Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The golden tip of a metronome traced slivers of gold in the air. Back and forth, back and forth, leaving a thin trail of glitter to shine brightly against the dimly lit chamber. Its ticking matched that of the grand clock next to the doorway.

The scent of parchment, leather and oak drifted past the dancing candle on an elegant desk, standing in front of a large, stained glass window, bordered by a comfortable crimson chair. In the mornings, a depiction of a majestic mountain range fell upon the dusty carpet. At night, the colors faded into the black sky.

In front of the desk, in the middle of the room, stood a telescope, a huge one, with a gold-rimmed edge against the silver shaft and a large lens directed up to the sky. The ceiling was centered with a clear, glass dome, revealing the moon and the stars.

In front of the telescope stood two figures. A raven-haired girl with a midnight blue hat, a red ribbon around the base. She stood there in her equally midnight robes, a thin golden ceinture around her waist, peering through the shaft with one eye, the other pressed closed. Next to her stood a boy with golden hair to his shoulders, a royal blue vest and rolled up white sleeves, his grand coat forgotten, draped along the back of the desk chair. In his hands he held a clipboard and a plumed quill, tracing a precise line from one point to the next.

“... Then beneath that, about thirty degrees to the left, an inch or so down, another one. A big one, twice as big as the one above it,” the girl muttered, pulling her eye away from the lens and straightening up, walking over to look at the paper.

The ink traced in an angular semi-circle, curving up and to the side at the top, sort of like a chipped elixir vial, or an unfinished citar.

She hummed in satisfaction, her arms resting on her hips proudly.

“Yes, that should do. Check for yourself if you so desire.”

The boy nodded, laying the drawing and pen down on the desk and leaning down to look at the stars himself.

“It’s quite beautiful. Simple and clean, well pronounced…” he muttered, his hand touching up the instrument in search of a small knob. Once his fingers found purchase, he twisted it ever so slightly, adjusting the scale of the night sky.

“I was thinking of a name starting with Via… Viatrix… Viatra… Viator, something along those lines. I can’t decide,” the girl said, picking up the clipboard and tracing her fingers along the ink, careful not to smudge it.

The boy pulled back and hummed, shuffling around the room, picking up a book here and there. He carried them in his arms until he found their rightful place amidst the rows upon rows of books, slotting them back slowly, one by one.

“We’re in no hurry to decide. You can think it over for a while,” he said.

“Yes, I suppose… I like having a clear concept of it though. Not being able to place it by name makes it much more difficult to actually read it.”

The boy laughed softly, eyes trained on the spines and titles before him.

“I will never understand the science behind that anyway. How on earth do you read stars?”

The girl shook her head, unbeknownst to him, and started cleaning up the space herself, shifting drawings and pages of notes into a neat pile on the desk.

“You don’t. You do it in the heavens.”

“I’ve never seen you transcend in such a way.”

“Not physically,” she said, slightly annoyed about having to explain herself again. She knew he amused himself with teasing her practices. He just didn’t understand. “It’s about transcendence of the mind.”

“Yes, so you’ve said. I still don’t understand that though.”

“Yes, I can tell. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not expected of you anyway.”

The boy turned to her, smiling softly, traversing the space until he was next to her, their shoulders touching as he tidied up a crooked bookmark and flipped a book shut.

“I’m genuinely curious though. Can’t you show me sometime?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I need solitude. Not a single noise or distraction. It’s precarious business. One little shift in environment and I crash back down. Figuratively."

“Then I’ll be quiet.”

The girl turned to the boy, an eyebrow quirked.

“Do you really want to see that badly?”

The boy nodded, completely serious.

“Yes. Even if I don’t practice the craft, it’s better to familiarize myself with all fields of research, don’t you think? For possible future reference.”

The girl sighed, moving away from the desk.

“You just want to see me fail, don’t you? You don’t believe it’s possible at all.”

She strolled over to the set of sofas circling the telescope, grabbing the tasseled pillows and tossing them onto the carpet.

“On the contrary. I would just like to see you do it so I can see it with my own two eyes.”

The girl let out another sigh as she lowered herself down onto the ground, arranging her skirt around her, folding her legs.

“You do know your skepticism is completely unfounded, don’t you? There’s plenty of writing to reference if you want to dive into astrology. All with empirical evidence to back it up.”

“Yes, and that evidence was experienced by individuals in an isolated setting, with no witnesses. I simply want to… be around to confirm this empirical evidence.” the boy said, a smug smile creeping up on his features.

“Albedo,” the girl said, leveling a playful glare at him.

“Mona,” the boy challenged back, folding his arms.

“You know perfectly well that’s not how it works. Now, snuff out the candles, will you?” Mona said, settling her hands on top of her knees, closing her eyes in concentration.

Albedo moved to the first candle, blowing it out with a short huff of breath before moving on to the next.

“So you’ll show me?” he asked in between huffs, moving all around the room with quiet footsteps.

“Yes, if you promise to remain quiet.”

Trails of smoke danced up from the orange glowing wicks, filling the space with the smell of pyrolysis, sharp and earthy at once. Albedo grabbed a pillow of his own, settling down on the floor in front of Mona, watching her expectantly.

