Chapter Text
There is a war coming. The Traveller arrives in Mondstadt breathless, the scent of death already following in their wake. They barge into Jean’s office, windswept, and advise her to utilise all of Mondstadt’s manpower in a single sentence before being gone in a blink again.
What breaks upon them are the nightmares kept beneath their beds, horrors not seen even in a child’s imagination. Monsters spring from the ground like withered, corrupted flowers, flooding the once fertile land with its tormented screeches and poisoned claws. The earth breaks apart; the sky rains down as fire. Dragonspine crumbles apart to reveal a dragon larger than the city itself, rotten bones and frozen heart and black, black blood – and right as it descends upon Mondstadt, the fighting Knights and cowering civilians all stiffened in shock, and its giant maw opens to pull them all into the depths of the eternal abyss-
-the wind howls and suddenly, as it was two thousand years ago, the city is embraced in a storm.
The dragon howls as it is not able to penetrate the shield. The people of Mondstadt cheer, the last of its defenders hurrying back through the gates as the monsters get blown back by the gusts.
The injured are treated; the dead are mourned; weapons are sharpened. All around them, the winds are loving and singing, and the Church begins chanting prayers to the hidden sky.
Only to be met with a flurry of snow right in their faces.
Sister Barbara sinks to her knees, shivering and yet weeping. “Oh, our Lord hath come!" she cries. “Our Lord hath come to deliver us!”
Sister Rosaria next to her sticks out her tongue to catch a stray snowflake on her tongue. “It’s June," she complains.
Just a few minutes later, thus said delivering god gets swept through Jean’s window with a crash and a groan. She halts in the middle of tugging on her sword and boots to support the forces outside. She glances at him, then at the snowstorm outside, then at the papers scattered across the room, and then back at him.
It is easy to forget who Venti truly is, sometimes. Even in Jean’s mind, the entity she dedicates her daily prayers to and the drunken bard are not the same thing. Therefore it comes even more as a shock to see him in a flurry of glowing, drifting feathers, eyes unnaturally bright and luminescent and deep as a thousand skies as he looks up at her. His braids are undone. His hair might as well be completely dipped in teal, flickering like hope at the dawn of winter.
And his clothes – well, how can she describe this… They, ah… Wow, it feels almost disrespectful, but…
“Aren’t you cold?" Jean asks dumbfounded.
Venti rights himself, the last of feathers disappearing into thin air. His chest and leg are covered in tattoos pulsing with gentle light, edged into his skin like murals. His form flickers for a heartbeat – almost as if the wind howling through the window threatened to tear him away again – and as he speaks, for the split of a second it is a thousand voices whistling, singing, chanting, before it slips back into something remotely human that decidedly does not send shivers down her back.
“Nope," he says cheerfully. “I’ve never been warmer, actually!” He laughs, bells on Sunday mornings. “I forgot how it feels to have this much power. Don’t tell Master Diluc, but this might be even better than wine.”
Jean peers past him at the blizzard engulfing the city, drowning out even the angered roars of the monsters outside. “…What’s with the snow?”
“Yeah. About that…”
Excerpt from The Steambird, June 26th xx, “Emergency notice: War Across Teyvat”:
On the 24th of June, the citizens of all nations were awoken by an attack lead by the Abyss as it has not been seen in over five hundred years. Despite the immediate reaction of Iudex of Fontaine, Neuvilette, many deaths have been accounted for, and even more injured. All able-bodied citizens of Fontaine are hereby strongly encouraged to pick up their weapons and face this threat in unity. Speak to your nearest Guard for more information. Vive la Fontaine!
Excerpt from The Steambird, June 28th xx, “Emergency notice: Attack Spread to Court of Fontaine”:
Despite the courageous efforts of all soldiers and volunteers, the Abyss’ attack has almost reached the Gates of the Court of Fontaine. Citizens are warned to stay inside and lock their houses. Do not engage with suspicious substances, as they are highly poisonous upon touch. For necessities such as water, food and medicine, please contact your local district’s mayor. Do not lose face, brethren! The war is not yet lost.
Excerpt from The Steambird, June 29th xx, “Emergency notice: Meeting of Archons - New Hope?”:
Right this morning the Iudex of Fontaine, Neuvilette, was spotted leaving the city. Unfortunately, none of our reporters were able to catch him due to him being suspended in the air, but not long after, the former Hydro Archon, respectable Furina de Fontaine, was found outside as well, watching the sky. Upon questioning she revealed that something has happened that all of Teyvat has anticipated for centuries: A meeting of the Seven Archons is held at this very moment, discussing the future of every country! Stay tuned for further updates – The Steambird is working hard and working just to bring you the daily truth!
