Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rex Lapis is dead. 

The oldest of the Archons, one of the only remainders of the original Seven, the presiding lord of Liyue and the god of Geo for thousands of years, is dead. There’s a corpse lying in the middle of the city to prove it.  

Word, of course, travels fast. An Archon is dead – how could it not? Through whispers and sobs, the rumours begin to spread. Rex Lapis has been felled. Our God was defeated and no one knows how it happened. The protector dragon of Liyue fell from the sky, already dead, and we knew nothing of it until his corpse was lying at our feet.

None, however, are more surprised nor horrified than a simple Mondstadtian bard who hears this terrible news carried on the winds. The wisps love gossip, and they love their bard even more – of course they would bring him the juiciest secrets, the hottest news. 

The fact that this news speaks of the apparent death of his oldest friend – well. The wisps may love gossip, but that doesn’t mean they always understand it. 

Venti, though, Venti understands it perfectly. 

Rex Lapis – Morax – is dead, and Venti didn’t know. He wouldn’t have known at all, likely not for a month or two more, if not for the wind sprites whispering the news to him like a fun little secret for him to laugh over. Like it’s trivial – like it doesn’t matter. 

Morax is dead and he didn’t know. How could he not have known? But then, without his gnosis, how could he have known? He bears no intangible connection to the rest of the Seven without it, not even Morax. 

Venti had thought he didn’t mind Signora’s theft of his gnosis, given that it barely affected him at all after he’d had time to recover at Windrise, but it seems there are details that even Venti neglected to think of. Sure, the other Archons would no longer have a direct line to him, but that connection always went both ways. It’s simply that, given his flighty nature and their general disdain of his… well, everything, that connection had gone almost entirely unused. 

In face, Morax might have been the only one to ever reach out to him in that way – or at all, really. He had always been so caring like that. So steadfast, even when faced with Venti’s contrary personality. As wildly unmatched as they should have been, Venti had always revelled in how safe Morax could make him feel. 

And now– 

Well. Morax won’t be making him feel anything ever again, except perhaps grief. 

oOoOo

The day Rex Lapis dies, the wind stops. 

It isn’t noticed in the other nations, not at first, but Mondstadt knows immediately. The winds have never once stopped blowing in Mondstadt, not since the fall of Decarabian and the ascension of Barbatos – not that the current inhabitants could possibly remember that. To them, a city without wind is completely unheard of. 

But today, the winds have stopped entirely. The air is still, so still that it’s unsettling, and the ever-present sound of the breeze against the houses is gone. 

Deep in the headquarters of the Knight of Favonius, a handful of individuals have gathered in the Acting Grandmaster’s office for one reason and one reason alone, and every last one of them wears a grim expression as Jean leans up against her desk and wonders aloud what could have possibly brought this on. 

“Barbatos has never stopped the winds, not once,” she muses with a frown. “Why now? What could have happened to prompt this?” 

Across the room, sprawled in a chair in a deceptively lazy fashion, Diluc meets her eyes. “As far as I can tell, nothing has changed with Dvalin, but it’s possible that there’s something we don’t know about. Has anyone been up to his lair to check?” 

“Not yet. I was going to send the Traveller, but she was en route to Liyue last I heard.” 

“Send Kaeya, then. He could use the distraction.” 

“Do you really find that wise, Diluc?” 

Barbara lets out a strained sigh, effectively cutting off that line of conversation. “Could we have… done something to upset Lord Barbatos? I, I can’t think of anything the church has done differently these past days… but the Holy Lyre der Himmel did go missing recently, even if we got it back. Is it possible that His Lordship is upset at the state of such a treasured object?” 

But Jean shakes her head, exchanging a heavy glance with Diluc. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Besides, the incident with the Lyre was a month ago. If Barbatos were truly displeased over that, he would have made it clear much sooner.” 

Barbara nods defeatedly. “I… I suppose you’re right… but then, what could it be? How do we help our god if we don’t even know what’s wrong?” 

“Acting Grandmaster Jean!” 

The door bursts open without warning, revealing a panting Cyrus. All three of the room’s occupants straighten up at the distraught, panicked look on his face as he stumbles inside. 

“Acting Grandmaster Jean,” he repeats after drawing in a few much-needed breaths, “there’s something you need to know. I haven’t confirmed it yet, but…” 

“What is it?” Jean asks. She’s already slotted the persona of Acting Grandmaster into place, ready to handle whatever conflict or crisis should arise. Could Cyrus have information about whatever has happened to Barbatos that caused the wind to stop blowing?  

Cyrus hesitates, straightening up and steeling himself before looking Jean in the eyes. “It’s news from Liyue, Ma’am. They’re saying… they say Rex Lapis is dead.” 

“Dead?” Barbara gasps, and Jean feels the blood leave her face at the revelation. 

She glances over to Diluc, who’s already looking just as pale and horrified, and the second he meets her eyes, he nods firmly. He stands and makes some excuse to leave that doesn’t even register in Jean’s mind as she collapses into the chair behind her desk – if Venti is anywhere in the city, or even near it, Diluc will find him. 

Oh, fuck. Rex Lapis is dead.  

What is Jean supposed to do? Liyue has just lost their god – how is she meant to handle that? She can’t simply do nothing, can she? 

“Barbara,” she begins, and it feels as though she’s speaking through a haze, but Barbara looks to her with attentive eyes nonetheless, “is the Holy Lyre repaired yet?” 

The Deaconess nods, albeit a bit unsurely. “I did finish up with the repairs, but… may I ask why?” 

“Because we’re going to need it. Please retrieve it from the Church and bring it here to my office as soon as possible.” 

If something was powerful enough to fell Rex Lapis (because there is no other way, if he is dead then it can only be because he was killed ), then their god is going to need all the protection he can get. Barbatos, for all his strengths, has never been a frontline fighter. The least Jean can do is ensure that he is armed enough to protect himself if needed, and she of all people is well aware of how much the bard can do with just a song. 

She’ll have to find the Favonian Bow somewhere as well. Last she saw, he was using some generic wooden one – a Slingshot perhaps, by the looks of it, though she hadn’t seen it for long enough to be sure. That won’t do at all. 

Mondstadt has the reputation of having an absent god, a negligent Archon, but the truth is far from it. Barbatos walks among his people and treats them as equals – that is why they’re able to be so free. They have all of the protection, but none of the restrictions, because Barbatos stays on their level and understands how they live. He knows the spirit of his nation better than any other Archon, because he lives it each and every day. For a free spirit of wind, he’s unbelievably entrenched in the daily life of his own people. 

It’s merely that only three and a half people really know of that fact – Jean herself, Diluc, and the Traveller (and perhaps her little tagalong ‘guide’, if one really wants to count Paimon). To everyone else, ‘Venti’ is nothing more than their favourite bard, the life of every party who’s found amongst the crowds of a bar more often than not. 

Though… speaking of the Traveller, wasn’t Lumine on her way to Liyue? 

“Cyrus, can you find a way to get a message to the Traveller?” Jean asks. “She was headed to Liyue, the last I heard, so she may be able to shed some light on the situation. If nothing else, it could at least be a heads-up if she hasn’t reached Liyue’s capital yet.” 

Cyrus nods, but then hesitates, a frown growing on his face. “How should I reach her? The paper bird messages won’t work, not with the wind… stopping.” 

