafting the love potion. It is nearly complete and will be finished by tomorrow.
Please come and visit me whenever time permits. I shall have a bottle of Dandelion Wine waiting for you.
Sincerely,
Nicole
Everyone in the Knights of Favonius had been baffled when their commander abruptly left them one day, handing everything over to Jean without so much as a backward glance. Weeks later, he returned looking as though he had gone ten rounds with a Geo Vishap hatchling and lost.
Jean, for her part, was grateful to be relieved of command and the mountain of paperwork that came with it. Still, she and the other knights couldn’t help but worry. Their commander went through the motions of each day with a hollow look in his eyes, his usual spark nowhere to be found.
Then, a few days later, Nicole’s letter arrived.
And soon after, Varka found himself slumped at the counter of Angel’s Share, spilling his guts and several bottles of Dandelion Wine to Kaeya and Diluc.
“She’s in love with someone else—hic!” Varka uttered helplessly for what must have been the tenth time that night.
Kaeya watched him with quiet amusement, one brow arched over the rim of his glass. Diluc, meanwhile, stood with his arms crossed, visibly unimpressed by the sorry state of two knights debasing themselves in his establishment. Pathetic.
“Who?” Kaeya asked, taking a leisurely sip.
“Miss Nicole,” Varka sobbed, his face pressed flat against the counter Diluc had just cleaned.
Kaeya’s eye glinted with interest. “The witch who lives in the cottage in the woods?”
Diluc’s expression shifted, intrigue flickering beneath his usual stoicism. “That’s who you’ve been with these past several weeks?”
Varka let out a miserable sniffle. “Yes. I’ve been helping her make some potion she plans to use on someone she loves.”
“A love potion,” Diluc murmured, more intrigued by the potion itself than the commander’s romantic woes.
“That’s right.” Varka lifted his head with visible effort, his eyes glassy. “I thought—hic—I thought if I spent enough time with her, she’d fall for me. Then she wouldn’t need to finish it.” His voice cracked. “But she wrote to me that it’s already done. So I suppose…” He let out a hollow laugh. “It’s too late for me.”
Kaeya reached over and gave the commander’s back a firm slap. “Too late?” He shook his head with an encouraging smirk. “You haven’t even told her how you feel.”
Diluc leaned forward, his voice quieter but no less pointed. “Moreover, you haven’t heard her feelings.” He wagged a finger at Varka. “You’re making assumptions—foolish ones at that. Think it through. Did she ever tell you who the potion was for? Do you know for certain that she doesn’t feel the same way? Did you ever actually hear her say it?”
Varka blinked up at the redhead, his thoughts struggling to push through the haze of wine. “N-No. I suppose not.”
“Then why don’t you go to her and ask?” Diluc’s tone was firm but not unkind. “And this time, wait for an unequivocal answer before dragging yourself back here like a pathetic old man.”
Something ignited behind Varka’s eyes—a flicker of the man he used to be. “You’re right!” He slammed his tankard against the counter with renewed vigor. “I’ll go to Nicole. I’ll tell her how I feel!”
He spun around, ready to charge out the door with the determination of a knight riding into battle.
He made it two steps before collapsing in a heap just before reaching the exit.
Kaeya and Diluc exchanged a long, weary look.
“You’re carrying him home this time,” Diluc said flatly.
Kaeya sighed, already getting off his seat.
When Varka woke the next morning, a throbbing pain greeted him like an unwelcome guest.
But more importantly, he remembered—
“Miss Nicole. Her letter. The potion!
He sprang to his feet despite the protest of his head, grabbed his cloak, bolted out of his home, and mounted his horse with an urgency that brooked no delay. The city and forest blurred past him as he rode, his heart pounding harder than his hangover ever could.
“I hope I’m not too late.”
When he burst into the forest clearing just outside the cottage, his breath caught in his throat.
There stood Nicole, holding a small vial—the love potion—out to a hooded figure.
“That must be him,” Varka thought, his chest constricting. “The man Miss Nicole is in love with! The man she plans to use the love potion on!”