Excerpt from The Steambird, July 1st xx, “Emergency notice: Immediate Evacuation”:
With the Abyss Order at the very gates of the Court of Fontaine, the newly returned Iudex of Fontaine, Neuvilette, has published a statement reading “all citizens of Fontaine are to prepare for an immediate evacuation to Liyue Harbour via airship. All possessions beside identification are to be abandoned.” Furthermore, he has promised to empower the airships to carry a larger quantity of people and arrive at its destination faster. In his words: “No one shall get left behind. The Six Archons of Teyvat and myself have decided on Liyue Harbour as a centre for all citizens of Teyvat. It is easier to defend a single nation with the might of six gods and myself than to stay separated.” Despite this writing history, he looked pained at the statement – is there a conflict between the Archons us mortals do not know about? Why does Iudex of Fontaine, Neuvilette, distance himself from them through his wording? For more such questions and further information on our beloved Iudex’s private life, follow the Steambird! Stay safe!
Despite the warning to take not more than what’s necessary, Timaeus has made the unfortunate decision of stuffing half his lab notes into the single bag he owns. It is a heavy weight, constantly tearing at his shoulder. The fact that the cold had started to seep into his bones a few minutes in and has now, twelve hours after the begin of their journey, well moved into his very core, not even paying rent, does not make it any better.
Keep walking, the people around him say. Keep ignoring the howling winds embracing them, all the thousands of wandering people, an endless line in the fog, they say. Do not listen to the cries from beyond the storm – they may sound human, like children calling for their mothers, but they are not. Honestly, if Timaeus was not busy trying to not pass out from exhaustion, he would have been more creeped out.
He glances towards Master Albedo, who trudges beside him. He has not said a word in four hours. His gaze is distant, directed on the path in front of them. He has not brought a single bag – not even water, and yet he hasn’t asked anyone else for a flask, either. How is the guy standing? And worst of all, he hasn’t offered to help Timaeus with his bag even once.
He wants to huff. He’s carrying around all the notes for them both. It was the first thing upon his mind when hearing the word evacuation. In hindsight, it was quite stupid. Master Albedo probably knows it all by heart, anyway. Sucrose, too.
So, Timaeus really is hauling those notes all the way to Liyue Harbour for himself. And given that there is a war, and Ying’er will be waiting for him, it is unlikely he will even find the time to look into them. For a brief moment, he considers just dropping them on the side of the road – but he simply cannot abandon his work, as meager as it is in the eyes of an alchemist as great as his Master.
Speaking of his Master: There are heavy bags beneath Albedo’s eyes. He is unnaturally pale. Timaeus blinks. Does he even breathe?
“So," Timaeus says, trying desperately to disrupt that awful silence of a thousand footsteps and empty gazes around him, a population marching into the fog, “do you think we’re lost?”
Albedo does not answer.
“I mean," Timaeus stammers, “I trust the Acting Grandmaster, I really do! And I of course am more than delighted to finally have Lord Barbatos among us again, even if he has not shown himself yet… Speaking of that, isn’t it fascinating how this storm is created to keep up with us walking people? I wonder how it looks from the outside… Maybe like a giant, winding snake of, hah, wind?”
Albedo blinks at him, slowly. There is a hint of purple to his eyes. Barbatos, he really has not slept in days, has he?
“And furthermore – the fact that the Abyss attacked to swiftly is downright scary, is it not? All that strange substance…” Timaeus shivers at the memory of stepping around some strange, purple goo on the ground, pulsing and groaning and growing with life. He’d heard a thousand whispers in there. He does not want to hear it again. “Is that the corruption Sucrose talked about?”
Albedo blinks again. His voice is hoarse as he opens his mouth, teeth flashing. “Timaeus.”
“Well, at least I finally get to see Liyue," Timaeus rambles on and laughs, half hysteric, “I would’ve liked for Ying’er to see me differently, though… I’m sure to be covered in nothing but sweat and grime by the time we arrive – if we arrive at all! Do you think we’ll take another break soon? It would be awful to lose some people in this chaos – although I’m sure Lord Barbatos would look over us and make sure nothing happens.”
“Timaeus.”