Shit, that’s a good point. One of the favoured ways to send a message in Mondstadt is to fold the letter into a triangular shape, like a kite or a bird, and let the wind carry it to its recipient. Without the wind, though, there’s no way for such a message to fly. “Word of mouth will have to suffice. You know the Traveller can use the Teleports, so if needed, she should be able to pop back into Mondstadt to respond and then pick up her journey where she left off.” 

He nods in understanding and exits her office, presumably to attempt to contact Lumine. 

Jean, still seated at her desk, puts her head in her hands and lets out a long, worried sigh. First Barbatos is attacked by one of the Fatui, and now Rex Lapis’s corpse falls from the sky… what on earth is happening in Teyvat? How much longer until Mondstadt is no longer able to withstand the storm growing around them? 

How much longer until someone tries to murder Lord Barbatos again? 

How much longer until someone succeeds?  

oOoOo

Up on one of the many floating islands that dot the clouds above Mondstadt, a certain green-clad bard sits with his legs hanging from the edge. His wings, usually hidden from view by his ability to shape his form as he pleases, are fanned out behind him, enormous white feathers just barely brushing the bright grass of the island’s surface. 

He’s chosen one of the smaller land formations, one that contains nothing more than an apple tree and a few cecilias, one that’s so small and out of the way that there isn’t even an updraft nearby to access it. The only way to get to this particular island is to glide just right from one of the larger ones, or to fly up with wings of one’s own. Only the birds and the winds can reach him here, and no one would think to seek him out here even if they could reach him. He is, for the moment, well and truly hidden. 

And as hidden and alone as he is, he finds himself taking a long draw from the bottle of dandelion wine beside him as he mourns the loss of the heartbeat that once resided beside his own. 

Morax had lived for so many eons – longer, much longer, than Barbatos had ever been conscious and humanoid. Not longer than Barbatos had existed at all, not when he was shaped into being by Istaroth herself, but… of the two of them, Morax had undoubtedly taken the role of the elder god. He had ascended first, after all. 

And now, out of every Archon in the original Seven, the one Archon that Barbatos thought might stay by his side… he’s gone. Forever. 

“How long has it been?” He whispers into the wind, barely a breath, but the sprites respond in an instant just like always. They murmur wordless rumours of Rex Lapis’s body falling from the sky only that morning, of the gossip spreading like wildfire while the people of Liyue hadn’t even had time to deal with the body. 

How do you handle the corpse of a god? 

What sort of funeral rites can be given for a being that’s lived longer than any human can possibly fathom? 

The body is still there, in the middle of Liyue Harbour up on that terrace they use for the Rite of Descension. Barbatos needs to see it. He needs to see for himself that Morax is really and truly gone – without the gnosis beating in his chest to tell him, what else can he trust besides his own eyes? 

He downs the rest of his wine and stands, shaking out his wings in one smooth motion as his green ensemble melts away into an archaic white uniform that he hasn’t worn in centuries. The hood leaves his face deep in shadow, revealing nothing but his twin braids and the glow of his eyes, Anemo teal to match the tattoos that decorate his body. They’re hidden under his usual clothing, concealed by the thin fabric of a typical (if slightly outdated) human outfit, but in the robes of an Archon, they’re on full display. 

Barbatos’s wings spread out behind him, their shape shifting and changing to something more suited for gliding than quick ascensions, and he takes a step off of the floating island, letting the wind catch him as he falls. 

His wings fan out as his legs tuck in – the winds pick up, carrying him far past the borders of Mondstadt, and to the common folk watching below, he is nothing more than a comet of teal streaking across the day-blue sky. Like this, he’s faster than any man or bird, faster than any mortal could ever hope to be, and he reaches Liyue Harbour in mere minutes. 

For a moment he simply waits above the clouds, steeling himself for the sight he’s about to see, but… this isn’t the first time he’s had to look upon the corpse of a friend. It isn’t even the first time he’s had to look upon a body that was meant to be immortal alongside him, had someone not stopped that beating heart long before it ever could have begun to slow or fade. Morax… Morax was only the latest in a long, long line of people that Barbatos should have never had to outlive. 

He appears in a flash of light and a swirl of wind that’s surely out of place on this breezeless day, wings out and hood up to make it obvious who he is meant to be. The ground is still a few meters below him, but he doesn’t bother descending any further to set his feet upon it. The winds cradle him as he drifts closer to the dragon’s corpse lying still in the middle of the terrace, uncaring of how the people in the crowd gasp at his sudden appearance. 

“Isn’t that–” 

“That’s Barbatos!” 

“But he hasn’t been seen in centuries!” 

“Why is he here now?” 

“Rex Lapis is dead, of course another Archon would come to have a look!” 

“But he’s already dead! What more can the Anemo Archon do?” 

“Isn’t he the weakest of the gods?” 

“Sshh, don’t be so loud! What if he hears you?”

“Lord Barbatos.” 

That voice is addressing him directly. Barbatos doesn’t break the gaze he’s fixed on Rex Lapis’s corpse ( wrong, something is wrong ), but he does tilt his head ever so slightly in her direction to show that he is listening. 

“Our god–” She begins, but cuts herself off with a shaky, choked breath before continuing. “Our God is dead, Lord Barbatos. What is it that you want from us?” 

“Must I want something from you?” Barbatos murmurs. His gaze is still fixed on the unmoving corpse. “I have known him for thousands of years. Who says that it’s you I’ve come to see?” 

The woman (Ningguang, he thinks, one of Morax’s prized business leaders) falls silent. 

The body doesn’t look quite right, is the problem. Barbatos is more than familiar with Morax’s dragon form – in fact, he’s probably the one who’s seen the most of it ever, aside from Morax himself. This corpse… it’s close, yes, but it’s just not quite right.  

There should be little veins of gold between his scales, liquid like molten sunlight. There should be sparks of cor lapis in the shine of his antlers and claws. His colours should be richer, his scales should be sharper, his tail should be stronger. It’s an excellent imitation, if one were trying to fool anyone other than Barbatos, but this? This is not the body of Rex Lapis. 

Barbatos tilts his head consideringly, glowing teal eyes casting across the crowd. He recognises a few familiar forms – the Traveller and her little guide, attempting to slip away before someone attempts to implicate them; a merchant from Mondstadt who had come with her Liyuan husband, looking up at her Archon in confusion and awe; the youngest of the Fatui Harbingers, watching the scene unfold with an intent expression as he too prepares to sneak off. 

And then– 

Anemo teal meets cor lapis, and it feels as if the second heartbeat that once resided in Barbatos’s chest has restarted once more. 

So that’s the game you’re playing.  

Barbatos turns away from the false corpse to face Ningguang, still held in the air above her – even though he’s half her size, she’s still forced to look up to meet his eyes. He can see the reflection of the teal glow in her own pupils. “Rex Lapis is dead. I’ve come to fulfill a contract.” 

“A… contract, Lord Barbatos?” Ningguang asks with a slight frown. “What contract might that be?” 

“A simple one. Should myself or Rex Lapis ever fall, we swore to lend aid and protection to the other’s nation in their time of need. If Liyue finds itself in need of assistance that only an Archon can provide, I will do my best to uphold my promise.” 

It was never a true contract – not a formal one, anyways. It was nothing more than a promise whispered in the aftermath of a war that Barbatos still wishes he could forget. 

“If I die,” Barbatos had whispered. “When I die, promise me you’ll take care of Mondstadt?” 