Mona sat completely still for a while, eyes closed, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration, fingers splayed out with her palms up into the air, as if holding the air with a gentle grip. Albedo watched her patiently, studying her posture, observing the way the moonlight reflected on the golden trinkets clipped to her dress, clasped to the ends of her hair.

He’d promised to be silent, but… nothing was happening. Then again, he didn’t exactly know how long it was supposed to take before a connection was formed, or however else the stars would speak to her.

His curiosity leaped up in his chest as Mona opened her mouth to say something-

“Is there any way you can get that clock out of here?” she asked, still not moving an inch, “It’s disrupting my concentration.”

Albedo glanced over at the clock, a tall grandfather model which was sure to weigh at least two hundred pounds. He looked back at Mona, who had one eye cracked open, watching him in anticipation.

“That’s not going to be easy,” Albedo said, “I may not be fragile of stature myself but I doubt even Cavalry Captain Kaeya could lift it.”

“Hmm… Let’s go somewhere else then,” Mona said, getting to her feet, using the armrest of the sofa to hoist herself upright.

“Like where?” Albedo asked, following her lead, already reaching for his coat, “You know I’m not supposed to leave the castle at night.”

“Oh, I know…” she said, tapping her chin in thought for a moment, eyes trained at the floor, “hmm… Would you be opposed to sneaking out?” she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his surprised gaze.

“Sneaking… Mona, I never estimated you to have so little regard for the rules.”

Mona smiled at him slyly before making her way to the heavy wooden door, snatching her purple cloak from the hook it hung from, next to golden hinges.

“I wouldn’t say I disregard the rules, exactly… I’d like to call it a healthy sense of adventure.”

“You’re just set on proving me wrong, aren’t you?” Albedo said, tugging an arm through the sleeve of his coat while he spoke.

“Well, I can’t help it if you make it personal. So, are you coming or not?” she asked, opening the door, which creaked with the movement, and swinging her hand towards the stairway it revealed.

Albedo shook his head softly, pausing for a moment before shrugging his other arm through the sleeve and jogging up to join her.

“Of course I am.”

The cold of winter nipped at the duo’s noses and cheeks as they trudged up the hill, dusting them with rosiness and snowflakes. Through the dark blue of the night swirled a gentle streak of violet, stars scattered across every single inch of the sky, some brighter than others. The moon hung low, a thin crescent, shining vibrantly.

They had refrained from actually leaving the castle gates upon Albedo’s insistence and had instead hidden themselves in the shadows of the garden hedges until they reached the edge of the neatly trimmed and manicured display of plants. The right side of the gardens sloped up in a hill, which Albedo had nicknamed Starsnatch hill, derived from the infamous cliffs that bordered the land of Mond. He’d never seen them in person, but he imagined that people would come there to watch the stars. He had, when he was just a boy and was allowed out past sundown.

For some reason, his mother had retracted that privilege when he turned thirteen. He hadn’t been outside to watch the stars since. His heart pounded in his chest as they walked and he glanced over his shoulder back at the brightly lit windows of the palace, scanning them for any figure passing by or catching a glimpse of them. They hadn’t taken a lantern, so they would blend in with the night to some extent, but Albedo couldn’t help but feel nervous.

It’s not like he always stuck to the rules imposed upon him that neatly, but this felt different. His alchemy equipment he could hide and his late night tutoring sessions with Mona he could disguise as companions catching up, but being so blatantly out in the open, leaving footprints in the snow no less… If he got caught, he was done for.

Still, he trudged on. Albedo had never been one to curb his own curiosity, and some part deeply within him was genuinely curious about the stars. He didn’t believe in any practical use for them. He didn’t believe they could contribute to any field of science, really, in a meaningful way. He didn’t even fully believe that whatever Mona reported back to him about their message would be the truth. And yet, he wanted to know. He just wanted to know what these stars had to say.

“Yes, this will do nicely,” Mona declared once they reached the top, posing her hands on her hips as she looked around the untouched layer of snow before her, “Nice and quiet, dark, perfect.”

Albedo remained silent as he watched her take a seat on the ground, making the snow crunch and shift beneath her. She resumed the same position she’d taken on with her first try. Albedo followed her lead, sitting right in front of her.

“Alright, now,” Mona began, closing her eyes and breathing out a deep breath, “even if what you’re about to see will be quite the amazing spectacle. I want not a single sound out of you, understand? Not. A. Peep.”

“Understood,” Albedo replied.

Mona nodded, then sat there in silence for a while longer. It wasn’t completely quiet, but it was as quiet as the night would allow. Crickets chirped in an endless array of tones, but it all blended together to create white noise. Albedo’s breath sounded softly, but the sound wouldn’t be able to carry all the way over to her, drifting into the sky like the condensation puffs of smoke against the cold air. The wolves of Wolvendom howled to the moon every so often but the sound was so faint, it might just as well be the howling of the breeze rushing past the snowy landscape.

Finally, after at least a full two minutes, something about the scene changed. Mona inhaled a deep breath suddenly, her head lifting up to the stars, her fingers slowly closing, as if grasping some invisible force. Blue light glowed from her fingertips and she lifted her hands, the light trailing upwards and leaving traces as it glowed brighter every second.