“Speaking of Lord Barbatos, the Acting Grandmaster has been awfully secretive, hasn’t she? Not that I doubt her abilities! It’s just, all that snow started right when the storm barrier appeared around Mondstadt. The history books state that Lord Barbatos regulated the weather in Mondstadt back when it was an icy wasteland into a climate people could thrive in… Maybe his sudden appearance, even without showing his face, has taken back that spell somehow. Perhaps because of the balance of energy! That storm barrier is a grand one, it even stopped the attack from that vicious dragon… You saw that, right? Larger than the city itself! Oh, how I would love to-“
”Timaeus. Shut up.”
“…Yes, Master.”
Not ever in history has Liyue Harbour been this crowded. People of all cultures, of all languages and appearances, mingle together to find places to stay. Tents are built, empty warehouses are transformed into makeshift evacuation centres. The wind protecting the people of Mondstadt joins the thunderstorm of Inazuma and the mountains of Liyue, descending as an impenetrable shield around the entirety of Liyue Harbour and its surrounding land. What once was farmland is turned into camps housing hundreds of people each. It is an impressive sight, if not a scary one.
The entire population of Teyvat, gathered in one spot.
Xiangling works all day boiling soup and cutting vegetables. The food is always gone faster than she can blink. People greet her in all different tongues, and some in Common or very accentuated Liyuen. She barely has the moment to offer a smile.
By the time her shift rounds up to twelve hours, her father releases her with a kiss on the forehead. “Rest," he says, her legs wobbling, “Tomorrow will be even longer.”
Yet, as she tries to fight through the crowds to make it home, someone grabs her wrist. She looks up to find Xinqui pulling her along, barely looking at her. “The Archons!" he calls, several heads turning around to listen, “They are meeting!”
Ignoring the excited shouts following them, they wind through alley upon alley, and suddenly Xiangling is glad to know the city like the back of her hand. Still, it takes an awful amount of time to make it even towards the stairs of Yujing Terrace. Never in her life has Xiangling seen so many people before – all tongues chattering, bodies pressing against hers. The sky above them darkens with the sunset, still engulfed in storm.
Somewhere in the crowd, another hand finds her. Xiangling glances at Hu Tao and Chongyun. Hu Tao mouths something, but it is much too loud. They shamelessly fight their way to the very front. By the end of it, even Xiangling is panting with exhaustion.
Where usually the altars for the departed Rex Lapis would be, incense lit, there are now six chairs – nothing like the wooden stools Xiangling takes her lunch breaks on, sweating in the kitchen, no, no. They are mighty, decorated things, intricate patterns carved into the backs. Only one of them must cost more than her father’s entire business.
Still, they are empty. Xiangling is just about to turn to Hu Tao, ready to shout into her ear to make herself heard, when suddenly, there is some commotion. The crowd shifts and surges. Xiangling keeps a hardened grip on her friends’ hands, probably crushing Xingqui’s fingers in the process. Neither of them care enough to notice.
Somewhere the crowd parts, excitement and awe rippling through the people like a wave. The archons step onto the platform one by one, and Xiangling forgets every depiction she has ever seen of godly beings, for they all pale in contrast. They are glowing, moving with a grace beyond humanity’s. In the span of a heartbeat, she gets overwhelmed with such terror and wonder, she cannot breathe.
She is not the only one. The crowd completely stills. The archons make no sound as they move. Xiangling can hear her own frantic heartbeat, eyes wide, until suddenly-
“I knew it!" whisper-shouts Hu Tao and tugs at Xiangling’s and Chongyun’s hands, jumping up and down. “I fucking knew it! He’s so bad at hiding it!”
And indeed; Xiangling would not believe it if she didn’t see so herself – her father will definitely not – but there is Mister Zhongli, eyes a steady golden flow, coat rippling like the warm scales of a dragon, taking in the crowd. His gaze lands on her, for just a split second. Xiangling feels as if a thousand centuries washed over her; the feeling of stone being weathered away by the ancient forces of the sea, salt and age.
She shivers. “I thought he was dead.”
Hu Tao practically vibrates. “Well, apparently not!”
Beside Mister Zhongli – no, Rex Lapis, he is Rex Lapis, Xiangling has served Rex Lapis soup and gossiped with him about the local vendors almost every day, holy shit - the other archons stand just as still. The Raiden Shogun is stiff, electricity crackling through her hair, tingling on Xiangling’s skin, eyes hardened. Sumeru’s Goddess – what is her name again? Xiangling almost feels as if something had slipped her mind – is her very opposite, bouncing on her heels, throwing smile after smile towards the audience. If it was not for the vines literally shifting over her limbs like snakes, flowers blooming, Xiangling could’ve mistaken her for just another child on first glance.