Morax had held him tight then, safe in those arms where nothing could reach him. “I would never let you die before me, Barbatos. But… if it will help your peace of mind, know that I will always protect your beloved nation in your absence.” 

“Thank you, Morax. I hope you know… that I’ll do the same for Liyue, if it’s ever needed.” 

As much as Barbatos had wanted to kiss him right then, he hadn’t. He had known, even then, that no matter how caring and kind and safe Morax always was, it could never go beyond surface level, not with the way they both were. As much as Barbatos loved him, and loves him still, he knew even then that his overwhelming love could not be returned.

And now, here he stood before his beloved’s false corpse, and if not for those cor lapis eyes he’d seen in the crowd, he would never know if Morax was truly alive or dead. Where did it leave him, loving a god who would let Barbatos think he was truly the last one standing? 

Ningguang is bowing and saying platitudes of some variety, but none of it is important. Barbatos casts one last heavy glance at the corpse of the dragon before he lets the winds dissolve him, vanishing in a swirl of teal winds and leaving nothing but a handful of dandelion seeds behind. Let the people of Liyue wonder where he has gone – he has more important things to do with his time than stand around and be ogled. 

oOoOo

Snow is beginning to fall over Mondstadt. 

Without the ever-present zephyrs keeping the chill of winter away, the northmost nation of Teyvat is experiencing their first frost in what must be thousands of years. Diluc’s Pyro Vision is in high demand for clearing the snow off of the windmills so that the various Anemo-using volunteers can move the blades again – they’re still and silent with no gale to move them, but the power they generate is still needed. 

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Venti. No, that’s a lie – if the rumour Cyrus heard is to be believed, Diluc knows exactly what’s wrong with Venti. It’s just… difficult, sometimes, to reconcile the image of the carefree little bard with the enormous statue in front of the Church. 

Because if what Cyrus said is true, if Rex Lapis is dead, then that means Barbatos – Venti – has just lost his oldest friend. 

Diluc doesn’t really know how to handle that. How do you comfort someone over the loss of a friend they’ve had for thousands of years? Barbatos and Rex Lapis had known each other for longer than Diluc can even fathom, and now one of them is just… gone. Dropped dead with no warning, leaving Lord Barbatos as the last survivor of the original Seven Archons. 

No wonder the winds have stopped. Diluc can’t even imagine how badly Venti must be mourning right now. 

If Venti shows up to the Angel’s Share any time soon, Diluc decides, he won’t charge him for a single drink. Of course, he’ll also have to keep a closer eye on just how much Venti is drinking (because even if he’s never seen Venti get truly blackout drunk yet, that doesn’t mean it can’t happen, and Diluc doesn’t want to be the first to find out if gods can get alcohol poisoning), but that shouldn’t be too difficult if he has Charles helping. Jean would probably lend a hand as well, out of concern for Venti if not as a favour to Diluc himself. 

Mondstadt as a whole is… coping, he supposes, more with the loss of the wind than with the death of Rex Lapis. The Geo Archon’s demise isn’t widespread knowledge just yet, but with the unnatural stillness of the air, any soul in Mondstadt can tell that something terrible must have occurred. 

Still, with Jean leading the effort and the Knights of Favonius at her heels (not to mention the assistance from the Church, which he’s sure they have Deaconess Barbara to thank for), the whole of Mondstadt has been handling the situation surprisingly well. Those with Anemo Visions have been stepping in for the missing wind when needed, the Knights have been patrolling twice as often in order to make sure that no citizen is left without assistance in such a dire time, and even the civilians have been lending a hand to each other with tasks like melting ice or shovelling snow. The snow had begun to pile up within a few hours of the first flake, and it hadn’t stopped once since then. 

Diluc has never been more grateful for his Pyro Vision and its ability to keep him warm than he is now. He may be more susceptible to the cold because of how his body has adapted to withstand high heats, but with his own source of warmth, he’s able to heat up any room within mere minutes. 

He can’t help but wonder if this is how Mondstadt would have always been, if not for Barbatos’s interference. They all knew on some vague level that Barbatos’s winds had ‘driven away the harsh winter’, if only from the myths and legends passed down through song and word of mouth, but Diluc, at least, had never considered it to be so literal. He had certainly never imagined that the second the winds stopped, the winter would return anew to reclaim the now-defenseless land. 

Of course, he had also never imagined that the wind would stop. Ever. 

“Jean, is there anything I can do to help?” He asks, jogging to catch up to the Acting Grandmaster as she walks briskly towards, presumably, another problem that needs her attention. 

She casts him a glance, but doesn’t slow or stop, even as she responds. “Can you use your Pyro to melt snow and ice without catching anything on fire? Even if it’s something wooden that’s been iced over?” 

Diluc nods. “It takes a good amount of fine control, but yes, I can promise you that I won’t catch anything on fire. What needs to be thawed?” 

“The hinges of the gate have frozen over. Normally, I’d leave it for last since the gate is so rarely closed anyways, but with the way things have been going lately… I’d rather be safe than sorry. If you finish that quickly enough, Sarah could also use a hand clearing the snow away from the back exit of Good Hunter. The door opens outwards, you know, so it can’t be opened if there’s anything in the way.” 

“Got it. I’ll handle the gate first, then check in with Sarah.” 

“Oh, and could you tell Swan to start spreading the word for people to stay inside and stay warm? We’ve already got all our resident Anemo and Pyro users lending assistance, plus all the Knights – I’d rather the civilians stay safe in their homes than try to help and end up with frostbite.” 

“Will do. Anything else before I head off?” 

Jean pauses for a moment, thinking, then shakes her head. “No, that’s all, I think. Thank you for the help, Diluc, we really appreciate it.” 

He bids Jean farewell after that and takes off for the main city gate, readying the heat of his Vision in his palms. The hinges are metal, but the frame of the gate is wooden – it had never been a priority for Mondstadt’s city gate to hold up against a crisis. The best way to thaw the hinges is to channel the heat into his hands, and then melt the ice through touch. Hopefully, his gloves will be enough to protect him if the metal starts to sear. 

Swan sees him coming, and waves him down with a strained grin. He’s the only one guarding the gate, which is unusual in and of itself, but Diluc supposes that Jean must have grabbed every available personnel for the bigger tasks, like the windmills. “Diluc, there you are! Here to help with the gate?” 

“Sure am,” he confirms. “Oh, and Jean wanted me to tell you that all civilians should be informed to stay inside their homes and stay warm for the time being. We’ve got enough hands on deck to deal with the current issues, the best thing they can do for Mondstadt is stay safe and out of the way.” 

Swan nods firmly as he steps aside, allowing Diluc to inspect the frozen hinges. “You got it. Ah… doesn’t that include you, though?” 

“No, it doesn’t. I have a Pyro Vision, I’ve offered my assistance with clearing ice and snow. Stand back a minute, I’m going to heat up the metal so that the ice will melt off of it. Can’t use flames here or else the gate might catch, so this is our best option.” 

He places both hands on the frozen metal and presses in, feeling the odd sensation of hot and cold mingling on his palms as the Pyro energy seeps into the ice. Water begins to drip down within seconds, pouring away from the metal with a steamy hiss. It doesn’t take long before all of the ice is gone, and Diluc yanks his hands away before the metal can draw in enough heat to burn him back, even through the leather of his gloves. He may be heat resistant to a point, but he’s certainly not heat proof.  

“Let me guess. Jean put you up to unfreezing the gate hinges?” 