Albedo held his breath.

Mona twisted her hands mid-air, dancing around each other and trailing a circle into the open air in front of her, both of their faces glowing with the reflection.

Albedo gasped shortly, his mind doing a slight double take over the display and the sudden realization that came with it.

“Let me scry,” Mona huffed softly, a flash of light pulsing through the ring, filling it with delicate lines, weaving together dots and diamonds into a familiar shape. Like a chipped elixir vial, or an unfinished citar.

“Wait- Mona, stop,” Albedo exclaimed, twisting in his seat to peer back at the windows of the castle. Scanning for any figures, listening for any sounds.

The ring of light promptly burst into a cloud of sparkles, Mona’s hands dropping limply back onto her knees with a sigh of frustration.

“What did I tell you, Albedo? Absolute silence. What do you think you’re d-”

“Shh,” Albedo interrupted her, “please, let me listen,” he whispered, holding up his hand to signal her to wait. Mona let out an indignant huff at the gesture, folding her arms and tipping her chin up.

“You dare tell me to be quiet? When you just ruined my reading of the-”

“Mona, please.”

Mona fell quiet at the tone in his voice. She looked at him, frowned, stood up from her spot and dusted the snow off her dress.

She was considerate enough to let him listen, for any scraping of spears against cobblestones, armored footsteps on the dirt, creaking wooden doors being pushed open. Then, after a moment, she sighed and laid a hand on his bicep, grabbing him and hauling him to his feet.

“You’re being paranoid,” she stated, patting his shoulders to clear the snow away as well, pulling the collar of his coat straight while she was at it, “We won’t be found out from a simple little light out on a hilltop. But, if it’s got you so worried, let’s just forget about it, okay? It’s not that important anyway.”

Albedo tore his gaze from the castle to meet her eyes.

“My apologies. It’s just- My mother-”

“Can’t know you disobeyed her, yes, yes, I quite understand,” Mona said, sighing deeply. She dropped her voice and mumbled, “But really, the least you could do was let me finish. The light was up already, if they had been looking, it would have been too late anyway.”

Albedo frowned at her as she dropped her hands back down to her sides and began to stride back down the slope, her long cloak trailing behind her through the snow, “But, evidently, they weren’t looking. So you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She finished at regular volume.

Albedo started after her, jogging to catch up to her and fall in the same pace as her.

“Did you see anything?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

“Well, you didn’t really give me the chance to make it all that far, but yes, I suppose I did see… something.”

“What was it?”

“I… am not completely sure.”

Albedo stayed silent, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Getting a grip on the stars is a difficult enough feat on its own, let alone extracting meaningful imagery or descriptions from them. But… I did manage to catch one word before I was rudely interrupted,“ she shot him a pointed look before she continued, “Breathed into my ear just clear enough to make out,-

“- fallen.”

The ceiling of Albedo’s chambers held painted constellations, courtesy of himself. His walls were a dark shade of blue and most of the furniture was a rich mahogany. White curtains bordered the tall windows and trailed along his bed and an ornately patterned white rug covered most of the floorboards.

He’d started the painting project out of boredom once.

Albedo seemed to have the unfortunate luck to be both a morning and a night person simultaneously, often up late at night and waking to the first rays of sunshine naturally in the morning. This, coupled with the fact that his curfew to remain in his tower started at nine, made for quite some free time on his hands that he had to fill somehow.

He’d started with his own personal constellation, related directly to his birthday, right above his bed with that of his mother beside it to the right. Mona’s stars were somewhere near the left upper corner of the ceiling, right above his wardrobe. He’d made a point to ask for many of his staff’s birthdays so he could add them to fill the rest of the space.

They might just as well be family, after all. They accompanied him for dinner, although as waiters and cooks. They’d taught him all the crafts and disciplines he knew; fencing, chemistry, history, Sumeran and Liyuan, transverse flute, piano and painting, just to name a few. They wished him a good morning as soon as he left his chambers and wished him a goodnight as he retreated back into them. And yet they did it all with a cordial distance, a professional stance in the advice they gave him and in the tasks they performed for him. No matter how grateful he was for them, they would never see him in quite the same way as he did them.

He looked up at them often as he lay in bed at night, tracing imaginary lines between the stars and quizzing himself on their titles as he waited for sleep to drag his eyelids down. That usually took a while.

This night too, he lay and stared, hair splayed about on one of his many golden rimmed pillows, his eyes wide as ever, shining with the sliver of moonlight that managed to fall through the gap in the curtains.

His nose felt cold still, somehow, even though he’d been inside for at least two hours now. His body had never been the best at generating heat. He made sure to thank Noelle often for the heating jugs she put underneath his covers after she made his bed. A thoughtful little thing she’d started doing after he mentioned how nice it was to come home to in the winter.

Albedo let out a deep sigh and shifted under the covers, positioning his feet to lay against the heating element, feeling the warmth seeping into his skin, up his legs.

There were not many things Albedo could wish for with the life he had, he was well aware of that. He’d been fed with a golden spoon ever since he was born and had any and all resources he could ever hope to need. His clothes were tailor made, the occasional trip into town well-accompanied by his own personal garde, his room was spacious and his education was bountiful. He was sure to have a bright future ahead of him as King when the time came.