There’s the Chief Iudex of Fontaine, yes, she’s read about him before – didn’t Fontaine lose its archon recently? He must be still grieving, judging by his grim expression, flitting from one god to the other – and the fiery might of Natlan’s archon, proud and confident, and lastly Snezhnaya’s on the opposite end of her, swirling and cold.
Xiangling blinks. She did see a lot of Mondstadters around. Surely they couldn’t have made the journey without their god – but if not, then where is he?
The archons seem to ask themselves the same thing, because in that moment, the Raiden Shogun speaks up. Her voice sends static down the crowd’s backs. Ozone lies heavy in the air, and as she speaks, it is followed by the roar of thunder somewhere in the sky.
“Where is Barbatos?" she asks.
The Tsaritsa raises an eyebrow. No one moves a muscle. “Well," she says coolly, “he sure has a habit of showing up late. Or not at all.”
The Pyro Archon snorts. It sends a jolt through Xiangling, her vision burning. She can feel Hu Tao next to her sense the same and grips her hand harder. “I wouldn’t come either, if I was in such bad company.”
“This is not a matter of the quality of company," Zhongli – Rex Lapis, oh archons – says, voice as old and calm as the belly of a mountain, eternally slumbering. “It is a matter of war.”
In that moment, a member of the Qixing stumbles forward, trembling and pale. Xiangling vaguely remembers her name as Keqing – she comes by for food sometimes, especially when entertaining foreign guests. Last Xiangling heard, she was a great skeptic, not afraid to say so in the faces of hardened believers. There is not much trace of that now, although it is very brave for her to come forward. Xiangling feels her hands shake just at the thought of it.
“Rex Lapis," Keqing says, and her voice rings out clear and much less imposing than those of the gods, “Our Lord. In the name of the Qixing, we welcome your return with great delight. I…” She takes a deep breath, and a ripple of murmuring rushes through the crowd upon her mention of the Lord. “I apologise for the lack of enough chairs. We were all under the assumption your recent unfortunate passing had been permanent.”
Rex Lapis blinks, golden eyes eerie in the dark. Are those scales on his neck? “You are not mistaken. It was supposed to be permanent, for the dawn of humanity’s age has long since broken. However," he sighs a very human sigh, like Xiangling’s father dreading overtime, “the recent turn of events has this deemed temporarily untrue.”
The Raiden Shogun shifts. “It is of no matter," she says. “Since Barbatos is not here, the number of chairs are sufficient. We may as well see it as a sign and start this meeting without him.”
Just as she finishes speaking, a flash of feathers appears in the air. Xiangling holds her breath as the world is engulfed in green for just a moment, the sound of air parting, anemo humming – and as she blinks, there is a new figure among the archons, divine spear in hand, eyes piercing and golden and aglow. A mask is hung by his hip, tattoos on his arms, swirling like sentient murals. Truly ethereal!
Xiangling frowns. Isn’t that-
In that moment, a Mondstadter right next to her gasps and sinks to his knees. “Lord Barbatos!" he calls, voice shaken. Around him, countless others follow suit, all shouting over each other in both Common and Mondstadtian.
Xingqui leans over to Xiangling. “That’s the first time they’ve seen their archon in five hundred years," he whispers. Awe floods through Xiangling. Still, something nags at her. Doesn’t she know-
The new figure – Lord Barbatos, it seems – blinks, apparently just as startled. Right then, four men hurry onto the Terrace, carrying another giant chair and placing it right next to the other ones. The gods do not move. If Xiangling had to judge their expressions the would almost call them – bewildered?
“Rex Lapis," Barbatos says, voice rough, and - bows. The crowd murmurs. “I have come to-“
Rex Lapis sighs the same tired sigh as earlier and lifts a gloved hand. “Just sit down," he says simply. "Let's begin."
The archons, steps ricocheting through the ground, seat themselves. Barbatos seems hesitant to do so, taking the last spot with reluctance. Rex Lapis, obviously the leader of the meeting, raises his voice again.