The familiar voice from behind him makes Diluc’s brow twitch, and he carefully schools his face into a neutral (enough) expression as he turns around to face the man who had just walked up. “Captain Kaeya. To what do I owe the… pleasure? ” 

Kaeya shrugs smoothly, strolling up to stand beside him as he inspects the hinges. “Came to see how it was going… and to ask if you’d checked up on the vineyard. Has the frost spread that far south yet?” 

“Not that I know of,” Diluc sighs, “though that might not be the case by tonight. I know the Anemo crystalflies generate some breezes of their own, which gives the winery a bit more protection than the rest of the area, but I doubt it’ll be enough to drive off a godsforsaken snowstorm. ” 

“Mm. Doubt I’d be much help, having a Cryo Vision and all.” 

For some reason, Kaeya sounds almost… disappointed about that fact. It’s hidden under a veneer of nonchalance, just like everything else about him, but Diluc has known this man ( his brother, he carefully doesn’t think) for too many years now. Kaeya’s unhappy about being unable to help the winery… which implies that, given the opportunity, he would want to help. 

…Huh. 

Deciding that this is most certainly something to mull over when they’re not facing down Mondstadt’s first blizzard in centuries, Diluc quickly puts that realisation out of his mind, turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “If the gate is fine, then I’m off to Good Hunter. Sarah needs help clearing out the area around the back door, or else she won’t be able to get in or out.” 

Kaeya nods. “You do that. I’ve got to speak to Jean about something – Knights business, of course. You understand.” 

And there it is again, that stupid, condescending tone that he always pulls out just as Diluc is starting to think that maybe his not-brother isn’t being a rat bastard on purpose. It’s as though Kaeya wants Diluc to be mad at him. 

(That’s going in the box with the other realisation for later. Diluc will be coming back to that when Mondstadt is no longer in crisis.) 

“Diluc.” 

The voice from behind him makes him jump, and he whips around to see who it is – only to be taken aback at the sight of a familiar form. “Venti? Where’ve you been?” 

“Liyue,” he says, and doesn’t elaborate. His expression is graver than usual – which doesn’t take much, given that it isn’t usually grave at all, but now, it’s downright solemn. “Do either of you know where Jean is? I need to speak with her.” 

“She’s dealing with the snow,” Kaeya informs him. Diluc had expected him to walk away, but apparently the presence of Venti was enough for him to put off his knightly duties. 

Venti’s brow furrows. “Dealing with?” 

“Well, yes. It isn’t a problem yet, but if it piles up too much then it will be, not to mention that it’s all settling in place because of the lack of wind.” 

“Hm.” Venti turns and walks away from them without another word. Diluc almost calls after him, almost follows to see what the hell’s going on, but… he knows what’s going on, doesn’t he? He knows who Venti really is, and he knows the quick-spreading rumours about what’s happening in Liyue. If Venti just came from there… 

Well. Maybe just for today, he can cut the bard a break. 

He and Kaeya exchange glances, and it’s surprisingly comfortable until the both of them seem to realise who, exactly, they’re exchanging glances with. Diluc pushes down the pang of hurt as Kaeya looks away far too quickly, but he doesn’t stop his once-brother from walking away. 

He’d better go and see Sarah at Good Hunter. Jean’s got enough on her plate without having to worry about snow-blocked restaurant exits. 

oOoOo

The snow has apparently returned to Mondstadt for the first time in what must be well over two thousand years, which Venti absolutely did not mean to do. 

He knew that his siblings had fallen still in response to his grief, but he hadn’t bothered telling the winds to keep blowing – mostly because he’d had other things on his mind. Mondstadt, however, has never been without the winds before. This short respite won’t affect them, not beyond a bit of snowfall and confusion, but he can’t allow the stillness to continue. 

(Venti has to think of his nation, of Mondstadt, before all else. Even in mourning, he cannot put himself first.) 

“God, I need a drink,” he murmurs to himself, running his fingers through his bangs and down his face. He doesn’t have time for that though, so he sighs and puts it out of his mind. 

With a flick of his fingers, the Thousand Winds respond to his wordless call and a soft breeze begins to swirl through the city, brushing off the top layer of powdery snow and sending it flying through the air. It looks so inviting, so enticing, but he can’t even find joy in such a simple pleasure now. 

Rex Lapis is dead. Morax lives, but Rex Lapis is dead, and he didn’t tell Venti.  

Why? 

Is this payback for all those years in slumber? But Morax has always known that Venti has no control over that, he knows how much it will cost Venti to force himself to stay awake, so how could he hold that against him? Or could it be that Morax had simply tired of Venti, and wished to be free of him without having to explain himself? 

Venti pushes open the door to the Knights of Favonius’ headquarters, strolling right past the guards and straight into Jean’s office. A few of them give him an odd look, but no one actually stops him, and so he ignores them entirely.

As he expected, Jean is sitting in her office speaking to a trio of Knights. She glances briefly at him when he opens the door, then looks again once her mind registers who it is. 

“You have your marching orders, Knights, so go on,” she orders, effectively dismissing her subordinates. As soon as they’ve all left the room, she shuts the door behind them all and ushers Venti over to the soft couch along the side wall where they both sit down. “Venti, I haven’t seen you all day.” 

“I’m sorry about the snow,” he says, because that’s as good a place to start as any. Her brow furrows, likely at his serious tone, but he can’t bring himself to fix it right now. “It should stop in an hour or two – I wouldn’t allow Mondstadt to be damaged. There will be a bit of snow on the ground for a day or two, but it won’t impair anyone.” 

“I’m less worried about the snow right now, and more worried about you,” Jean responds. That’s a surprise. “You disappeared this morning when the wind stopped, and I heard something rather concerning…” 

“About the death of Rex Lapis?” 

Jean frowns, but nods. 

“I was just in Liyue. It’s… true, but also not.” 

“How so?” 

“Well,” Venti says with a mirthless chuckle, “apparently, Morax has had enough of being an Archon. A false corpse fell from the sky during the Rite of Descension so that all of his citizens would assume him to be dead, and meanwhile he was standing amongst them, disguised as a human.” 

“What?” Jean’s brow furrows. “Why would he do such a thing? That doesn’t seem like something he would do, though I only really know him from the myths…” 

“No, it isn’t something he would do – not without reason. And worse, I would probably know the reason if he had thought to tell me he was faking his death, rather than leave me to assume my oldest friend has just been murdered.” 

Jean gasps. “But why would he not tell you? That seems…” 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Venti, if there’s… if there’s anything I can do, either as a Knight or as a friend, don’t hesitate to ask. Even if you just want to hide in my office and avoid everyone, just say the word.” 

“Thank you, Jean.” He smiles softly. In moments like this, she really does resemble her ancestor. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

And with that, he stands and vanishes, returning to the winds and letting his siblings carry him far, far away from the city he refuses to hold dominion over. With any luck, he’ll be alone up on Starsnatch Cliff, and he can scream and cry to his heart’s content as he mourns the loss of a friend who isn’t dead at all. 

Chapter Text

Zhongli is familiar with the sensation of still air. 

He felt it after battles, once upon a time – that dead moment when all of their enemies were felled, yet the world still held its breath in anticipation of an attack that would never come. It wasn’t entirely uncommon in Liyue, either. As close as they were to Mondstadt, their nation had a soft breeze more often than not, but they didn’t have the influence of the Anemo Archon keeping the winds endlessly blowing. 