But there was the one thing he yearned for, had always yearned for as long as he could remember.

It was to experience Mond at its finest. At night.

Every Friday night, the Kingdom came to life with light, winding through the cobblestone streets, reflecting off the rivers. Every Friday night, the people celebrated their freedom. Every Friday night, they celebrated their Queen.

Albedo had never once been in attendance.

Many of the staff went, often in pairs, leaving their posts for the night to dance and drink and laugh and come into work a little worse for wear the next morning, but with content smiles on their faces. It was the way the kingdom of Mond operated, how they connected, how they remembered. It was a memorial as much as it was tradition.

But for all his privilege, Albedo still had the selfish desire to observe the moon from in between those birchwood houses, surrounded by a bustling crowd, engulfed in light himself.

But all he could do was paint the moon and the stars onto his own personal nightsky and hope their light would warm him instead. No one but him and some of the staff would ever even see those stars.

A streak of light rushed past his window, flashing through the gap in the curtains, forcing him to blink a few times.

Ah… they must have started launching the fireworks then.

The soft rumble of an explosion came soon after. Followed by another and another. Albedo didn’t feel the desire to climb on top of his windowsill and watch the city as he’d often done as a child. He’d grown tired of observing from afar.

He’d gotten rather good at tuning out the sound, in fact.

He turned onto his side, facing away from the window, and closed his eyes.

In a kingdom filled with stars, he likened himself more so to the moon.

It was quite the lonely existence.

Chapter Text

The banquet awaiting Albedo as he took his seat at the far end of the long dinner table was more than any two people could ever consume by themselves. It was more than even the largest of families could ever need. It consisted of so many sparkling dishes, all prepared to perfection, that Albedo couldn’t help but lose his appetite at the sight of it all. Staff members stood diligently lined up along the wall, ready at their beck and call. Their uniforms consisted of unassuming silver-lined vests, standard brown trousers, black boots and the occasional white apron. A perfect match with the tableware, wooden doors and white curtains. A perfect disguise to blend in.

The three different kinds of poultry stared back at him, alongside four different kinds of meat, garnished with berries and sauces and Aster petals…

Albedo sighed as he pulled the plate of Roast Fowl towards himself, picking up the knife and meat fork resting next to the dish.

“How have you been, mother?” he asked, meeting his mother’s eyes all the way across the table. The Queen sat in her gold rimmed chair, waiting patiently for their headmaid to finish pouring her Dandelion wine into her gold rimmed glass.

“I’ve been quite busy lately, as you know,“ she started, shifting her piercing gaze from the glass to him, “but otherwise, I’ve been doing well. Why do you phrase your question as if we’re old acquaintances? We had breakfast together two days ago, did we not?”

The Queen unfolded her gold rimmed napkin to lay across the lap of her gold-rimmed dress, quirking an eyebrow at her son, it nearly disappearing behind salt and pepper bangs. The crown upon her head shone in the candle light, blue and white diamonds casting colorful spots onto her up-done hair.

“A person’s well-being can change a lot in two days,” Albedo mused, stabbing the knife into the piece of fowl and cutting cleanly through it until it hit a piece of bone. Upon the snag of the knife, one of the staff members immediately stepped forwards to take the utensils from his hands and cut around the bone for him. Albedo gave the blond boy a smile of gratitude and turned his attention to his mother again, “but if your state of mind is as well as it was two days ago, I trust the preparations have been going well?”

His mother nodded, taking a sip of her glass.

“They have been. The venue is nearly complete and we’ve gotten an affirmative reply from all invited guests safe for a few…” She trailed off for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass leisurely before taking another sip, “the only thing missing would be your attire. Tell me, when did you schedule that fitting session again? Because I could have sworn Master Gunnhildr filled in your schedule for tomorrow morning with a fencing session and the Scribe mentioned another tutoring session with you in the afternoon… Now, what time does that leave for what I asked you to do?”

Albedo had to suppress a small smile from appearing on his lips at his mother’s tone. The boy levered the piece of fowl from the platter onto Albedo’s plate, the meat slipping from in between the utensils just before he was able to put it down. A small drop of Valberry syrup splattered into Albedo’s blue waistcoat, but Albedo was quick to shift his arm to lay in front of it and smile at the servant as he made his way back to his spot next to the other staff. He shot a silent, appreciative smile to Albedo before schooling his features and becoming nothing more than a part of the room’s scenery again.

“My apologies. It must have slipped my mind during my previous sessions with them. I would never purposefully misplan an important part of the preparations,” he said, moving to take a bite of his fowl while locking eyes with his mother. His fork stilled midway to his mouth.

The Queen’s rigid stare bore into him, unamused and humorless as ever.

“I trust that you didn’t,” she said. Albedo lowered his fork again, giving up on eating for a second.

“I promise, mother. I would never,” he said, trying to sound as sincere as ever.

His mother merely hummed and started to cut into the tart on her plate.

“Just make sure you get it done before tomorrow night.”

“I will.”

“And have Noelle accompany you to the location.”

“Yes, mother.”