He dismounted quickly, his greaves landing soft on the grass as he strode towards them.
Nicole’s eyes went wide with panic the moment she spotted him.
“Oh no! Why is he here now of all times?” Her mind raced. “And right when I assured the client no one would be here!”
“Miss Nicole!” Varka’s voice rang out, steady despite the storm inside him.
Then, in an instant, he was between her and the hooded figure, his hand gently but firmly closing around her wrist.
“Miss Nicole.” His voice was softer now, laced with desperation. “I cannot let you do this.”
Nicole blinked. “What?”
Varka drew a shaky breath, gathering every ounce of courage he possessed. “I cannot let you use that love potion on the person you love without letting you know that I… I…” He faltered, caught in the depths of her gaze. “That I… I love you, Miss Nicole.”
Her face bloomed crimson, like a rose unfurling in the morning sun. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
“I have been in love with you,” Varka continued, his voice gentler now, the grip on her wrist loosening as if afraid she might pull away. “I love you. And I—”
A low chuckle interrupted him, rich with amusement.
Both Varka and Nicole turned to the hooded figure, the spell momentarily broken.
“My deepest apologies.” The figure reached up and lowered their hood, revealing a pair of warm golden eyes and long brown hair. Mr. Zhongli smiled, looking entirely too entertained for someone who had just witnessed a knight’s heartfelt confession. “When I asked Miss Nicole to prepare a love potion for me, I also asked her to keep my request and my identity a secret.” His gaze drifted to Nicole, fond and apologetic. “I did not expect that she would follow my request so thoroughly that it has led to such a misunderstanding between the two of you.”
“P-Please don’t apologize, Mr. Zhongli,” Nicole stammered, her cheeks still blazing. “I-I didn’t know that—I—” Words failed her. Her heart was still racing from Varka’s confession, still spinning from the realization that everything she had dreamed of might actually be true.
“Well then.” Zhongli held up the vial with a graceful nod. “You have my deepest thanks for this, as well as my sincere apologies for the trouble I have caused you both. I shall take my leave now.” He gave them a knowing smile, his eyes crinkling with quiet mirth. “Thank you, and goodbye.”
With a wave of his hand, he disappeared into the woods, leaving nothing but rustling leaves and the faint echo of his amusement behind.
Silence settled over the clearing like morning dew.
Varka’s hand was still on her wrist. He turned to face her fully, his heart laid bare, waiting.
“M-Miss Nicole?”
She lifted her eyes to meet his.
And in that moment, everything clicked into place. The days he had spent by her side. The way his face lit up when she praised him. The desperation in his voice when he thought she loved someone else. The confession he had just poured out like a man with nothing left to lose.
“He loves me,” she thought, her heart swelling. “All this time, he loved me.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Well, as you now know…” she said softly; “that love potion wasn’t for me. I’m sorry I lied to you about that.”
Varka shook his head quickly. “No. You have nothing to apologize for. You were simply honoring your client’s wishes.”
“As for the question you asked me the other day…” She interlaced her fingers with his, her smile widening until it outshone the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Yes. I do have someone I have feelings for.”
Varka’s breath caught.
She stepped closer, her hand warm and sure in his. “And I don’t need a love potion for him. Not when I know now that he loves me.”
His face transformed—the worry, the longing, the despair of the past weeks melting away into something bright and unguarded. “Then—”
“And before you misunderstand again—” Nicole rose onto her tiptoes, her free hand finding his chest, and pressed her lips to his.
It was soft, brief, and perfect.
She pulled back just enough to meet his stunned, radiant gaze. “That man is you, Sir Varka.”
Fireworks erupted in his chest.
A grin broke across his face—boyish, relieved, utterly smitten. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close, her body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.
“I love you, Nicole,” he whispered, the words tender and true.
“I love you too, Varka,” she breathed back, her heart finally, completely free.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she melted into him beneath the canopy of sun-drenched leaves and the whisper of a gentle breeze. The world around them seemed to pause, as if even the wind wanted to savor this moment—the quiet after the storm, the sweetness of two hearts finally finding their way home.