As such, it shouldn’t have felt as unsettling as it did when the Exuvia’s corpse fell from the sky, and the winds stopped blowing entirely. 

Zhongli was standing in the crowd to watch the Rite of Descension, partially to keep an eye on his plan and ensure it was going well, and partially because that was simply what a Liyuean human would do. He was meant to be living amongst his people as a human now, so it only made sense to partake in typical human activities. 

He expected the chaos and panic that came with the death of a god, even if there were no characteristic natural disasters that would normally follow an Archon’s demise. What he did not expect, however, was the one who chose to make an appearance in response to his supposed death. 

Zhongli has not seen Barbatos in about five centuries, after all. How was Zhongli to know that the Anemo Archon would choose now to show up? 

But there he is, floating in midair in all his glory. His clothes are just as familiar as his oddly unchanging silhouette, the exact draperies of white that he had always worn to attend Archon meetings in the past – back when they still held those meetings, that is. Back before Teyvat had begun to splinter and the Archons had withdrawn. Back before Barbatos had fallen into slumber for five hundred years, and all but dropped off the face of the world as a result. 

To see him now… it isn’t what Zhongli would ever expect, not from Barbatos. 

Ningguang addresses him, as the highest-ranking person in the terrace (that they know of, anyways). She tells him that Rex Lapis is dead, asks him what he seeks by coming to Liyue at this moment. When Barbatos responds… Zhongli has never heard his voice so solemn, so mournful. 

“Must I want something from you? I have known him for thousands of years. Who says that it’s you I’ve come to see?” 

His tone is low, and his gaze doesn’t once stray from where it rests upon the false corpse. He speaks plainly, but archaically, just as Zhongli would expect from one such as him. Does he even know this current time’s vernacular, or has he only woken up so recently that he’s had no time to familiarise himself with anything modern? 

(Is Morax’s death the first thing he knew of, after waking from his centuries-long slumber? Was the shift in the Archons’ balance what had woken him in the first place? 

Suddenly, Zhongli begins to feel very much like he’s made a grave error in judgement.) 

“Rex Lapis is dead,” Barbatos states quietly. “I’ve come to fulfill a contract.” 

A contract? What could he possibly– 

Oh. 

Oh, no. Zhongli knows exactly what contract Barbatos refers to. He would never hold Barbatos to such carelessly spoken words, would never dare to cage the wind or pin it down with a responsibility that he didn’t properly consent to, but… does Barbatos know that? 

Or does he think that even in death, the honourable Rex Lapis will never forgive a broken contract or an unfulfilled promise, no matter how informal? 

I would forgive you for anything, Zhongli wants to tell him, if only it would mean that you would come back to me again someday. 

(He knows Barbatos will never stay tied down to one place, and he has accepted that. He’s accepted that loving the wind itself means he can never hope to have that love known or reciprocated, for it is all-consuming and would only hinder Barbatos’ freedom. 

But that doesn’t mean Zhongli doesn’t miss him so much it feels like agony, every time his beloved leaves with no word of when he’ll return.) 

He watches and listens as Barbatos tells Ningguang of what they had agreed to so many centuries ago – of the deal that Zhongli always thought would never affect Barbatos. Of that contract that was meant to be Morax’s and Morax’s alone to fulfill. He wants so badly to tell Barbatos that it isn’t necessary, that he doesn’t have to take on responsibility he has never asked for nor wanted, but he can’t. 

To reveal himself now would destroy everything he’s worked for. It was so difficult to get all this right, to wear this human face like a second skin and not an ill-fitting mask, to shed his Archon duties for the simple life of a funeral consultant. As much as he wants to show himself, he can’t. 

And yet, for just a moment before Barbatos flees Liyue once more, sky-teal eyes meet his own, and Zhongli knows deep in his soul that Barbatos recognises him. 

Still, the Anemo Archon doesn’t say a word, only vanishing in a swirl of wind as the air goes death-still once more. 

oOoOo

It has been several centuries since Zhongli has even thought of visiting Mondstadt, and several more since he actually did so. 

(That isn’t strictly true, not in the confines of his own mind – he thinks of it every time he thinks of Barbatos, thinks of spending days without any responsibility and with only the company of his oldest and most precious friend to fill his days, even if he never truly allows himself to indulge in the fantasy. 

It’s too good to be true, and he knows better than to lust after what he cannot have.) 

Today, however, he is not bound by the limits of his responsibilities as Archon of Liyue. In fact, that lack of responsibility is precisely why he finds himself walking the long road to Mondstadt. 

It had been surprisingly easy to persuade Hu Tao to allow him to leave his job for an inordinate length of time, though perhaps he had let a little more desperation leak into his voice than he’d meant to. Regardless of the reason, she’d sent him off with a cheery wave and a promise that there would still be plenty of work for him once he came back (though he won’t admit aloud that he isn’t sure if that was meant to be a reassurance or a threat). 

He could fly, if he wanted to. He could reach Mondstadt in a matter of hours, rather than taking the multi-day walk up north to get to his destination. What’s stopping him, however, is exactly why he needs to go to Mondstadt in the first place. 

Zhongli gave up his identity as Rex Lapis, and he cannot reveal himself after such a public demise, not unless he wants to destroy all of the effort he put into transferring his power to human hands. 

So, he travels like a human would. Follows the beaten path past Wangshu Inn and through the Stone Gate, until he finds himself in the ever-familiar wild fields of Barbatos’s territory. It has been many a century since he’s last come to this place, but never once has its visage slipped his mind. He remembers the windwheel asters spinning in the gentle breeze just as clearly as if he’d just seen them yesterday. 

Once he’s entered Mondstadt, he’s quickly reminded of just how small it is compared to Liyue, because he finds himself already approaching the city in no time at all. The bridge over Cider Lake is the same as he remembers as well, a monument to the unchanging nature of stone even after all these years. 

(What does that say about him, he wonders?) 

Zhongli doesn’t recognise either of the guards standing to the sides of the city’s entrance, though he didn't expect to. As he approaches, they both stare at him with twin unreadable expressions before the one on the left shoots his partner a significant look and slips away from his post, disappearing into the bustle of the city’s market. Zhongli frowns slightly at the man’s lack of care for his assigned job, but then again, the people of Mondstadt do have a reputation for being somewhat lackadaisical. Perhaps it isn’t all that unusual here, even if such insubordination is unheard of amongst the Millelith. 

Upon entering the city, however, Zhongli finds himself faced with another small issue that he had neglected to consider. Though he’s sure he’ll know Barbatos with only a glance, how is he meant to find one god in a city that supposedly hasn’t seen him for centuries? 

Well. When in doubt, go where the alcohol flows. If nothing else, he may be able to purchase a gift for Barbatos in the hopes of softening up the attitude he’s surely going to have. 

It only takes a few moments of aimlessly strolling around and eavesdropping before he deduces the location of a popular bar called Angel’s Share. It seems like the sort of place that Barbatos would frequent, so he starts to head in that direction, ignoring the odd looks he seems to garner from just about everyone whose eyes fall upon him.  Perhaps they simply aren’t used to foreign visitors? He had never known Mondstadt to be xenophobic, but if a Liyuean guest was uncommon, that would explain why so many people seem to hone in on his presence. 

No matter – as long as he isn’t interrupted in his reason for coming to Mondstadt in the first place, he can ignore the odd looks and frequent whispers. They are of no consequence to him. 

oOoOo

There’s a strange Liyuean man in his tavern, and Diluc is suspicious as fuck. 