The head maid in question bowed her head in acknowledgement from where she stood.

“And Albedo?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to take this seriously,” the Queen’s tone was tight and stern, but still so unlike the voice she used with the staff. It was like a tired scolding reserved solely for him, “I want you to socialize during the event. I want you to make connections with the attendants. I don’t want to see you glued to your throne or to one of my student’s sides. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mother, I understand.”

The Queen took another sip of her wine, weighing his words for sincerity.

“Good,” she concluded after a moment, ringing in a period of silence the two of them used to eat their meals uninterrupted.

Albedo could never truly feel at ease with the silent eyes watching him from the sidelines, waiting for any moment to jump in and help him, but he tried to relax anyway. From the way his mother spoke, she merely seemed tired, and not suspicious. That was the most important thing of all. He should relax.

As long as she hadn’t caught sight nor wind of his trip to the garden the previous night, he was content. Whatever she would urge him to do during the ball could wait to be addressed until the event itself.

The silence of their meal was only cut through by the scraping of utensils and clanking of rings against glasses from both their sides, the staff’s breathing not even audible from their positions at the wall.

The dining room itself wasn’t one of the largest rooms in the palace, but still it had that pressing feeling like the rest of the establishment did. The open air around them as they sat was the same as that in the marble-tiled hallways, the pillar-held throneroom and the crimson-carpeted entrance hall. The only spaces Albedo didn’t feel like gravity was pulling at him were his own tower, the library, and the servant’s quarters. Not that he visited those quarters often. His occasional trips there were as rare as his nightly escapades, which only happened every once in a blue moon and in strict secrecy. Still, the times he had been there, he’d felt more at home than he ever had in his own palace. He’d long figured it was probably the people there that brought on that effect.

Inside of the palace, the only people around him were stiff and rigid; standing guard in heavy suits along doorways, disappearing into the ornate wallpaper as they silently lived to serve, or sitting on a golden throne to be revered and respected as an occupation.

Down in the servants quarters people actually smiled. People laughed loudly and spoke casually to each other, held less regard for the formalities of personal space and shared their thoughts and meals around like it was nothing. It was the closest Albedo had ever been to seeing what the people of his Kingdom actually lived like. He longed to see more.

But as it was, he had no choice but to sit and sip his own wine in silence.

The Queen waved over a servant without even sparing them a glance, too focussed on her next course to pay them any mind. The blond boy made his way to the table, grabbed the emerald crystal neck of the wine bottle and tilted it carefully to refill the Queen’s glass.

Albedo caught himself holding his breath as he watched the boy work from underneath his eyelashes.

The bottle was drawn back to be put back into place, but in its original place, a fork had slid off one of the dish plates. The glass clanked against the metal, stuttered in the boy’s grip, tilted to the side as it slipped through his fingers and spilled a large swig of the contents across the dishes on the table.

Three neat little specks of red wine adorned the front of the Queen’s sky blue dress.

She let out a frustrated huff as the boy scrambled to right the bottle and use the cleaning cloth hanging from his belt to dab away the wine from the tablecloth.

“Inept servant, look at what you’ve done-” she began, putting down her fork and grabbing her own napkin from her lap to press carefully against the stains.

Albedo stood up before she could continue, rounding the table and grabbing the boy by the forearm, leading him towards the door to the hallway.

“Albedo, sit down-”

“I’ll just have a word with him, mother,” he said, opening the door and leading the boy through before him, turning back to his mother, “just to make sure that… you can enjoy the rest of your meal without incident.”

“Just- sent him away after you’re finished, would you? And have him come to speak with me first thing tomorrow morning,” the Queen said, allowing Noelle to receive her napkin and replace it with a clean one on her lap, the maid moving on to salvage the remaining dishes.

“Of course,” Albedo said, nodding to his mother before closing the doors and turning to the boy.

The boy’s grass green eyes were wide and darted from Albedo to the door and back to Albedo.

“She wants to speak to me?” he forced out, the tremor in his voice badly controlled.

Albedo nodded, schooling his own grimace into a reassuring smile.

“Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll have a word with her later tonight.”

“This one- This one was really bad though. Wine is so much harder to get out of fabric than tea,” the boy muttered, fumbling with the wine-soaked cleaning cloth still in his grasp.

"Nonsense. All we need is some hydrogen peroxide and dish soap and that dress will be as blue as it ever was,” Albedo said, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder to draw his gaze upwards again, “no need to worry, Bennett.”

Bennett stayed silent for a moment, considering the words with a frown.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”

“But what if she’s had enough this time? What if she fires me?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Albedo said, giving Bennett’s shoulder a squeeze. Bennett’s frown morphed into a hesitant smile, his eyes trained at the ground.

“... Thank you, your Majesty.”

“Oh, please. I, myself, am far from majestic. You can call me by my name in private.”

Bennett huffed out a small laugh and shook his head, meeting Albedo’s eyes again.

“You know I couldn’t, your Highness. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Albedo sighed softly and shot him a smile back.

“Well, do as you feel comfortable, in any case. Now, off you go,” Albedo said, turning the boy around by his shoulders and giving him a gentle shove forwards, “and wish your fathers well from me, okay?”