“The age of mankind has come to a pause as a threat has occurred much greater than humanity and even gods themselves. I know we have already met," he regards the other archons one by one, “and I ask you to retain a much more civil nature this time. There will be time for judgement," he glances at the Iudex, who only returns his glare with cold eyes, huh, “and private grudges," this time it’s the Tsaritsa under his cor-lapis-gaze, “once this force has been eliminated.”
“It cannot be eliminated," the Raiden Shogun argues. “The Abyss has tainted the Ley Lines for much too long. It can only be subdued – but as long as human memory persists, so will the Abyss.”
“Then-," Rex Lapis starts, but gets interrupted by a sudden voice from the audience, echoing through the air.
“Wow, five minutes in and you’re already spilling national secrets, Ei?”
Countless heads turn into the direction of the voice. A man, a boy, almost, certainly Xiangling’s age, steps onto the terrace. He must be Mondstadtian judging by his garments, but he speaks without an accent. A linguistic scholar then, perhaps? It does not matter – Xiangling is baffled at this brave – or perhaps idiotic – soul daring to interrupt an archon.
Rex Lapis only stares.
“Venti!" someone calls out from the audience, enraged. “You insolent bard! What is the meaning of this?!”
Venti takes a long look around the terrace, gaze finally landing on the Anemo Archon. He chuckles. “Ah, I see how it is! Well then, don’t mind me.”
And he-
And he-
Oh.
Oh wow.
He steps right forward and settles on the armrest of Rex Lapis’ chair. His feet dangle by the archon’s knees.
Xingqui lets go of Xiangling’s hand to catch the Mondstadtian guy from earlier, who has fainted.
The crowd begins murmuring, then shifting, then eventually some shouts of protest ring out. The Tsaritsa looks as if the thought of sending humanity into an eternal snowstorm doesn’t actually sound like such a bad idea. The Anemo Archon is still frowning. The Dendro Archon covers her face, giggling. Rex Lapis – does not move at all?
No! In fact, he only brings up a hand to his forehead, as if wanting to get rid of a particularly bothersome headache.
Venti, the insolent bard, swings his legs like a child, leaning against the back of the chair as if he owned the place.
Rex Lapis clears his throat, some of the reverb suddenly gone from his voice. “Regardless," he says, ignoring the shouts from the crowd, “now that we are complete, we must address this matter with utmost urgency. I cannot stress enough how-“
In that moment, the Dendro Archon almost keels over in her chair, heaps of laughter escaping her tiny form. Flowers tremble by her feet. As if affected by it, the Pyro Archon begins chuckling, too. Their laughter rings across the Terrace like an echoing harmony, travelling to the storm-clad sky and back.
The crowd is entirely silent. The Mondstadtian guy is not the only one who’s passed out. The other archons watch on, face still as stone. Venti – human, mortal, brave-stupid, insolent bard Venti – grins. Outside of Liyue Harbour, the war that may end all of humanity rages on.
Xiangling suddenly feels tired. So much for getting some sleep tonight – her father will never believe her.
“Haven’t you heard?" says Zari from Sumeru, excitedly twirling the bottle of perfume she just inspected in her hand. “A bard from Mondstadt crashed the Archons’ meeting and sat on Rex Lapis’ chair!”
“Not only that," says Naomi from Inazuma. “I heard he sat on his lap!”
“My friend stood in the first row," Elaine from Fontaine says. “She said he even touched the Lord’s hair and all.”
“Blasphemy!" Naomi cries.
“Or worship," Zari hums. “Aren’t Mondstadters very formal and serious about their belief? Maybe he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t help getting closer.”
“Why didn’t he go for his own god, then?" Naomi ponders. “Lord Barbatos was right there. For the first time in centuries, too!”
Elaine giggles. “Who knows! Maybe there’s more going on than we think.”
The others stare at her. She shrugs, a sly smile on her lips. “They seemed quite familiar with each other. Rex Lapis didn’t even smite him on the spot!”
“What are you suggesting?" Zari asks, eyes bright.
“It wouldn’t have been the first time a god got into a relationship with a mortal, I’m sure.”
Naomi gasps. “You think that bard is the Lord’s lover?!”
Elaine leans forward, voice hushed. “No. That’s way beneath the Lord’s status," she says, “I think that bard is the Lord’s courtesan.”
“Ladies!" Ying’er coons in that moment, appearing out of nowhere. Zari almost drops the perfume. “Even a courtesan must smell nice, especially in the company of a god. And besides, who knows how the war will end! Would you not want to at least bear the scent of flowers as the monsters devour your body?”
Ah, right.