The thing is, when one has lived in Mondstadt for long enough, it becomes second nature to notice the oddities that set apart those who are human and those who have something weirder going on. Venti, for instance, was clocked pretty quickly as some sort of oddity, although Diluc is fairly certain that the general assumption is ‘run-of-the-mill wind spirit’, not ‘Anemo Archon Barbatos’. 

Given this well-earned propensity for the strange, it’s fairly obvious to Diluc within moments of seeing him that this man is not a human. He’s not even remotely doing a good job of passing as one, either. 

In fact, Diluc would bet real mora that Jean has already been made aware of this man’s presence in the city. It’s less a matter of Mondstadt having a problem with non-humans, per se (considering Venti, how could they?), but more a matter of spirits and the like posing a rather large threat if they arrive with unsavoury intentions. Jean won’t do anything to this visitor unless he strikes first, but she’ll want to keep an eye on him just to make sure that no preemptive actions need to be taken. 

Now, Diluc normally hates working with the knights of Favonius. As a matter of fact, he’ll usually do pretty much anything to avoid it, up to and including acts of vigilantism. In this case, however, he’s willing to concede that it would probably be for the best if he were to follow Jean’s lead. 

That isn’t to say that he’s going to ignore the man and allow Jean to have all the fun. No, Diluc is absolutely going to keep his own tabs on this man – something about the guy just rubs him the wrong way. 

Maybe it’s the way he moves, like he was carved from stone and hasn’t entirely learned how flesh and blood works yet. Maybe it’s the piercing amber of his eyes, blinking far less than they should, if he’s even blinking at all. Maybe it’s the way he casts his gaze around the bar with all the focus of a general scrutinising a battlefield, clearly searching for something… or someone. 

He had better not be here for Venti. That’s the only non-human that regularly frequents Angel’s Share (Albedo does pop in from time to time, but he’s more often found in his lab on Dragonspine than indulging in a glass of wine), and somehow, Diluc gets the feeling that this man isn’t here for a regular mortal. 

But is he here for Venti, or Barbatos? And why? 

The man takes a seat at the end of the bar and Diluc takes the opportunity to sidle up to him, carefully keeping his tone level. “What’ll it be?” 

A moment of stillness passes before the man’s eyes flick to him, and he responds. “Ah… I’m waiting for someone. No need to trouble yourself.” 

…So he comes to a bar, and then refuses to order anything. That’s definitely not suspicious. 

“Uh-huh,” Diluc says slowly, not doing much to hide his obvious skepticism. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Are you visiting a friend or something?” 

“Something like that, yes. My name is Zhongli – apologies for not introducing myself earlier.” 

He offers Diluc a hand, which Diluc pointedly doesn’t take. “Diluc Ragnvindr. I own this tavern – it’s been in my family for generations.” 

“I see. A noble pursuit, upholding family traditions.” 

“I suppose.” Diluc shrugs. “Who is it that you’re meeting? I can probably tell you if they plan to come by later or not.” 

(Whether he will tell Zhongli that, regardless of if he knows or not, is entirely up to Diluc’s own whims.) 

“Ah, that would be much appreciated. I am here to meet… an old friend, I suppose – he is small, likely dressed in green or blue, and he wears his hair in two braids on either side of his face. Have you seen anyone like that?” 

Diluc stops, narrowing his eyes. He lets his voice grow in volume ever so slightly, just enough to draw the attention of the nearest bar patrons. “And what exactly do you want with our bard?” 

The few patrons who hear him glance over, giving Zhongli suspicious looks of their own. One leans over and murmurs something into her friend’s ear. Another man leans in to listen to what she’s saying, repeating it to his own companion only a moment later. 

Rumours spread fast in Mondstadt, especially if someone is purposefully fanning the flames – or if the rumour originated in a tavern. It will likely be halfway across the city within the hour. 

Hopefully, that will be enough time for Venti to hear of it and decide how he wants to respond. 

Zhongli’s brow furrows, and he hesitates before responding. “I have no ill intentions with your… ‘bard’, as you call him. I merely wish to speak with him.” 

Diluc sniffs. “That’s irrelevant. If he wants to speak to you, he’ll find you himself.” 

He turns on his heel and walks to the other side of the bar, pointedly ignoring Zhongli’s pinched look. Charles casts him a wary glance, but Diluc shakes his head – there’s no need to remove the guy, not unless he actively does something to warrant it. For now, he’ll simply keep an eye on the situation, and make sure that no further measures need to be taken. 

Hours later, though, the man is still sitting right in that same seat. It doesn’t look like he’s moved an inch – by this point, word has gotten around that he wants something with their bard, Mondstadt’s darling in all but name, and the people have taken this just as well as Diluc had expected them to. 

Never let it be said that Mondstadt is uncaring. For all their emphasis on freedom, the people of Mondstadt can be surprisingly possessive and protective when the situation calls for it. 

The sun is beginning to fall below the horizon, painting the first floor in shades of orange and gold through the open windows, when Venti finally enters the bar. At first, he simply steps inside with his usual cheer, only slightly dimmed by the absolutely atrocious events of the past few days, and Diluc is already reaching up to get his favourite vintage from the highest shelf. 

That, of course, is when Venti sees Zhongli. 

His eyes catch on the Liyuean man as he turns, and for a moment, they simply stare at each other. Zhongli is looking at him with shock and anticipation, but Venti’s face is utterly blank. Then, he turns right back around and walks out of the bar again without another word. 

Diluc is sure that he could set Zhongli’s head on fire with how hard he’s currently glaring at him. He has a Pyro Vision, it wouldn’t even be that odd. 

Unlike earlier when Zhongli had first arrived, the whole bar is now openly glaring at him, and if not for the trio of Knights in the corner, Diluc is sure that a punch would have already been thrown. In fact, he’s tempted to throw one himself. Whatever Zhongli was seeking Venti out for, Venti clearly doesn’t want to talk to him, and now he’s been driven out of his favourite bar in an attempt to avoid this interloper. 

Slamming his hand down on the counter, Diluc regards Zhongli with a cold glare, almost daring him to talk back. “I believe it’s best if you leave, sir. Those who upset Mondstadt’s favourite bard are not welcome in my establishment.” 

“I did not intend…” Zhongli begins, but he trails off almost immediately, glancing around at the hostile room. “I see. I shall take my leave, then.” 

And take it he does, exiting the bar without a backward glance. Diluc watches him leave, waiting a moment before leaning over to Charles and murmuring a request for him to ferry a message to Jean. Diluc may not enjoy working with the inefficient Knight of Favonius, but, well. Jean, if no one else, will always be an ally in this endeavour. 

oOoOo

Jean Gunnhildr, Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius, is not above the law. 

She is, however, the law itself. In the city of Mondstadt, what Jean says goes – although, every regulation makes it quite clear that the people have the right to revolt if they decide she’s gotten a little too big for her britches. Luckily, Jean would never misuse the power that her highly influential position affords her. 

…Well. Not towards the citizens she’s sworn to protect, that is. The outlander from Liyue, whose business in Mondstadt apparently involves upsetting their god, is not among that number. 

Diluc’s message, carried by his trusty falcon, had reached her in record time. Some stranger who calls himself ‘Zhongli’ has entered their city in search of a rather particular bard (and it hadn’t escaped either of their notices that he only asked for Venti by description instead of by name), and upon finding that bard, the mere sight of him had apparently distressed Venti so much that he turned right around and left his favourite bar in all of Teyvat without a single word. 