“Will do! Thanks again!- Uhm, your Majesty,” Bennett corrected himself, stopping mid-walk to give Albedo a little bow, almost losing his balance in the process.

Albedo chuckled and shot him a wave as Bennett resumed his walk down the hallway.

Once he was out of sight, Albedo forced the smile off his face, turned to the door and hesitated just a moment before turning the handle.

Now, to save Bennett’s face. Again.

He let out a deep breath and opened the doors, stepping through.

“With all due respect, your Majesty, but this seems like a highly impractical way to spend a tutoring session, wouldn’t you say?” the emerald-clad man in front of Albedo had to audibly refrain from sighing while he voiced his thoughts, the words coming out with a strained sort of politeness. Albedo merely smiled silently at his tutor’s expression from his place upon the small podium he’d been directed to stand upon.

The library was hardly a fitting place for a fitting session, but the Scribe had insisted on at least keeping the same location as usual.

“I do apologize, Master Vultur, but I have to admit I made an error in lesson scheduling. It was either this, or trying to get the jacket fit to my shoulders while fencing, which I can imagine would have caused an even greater inconvenience,” Albedo said, lifting his left arm so Miss Ogura could reach the seam higher up at his side and slide a diamond-tipped pin through the midnight cotton velour.

The Scribe quirked an eyebrow and tipped his head in agreement, lifting the book in his hands again to hide nearly his entire face behind. Albedo could only imagine the eye-roll he was secretly given. There was a reason Albedo had placed his constellation in the very nook of his ceiling where spiders often liked to take residence and muddy up the clean lines with their dusty webs.

“I suppose you’re right. Do, however, not think you can slack off at today’s lesson just because you can’t write anything down. It’s time to let your memory work at its full capacity. Now, could you describe to me what I’m wearing?”

Albedo sighed and had to close his eyes for a second to sift through the many, many, mental cabinet files he’d slotted away in his mind. As interesting as he found the Sumeran language, it was rather difficult to conjure up the right answer when his eyes kept darting between Mondstadtian and Liyuan book-spines.

The library was nothing short of breathtaking with the amount of knowledge preserved in it, in nearly all languages of Teyvat. The pages upon pages seemed to breathe their very essence into the stuffy air, stealing the reader’s breath and concentration to be focussed solely on what the ink had to say. Everything from dictionaries and encyclopedias to biological research journals and chemical experiment records were divided neatly into subsections, some too high to reach by even the tallest of scholars, like Master Vultur. Wooden ladders with golden bolts rested against the shelves and flickering golden lanterns shone upon the oak tables scattered throughout the space.

“You are…” Albedo began, taking his time to find the words, “mountain-”

“Pahana, not pahaada,” the Scribe interrupted him.

“... wearing-” Albedo corrected himself, “… a green… cloak.”

Miss Ogura huffed out a breath, blowing a strand of blossom colored hair out of her face and squinting her eyes against the low light of the surroundings. The library indeed wasn’t the most forgiving place for a seamstress at work.

“Excellent. And what else?”

The strand sagged back down in front of her eyes immediately and she had to put down her measuring tape to fasten it with the flower-rimmed clip in her hair.

Albedo took the short break as an opportunity to hop off his platform and snatch up a pen from the table Master Vultur sat at, scribbling the difference between the words down onto a little note he then stuffed beneath the cover of his abandoned notebook at the edge of the table.

Miss Ogura exclaimed softly in frustrated surprise and snagged the fabric of his sleeve in her grip to pull him back.

“Your Majesty, what did I just say about using your memory?” Master Vultur asked, dropping his own notebook down low again to level an unamused look at Albedo.

“I’d rather not forget and make the same mistake twice,” Albedo countered, wincing slightly as the tiny prick of a mis-placed pin poked his back.

“May I assume you’ll retain the same attitude towards your scheduling practices in the future, then?”

“I will.”

“This is why you shouldn’t move, Heika…” Miss Ogura mumbled in Inazuman, picking the pin out of the fabric and re-inserting it in the correct way.

“Sumimasen,” Albedo said to her, then turned back to his teacher. “Your outfit includes… emerald?”

“Panna.”

“Emerald decorated… boots.”

“Very well. What about your shoes?”

The lesson went on describing Albedo’s own suit, the hairstyles of everyone present, and eventually even just the listing of the colors of the book-spines and patterns on the ornate rugs decorating the space. It was quite exhausting, if Albedo was honest. It always was. Languages were definitely fascinating to him, but chemistry and alchemy stuck in his head so much easier. The only thing keeping him from giving up at times was the knowledge that he had someone he strived to practice for.

The only ones who ever spoke to the newly appointed gardener were Master Vultur, himself, and one of Doctor Baizhu’s infirmary trainee’s. Albedo couldn’t even begin to imagine how lonely the massive palace must feel for someone unable to understand its residents.

Miss Ogura shrugged the fabric of Albedo’s jacket off his shoulders and took it with her to a desk cluttered with sewing supplies, leaving the prince in only his white undershirt and giving him the opportunity to roll his shoulders and loosen up his muscles.

“Does this mean you are finished, Ogura-san?” Albedo called over his shoulder to the seamstress who’d started sifting through a small pouch of sew-on crystals.

“Yes, Heika. You’re free to go,” she said, too invested in squinting her eyes to pick out the right size decoration to even glance at him.

Albedo blew out a breath and hopped off his platform, taking a seat next to his teacher, dragging his notebook towards him and re-slotting his note from earlier between the right pages.

“Now, are you still focussed enough for any more practice?” Master Vultur asked, flipping through his own notes in search of a next topic of conversation to quiz him on. As soon as he seemed to have settled on a page regarding the culinary arts, the large library doors parted and the light from the chandelier-lit hallway draped itself across the floorboards.

Both men looked up at the disturbance, the seamstress still too engrossed in her own work to either notice or care at all.

Stumbling in, slightly flushed in the face and with a heavy book clutched against her chest, came one of his mother’s students. Her drooping ears twitched against the blue rim of her cap as she blinked to get used to the dim surroundings. Her cobalt blue skirt swished around her ankles as her heeled boots stumbled to a halt.

“Sucrose,” Albedo said in surprise.

“Miss Vayuda,” Master Vultur addressed her, lowering his notes to the table.

“Your Maje- Oh… my apologies, did I interrupt something?” the teal haired girl asked, eyes blown wide as they always were, darting back and forth between them, glittering behind her large, round glasses. As an afterthought she bowed shortly, hoping to salvage her lack of formality.

“Yes, we were in the middle of-” Master Vultur began, but Albedo interrupted him, a spark of excitement igniting in his mind after what felt like hours of dull repetition.

“What is it?” he asked eagerly, pushing himself up from his chair by the table and leaning over it slightly to see the title of the book in her hands.

“It’s-uhm… Well, it’s just that I found out… something really interesting, that I- uh- I thought you might want to know as well? But I can come back later if this is not a good time, please, don’t let me interrupt something important. I’ll just-” she mumbled, already shuffling back towards the doorway, desperately trying to avoid the Scribe’s annoyed stare, but glancing back at him anyway.

“Wait,” Albedo said, turning to his teacher, “can we cut this session short, Master Vultur?”

His teacher leveled an unimpressed stare at him, sighed deeply, and then moved to gather all of his papers.

“As long as you tell your mother to pay me in full, it’s your own call… Your Majesty.”

Albedo stuffed his notebook underneath his arm, bowed his head shortly in gratitude to his teacher, and then jogged to join Sucrose, who immediately held out her book in front of her to allow Albedo to read the title.

The heavy double doors fell closed with a loud creak and the library was bathed in silence, only interrupted by a heavy sigh from Master Vultur.

“Between you and me, Master Scribe, I doubt that child would be able to locate the word ‘discipline’ in a dictionary if asked.”

“And neither the word ‘obedience’, Ogura-san.”

Sucrose’s chambers were right underneath his own and had a perfect view of the imposing cathedral that bordered the city. Even through the distorting glass panels of her stained glass windows and the soft shower of snow still floating leisurely through the sky, the cathedral was eye-catching, especially in the light of dusk. A bright orange glow lined the towers as the sun disappeared behind them.

Sucrose’s windows were decorated with a simple flower design in the middle. White petals, grassy leaves and a bright yellow center, its namesake corresponding precisely with the person living behind the glass.

Sweet flowers were her favorite subject of study and so her chambers were full of them. Kept alive in crystal vases, dried and pinned to research papers, sketched in notebooks and on the large chalkboard that stood against the wall.

Her room could rival the library itself with the amount of books scattered around and it seemed that, even though she invited Albedo over to chat in private quite often, she never had the mind to tidy up the turquoise covers sprawled along her bed.

As soon as she opened the door and realized the state of the space, she stuttered mid-sentence, much to Albedo’s amusement.

“-Oh- ah, I’ll just- Please don’t mind the mess, Mister Albedo, uhm- Take a seat, please,” she exclaimed, the words rushing out of her mouth as fast as her tiny sprint towards her bed. She arranged the flowery pillows and straightened the bed spread, tossing a book laying on top of it to the side, nudging it underneath her bed with her foot as she worked.

“So, as I was saying, the mountain range down south of the Kingdom is quite special because, as you know, it was made by your mother, uh- I mean,” Sucrose cut herself off, shaking her head softly as she jogged over to the cabinet by the window that was filled to the edges with used test-tubes and pipettes,“ -everyone knows that, I guess,” she mumbled, “but she actually explained to us in detail how she did it and what she used!”

She scooped up nearly all glassware and rubber in her arms at once and hurried through the door that led to her washroom, presumably settling everything in her sink if the sound of glass hitting lacquerware was anything to go by.

“Mona didn’t think you’d be all that interested since it’s just a straightforward case of deposition if you think about it, but I thought it was so genius, I never would have thought of putting those reagents together!” the faucet was turned on momentarily and after a second Sucrose came hurrying into her proper room again and joined Albedo at the desk that bordered the wall across from her bed. Upon noticing the fact that Albedo had chosen to sit on the small stool next to the large desk chair, she shooed him away and into the larger chair of the two, while taking a seat on the small stool herself instead, “I can’t wait to try out the effect on a flower and see if it changes during prolonged exposure to a constant freezing state. I’m hoping it’ll affect the flavor somehow, just like boiling can change flavors.”