Not only does Jean know of Venti’s distress by way of Diluc’s letter, but she notices it in the breeze, as well. Her Anemo Vision grants her enough of a connection to the winds that she can practically feel the turmoil through the way the air hangs humid and heavy around her. If they’re not careful, if Venti doesn’t get a shoulder to cry on before he reaches his boiling point, they’re in for one hell of a storm. 

Jean, for a number of reasons (most of all that she would hate to see Venti so upset at all, but especially after the apparent death of his friend), would very much like to avoid this. 

The civilians of Mondstadt are almost as worried as she is about their bard. He is the city’s darling, after all, and as such, it takes barely any time at all to figure out where he’s gone. Wagner had seen him run out of the city, Huffman had noticed him making his way to Windrise while out on patrol, and according to Amber, he’d been curled up at the base of the tree when she’d last spotted him while flying by on her glider. 

Hopefully, Vennessa’s tree will be able to offer him some comfort until Jean can get over there herself. Before she seeks out their upset god, though, there’s something else she needs to take care of – and thankfully, her citizens are able to help her with that as well. 

Zhongli, just as the townsfolk had told her, is sitting slumped on the edge of the town square’s fountain when she finds him. It’s an odd look for him, someone who seems like he’s never anything less than perfectly poised, but… Jean finds a strange sense of satisfaction in the sight when she thinks of how Venti had reacted to him earlier. He should be miserable, if he’s going to upset not only Mondstadt’s beloved god, but their favourite bard like that. 

She strides right up to him, confident and unphased like she’s always been taught to be, and stops short about a foot away. Her stance is perfectly strong – unshakeable, even. “What is your business in Mondstadt?” 

A moment passes before Zhongli’s gaze moves from the stone ground beneath him to her face. “What business of it is yours, young madam?” 

“It is my business,” Jean says, “when you upset Mondstadt’s most treasured bard. I am the Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius, the closest thing a city of freedom will ever accept to a leader, and I won’t ask again. What is your business here?” 

Zongli regards her for a long moment, sitting up straight to look her in the eyes. His gaze is oddly orange – almost like a blaze of fire. It’s almost unsettling, if Jean weren’t used to Venti’s Anemo-teal eyes boring holes in her soul every single day. “I… am here to see an old friend, I suppose. I wished to speak with him, but it seems he has no desire to speak to me.” 

An old friend. That sparks something in Jean’s mind – draconically orange eyes, combined with his land of origin and Venti’s obvious recognition of him, and then after what Venti had said about the false corpse… 

“So it’s you,” Jean scowls, supremely unimpressed. “You had better be here to apologise.” 

Slow and steady, he nods. “I believe one is in order, yes.” 

“Do you? Or do you just think it’s the best way to appease?” 

“Pardon?” 

“I hope you know, sir, that we’re extraordinarily fond of Venti in Mondstadt. To know that an outlander has upset him is greatly distressing to our people, as I'm sure you can understand, so allow me to say this in a way that leaves no room for doubt.” 

Jean leans in, refusing to break Rex Lapis’s gaze. She can feel the citizens of Mondstadt around her, all watching the confrontation as well. Kaeya in particular is close enough to jump in if need be, and she can sense the other knights lurking around the outskirts of the square, just in case. Her people have no fear of power, tyrants, nor gods – it’s a fact that’s held true for thousands of years, and it will continue to hold for thousands more. 

“You will apologise to him, and you will do so sincerely. If he doesn’t want to hear it, you will leave, and if you don’t, prepare to be removed. I don’t care who or what you are. This is Mondstadt, not Liyue, and we have neither the room nor desire for power or absolution within our borders.” 

Zhongli, still unblinking and unwavering, nods. “I understand.” 

“Good.” Jean straightens, turning on her heel to head back in the direction of the gates. Windrise is where she needs to be right now – though, just in case, she gives Kaeya a pointed nod as she leaves. She can trust her Cavalry Captain to keep an eye on the wayward ex-Archon of Liyue for the moment, at least until Venti feels calm enough to hear him out. 

The walk to Windrise feels much shorter than usual, perhaps because of the near-invisible wind sprites urging her forwards with their gentle breezes. As she approaches Vennessa’s tree, she spots the familiar green shape curled into a ball at the base of its trunk, and she suppresses another surge of anger at Rex Lapis. 

Being pissed off at someone else’s god won’t help hers right now, though, so in her mind Jean labels him with the word ‘bastard’ and leaves it at that. 

Venti obviously senses her coming if the constriction of his own arms wrapped around himself is anything to go by – however, he doesn’t move until she comes to sit down beside him. It’s only then that he moves his face from where he’s buried it in his knees, meeting her soft gaze with a tired one of his own. 

“He’s here,” Venti murmurs, knowing he won’t need to explain the rest for Jean to understand. 

Jean nods, scooching closer so the little god can lean himself up against her. “I know. Do you want to talk about it?” 

Venti shakes his head, and for a moment they sit in melancholy silence, before he lets out a sigh. “No. I should. I don’t… he only showed up here after he saw me standing over that– that fake corpse, and I… I don't know.” 

“Does it upset you that he came after, and not before?” 

“Mhm.” Venti nods, pressing his head into her shoulder. He’s not quite tall enough to lean on it, but this is close enough. “Why… why didn’t he tell me? I would have kept his secret. I’ve always kept his secrets.” 

“I don’t know why. He says that he’s here to apologise, but I don’t know if he’s being sincere or not. I don’t trust him.” 

Venti lets out a soft sigh. “It’s not that we can’t trust him. I just– he didn’t trust me. I don’t know what I did…” 

What I did to lose his trust, Jean finishes in her mind. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Venti. I can’t answer your questions in his stead, but I know that much, at least.” 

“Then what should I do? If, if he just doesn’t trust me anymore, then…” 

“You could accept his apology, if you want to, or you could tell him to fuck off and go home. Either is justified.” 

At the sound of her cursing, a rare occurrence for someone who’s usually so collected, Venti laughs. “I can’t just kick him out, Jean, what if– you know he might not leave…” 

“Then I’ll force him to. I already told him that if you didn’t want him here, he had better remove himself or he’d be removed. He’s well aware that I’m willing to face off with a god.” 

“Jean!” 

“He isn’t my god. I’m not beholden to him, and isn’t he supposed to be dead now anyways? Where does he get off pretending he has any authority at all, let alone in someone else’s lands? He comes into Mondstadt and chases you out of your own bar, he’d better be prepared for your city to be pissed about it.” 

Venti giggles, surreptitiously rubbing at his eyes to get rid of any stray tears that Jean had pointedly not been mentioning to avoid embarrassing him. “Thanks, Jean. I mean it. Please don’t exile Morax, but… still.” 

“Of course.” 

“Can you… do you think you could tell him to meet me up on Starsnatch Cliff? I don’t really… want to have that conversation in the middle of the city.” 

Jean nods. “Consider it done. Are you feeling better now?” 

Venti rubs at his nose one last time before sniffling and hauling himself to his feet. “Mhm. A lot better than before, at least.” 

“Good. You head on up to the cliff, and I’ll send him up after you, yeah? And if you need me to kick him out of the country… just say the word, and it will be done.” 

“Thank you, Jean, truly. You are… one of the best friends I could ever hope for.” 

oOoOo

Zhongli finds Barbatos up on Starsnatch cliff. 

His clothes are different, but his face is the same. Those teal-tipped dual braids are unmistakable, even as they sway gently in the breeze when his old friend, his most beloved companion, turns to face him. 

“Morax,” Barbatos murmurs. 

“It’s Zhongli now,” he replies. “Barbatos.” 

“It’s Venti now.” 

Even his name has changed. He always did this in the past, shed his old identity like a layer of dead scales and shucked on a new one with no trouble at all. Zhongli has always been in awe of his miraculous ability to adapt, over and over and over again despite how the world changes so quickly around him. 

That must be the true difference between the wind and the earth, he supposes. The winds can change whenever they like, and the earth will always be the same until someone forces it not to be. 

Zhongli walks up the cliff to sit beside Venti, hanging his legs beside the bard’s own to dangle over the ledge. It feels like a risky place to sit, but Zhongli will catch them both if they fall – not that Venti would need his assistance, what with all one thousand of the winds at his disposal. Even disregarding that, Venti has wings of his own, does he not? He has no need for Zhongli’s assistance in his own territory. 

He… has no need for Zhongli. 

“I am sorry,” Zhongli tells him, turning to meet Venti’s unblinking gaze. “I did not mean to cause you distress. I am so sorry, Venti.” 

Venti stares at him for a moment, something unreadable behind those luminous teal eyes. They’ve always reminded Zhongli of the clearest jade, purer than any that mortal hands could even touch. “What are you apologising for, Zhongli?” 

For upsetting you, he wants to say. For ever making you feel anything aside from pure joy. For ignoring you in a futile quest to ignore my love for you.  

But he has no right to say such heartfelt things, nor cage the other with his unwanted emotions. That answer will not suffice. 

“For making you feel as though you had to take on the responsibility of my nation,” Zhongli says instead. “For interfering in your freedom with a contract. I… I had not realised you took it so seriously, or else I never would have said those words in the first place.” 

He would have never dared to demand such things of Venti. Not then, and certainly not now. 

Venti’s face pinches, and he looks away from Zhongli, casting his gaze out over the windswept sea. “Do you think me irresponsible, Zhongli, or do you only think me incapable?” 

“What?” 

“That contract is what you’re apologising for. Not for faking your death, not for making me think that I was the last one standing, but for trying to make me be responsible. You come all the way to Mondstadt, hunt me down in my favourite bar, only to tell me that you’re sorry for ever letting me promise to take care of your country if you were to fall? Do you regret promising to look after Mondstadt, too? Or have you ruled that vow null and void, since Rex Lapis is now meant to be dead?” 

The winds begin to swirl around them as Venti’s voice raises in volume, the growing storm reflecting the turmoil of his emotions. Zhongli hadn’t meant it like that, but how was he meant to convince Venti of that fact? How can he calm his beloved down, when every word he says seems to be wrong? 

Venti rises from the ground to stand over him, and when the silence stretches on too long, he lets out a scoff. “I suppose you simply don’t trust me anymore, if you ever even did in the first place. Two and a half thousand years, and you couldn’t bother to give me the chance to keep your secret. I would’ve, you know – not a soul would have heard it from me. But… you took that chance away by choosing not to trust me.”  

He turns away from the edge of the cliff and begins to walk away, and Zhongli is seized with panic. He reaches out, and manages to grab Venti’s wrist just before he moves out of reach. “Venti– please. It isn’t…” 

“Isn’t what?” Venti whispers. He’s not meeting Zhongli’s eyes. 

“I do trust you. It isn’t about… whether I do, or don’t. I wasn’t thinking about that. I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve already said that last bit. And… you’ve made it quite clear that any trust you may have had in me is long gone.” 

Zhongli needs to fix this. How can he possibly fix this? How can he prove to Venti that he does trust him, does care about him, does love him? But then, isn’t loving him what got Zhongli into this situation in the first place? 

Fine, then. Zhongli knows what he needs to do. 

“I should have told you, and I cannot apologise enough for not doing so,” Zhongli murmurs. His hand is still loosely wrapped around Venti’s wrist – enough that he hasn’t yet let go, but Venti could still pull away if needed. “If I were to tell you a secret now, would that prove to you that I do trust you? I know you will keep it if I ask.” 

Venti hesitates, but finally, the winds begin to die down enough for him to inch closer to Zhongli. “Tell me. Please.” 

“I did not tell you,” Zhongli begins, rubbing his thumb over Venti’s wrist, “because I thought that if I pushed you out of my mind, then what I felt for you would diminish into something manageable. I didn’t even know if you were awake or not, and by the time I did, the corpse had already fallen.” 

Zhongli keeps his voice low, comforting, but he still feels Venti tense up as though he’s shouted, and he knows exactly why. “Morax… what did you mean by that?” 

There’s no need to ask which part Venti is referring to. “I love you, Barbatos. I know it isn’t returned, and I know you could never stay with me the way that I want you to, and that is why I have never asked. I knew from the beginning that if I asked you to stay by my side forever, you would try your very best to do so no matter what cost there would be to yourself, and I cannot bear the thought of being the one to cause you misery. Although… it seems, in the end, I’ve done that anyways.” 

Zhongli lets his gaze lift back up again from where it’s been resting on the ground, and promptly blanches as he sees the tears running down Venti’s face. He releases the other’s wrist in an instant, drawing back, ready to apologise again or offer to leave and never return, anything that would stem those awful, awful tears– 

And then in one smooth movement, Venti throws himself at Zhongli’s chest, wrapping his arms around him to sob into his shirt. 

For a moment, Zhongli holds completely still, terrified that a single movement will send Venti running away from him again. When it becomes clear that Venti has no intentions of going anywhere anytime soon, he carefully, ever so carefully brings his arms down to rest around his beloved’s small form – loosely at first, then gradually growing tighter, though all the while, he can’t help but be terrified that he’s going to squeeze too hard and Venti will just break. 

He’s always been so light, so delicate, even if he can be one of the most destructive forces of nature in Teyvat when the situation calls for it. A glass cannon is what Murata had called him, and Zhongli is inclined to agree. He refuses to let that glass crack, no matter what. 

After an indeterminate period of time, filled entirely with Venti sobbing into Zhongli’s chest as they do their almighty best to press close enough to fuse into one being, Venti finally pulls away from his torso with a sniffle, and Zhongli forces down the pang of hurt that comes with the loss. 

“Did you mean it?” Venti whispers. His teal eyes are rimmed with pink. “Please tell me you meant it. Please.” 

“Which part?” Zhongli asks, bringing a hand up to brush his bangs out of his face and stroke along his jaw as the other hand stays on his waist, drawing him in closer. “I said that I loved you, and I meant it. I said that I wanted you to stay with me forever and that the last thing I've ever wanted was to cause you distress, and I meant that, too.” 

Venti takes a shuddering breath. “I love you, Zhongli. I would stay with you forever, if that was what you wanted.” 

“I could never ask that of you–” 

“But don’t you want to?” 

Zhongli hesitates. 

“Then, if not forever, how about this,” Venti offers. “If you promise to never turn me away, I promise to always come back to you. Okay?” 

“That sounds an awful lot like a contract,” Zhongli points out, laughing wetly. When had he started crying? 

“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to make contracts? Don’t you like mine?” 

“Yes. Yes, I really do. For as long as you wish it, you will always have a place in my home and my heart, Barbatos.” 

“For eternity, then.” 

“For even longer.”