Sucrose slid the book into the middle of the desk space and flipped it open, taking a breath to continue her rant.

“Sucrose,” Albedo said before she could. She shut her lips and looked at him curiously, “maybe we could… talk about the contents of the lesson?” he asked, smiling at her hesitantly.

“Ah, yes. Yes, of course,” Sucrose shook her head as if to clear her thoughts away, “forgive my rambling, I was just- Yes, okay, so- Let’s see…”

She took a deep breath to gather her bearings and pointed to a small, charcoal illustration at the center of the page. Dragonspine’s familiar points and edges were depicted by their dark shadows upon the stone, almost opposite from the beacon of white snow it was in reality. Its sides, surfaces, barren caves and even the occasional tree near the base were always completely frozen solid, either glittering white or blue in the sun.

“You know how it’s always snowing on Dragonspine, no matter what?” she looked at him with a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Yes?”

“Well, those storms are artificial. Your mother made them.”

Albedo frowned, glancing back at the sketch in the book. Even the artist hadn’t neglected to add tiny pinpricks of snow circling the edges of the mountain.

“Did she? Why?”

“Well, I… actually don’t know. She didn’t say why, exactly… But did you know that apparently, it’s all snow. All of it. The entire mountain!”

Albedo blinked.

“What? The entire structure?”

“Yes!” It seemed that the excitement from recent discoveries were once again getting the best of Sucrose. Albedo’s frown deepened in confusion, and slight exasperation about Sucrose taking his mother’s words for the immediate truth. He would think, as a researcher, she would be asking questions at every twist and turn of the story.

“But it’s kilometers high. How is it able to carry its own weight?”

“Apparently it’s frozen solid. That’s why it’s so ill-advised to visit there, the cold is so intense, a person would get hypothermic in just a few minutes of being there without an immediate source of warmth next to them.”

Albedo remained silent for a moment, settling the new information in its respective mental drawer as a replacement for what he thought he knew. Sucrose accepted his silence as an invitation to start gushing again.

“So what you mother did after defeating Durin was to cover its entire body in this mist made up of pulverized aggravated dendro cores, Agnidus Agate and Nitric acid, to make it decompose much faster than it naturally would, so after just a few hours, only it’s skeleton remained. Unbelievable, isn’t it? I didn’t even know a substance existed that was corrosive to that degree!”

“... I didn’t either. But, Sucrose, why would she do that? Did she say anything about that?”

“Not really… She mostly just explained how she made the substance.”

“But why would she not just let the body decompose naturally like every other Dragon in history? Why was she in such a rush?”

Sucrose looked to the side, mulling over his questions, biting her bottom lip and tapping a gloved finger against it at the same time.

“Those are interesting questions, mister Albedo. I’ll make sure to ask her next week.”

“That would be great. I’m just curious… If she then covered the entire structure in artificial snow, as you say, wouldn’t that just make the land extremely hard to use? Like you said, it’s dangerous to be on Dragonspine at all, let alone set up residence there. Wouldn’t it have been more logical to use some sort of dirt substitution, so the land could still be used for agricultural purposes?”

“Oh! The Queen did say something about that! She explained that, even though everything is snow right now, certain creatures like snow foxes and hares could still burrow underneath to a certain degree and contribute to starting ecosystems there. And from there on out, she said she had faith that nature would take over and transform the icy landscape into a genuine mountain made of corroded dirt, stone, animal remains, etcetera.”

“Right,” Albedo said, nodding slowly, “I see. Thank you for bearing with my questions, Sucrose. I understand you just relay to me what you’ve been told.”

“It’s no problem at all, mister Albedo. I’m just happy to have such a sharp conversational partner to bring up such questions that hadn’t occurred to me yet,” Sucrose smiled at him and leaned across the desk to grab a quill from its stand near the back. She didn’t dip it in ink but instead used it as a pointer as she searched for the first of many interesting passages in the book that had caught her eye. “So, about that artificial snow-like substance. Look, it says here, it’s made of a base of Cryo slime condensate, infused with Anemo elemental energy harvested from the crystal flies found near the Dawn Winery…”

Chapter Text

The cool breeze streaming through the high double doors swept up words in all different languages as it drifted along the crowd. It spiraled along the sparkling chandelier and rushed past layers of lace and underskirts close to the floors, taking with it the clicking of heels against marble and the rush of flames crackling on candle-wicks. It ruffled Albedo’s hair against his cheeks and brushed it to hang leisurely over the golden clips settled above his ears.

The sounds all blended together in a symphony of stimulation, clogging his mind until the only thing left was the sound of his own breathing.

He had to actively fight the urge to squint his eyes at the millions of sources of light that moved all around him, beneath him, above him, everywhere. Glittering suits and dresses, reflections of the candlelight against the polished plates of gold brushed pastries, shining patterns along the wall, glinting embellishments along the doors and tall windows. The sheer amount of movement and color made him want to close his eyes and tune out the world, like he did the fireworks outside his window or the pointed glares from his mother directed at the staff.

He swallowed and inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm his aching chest with the sweet scent of the roses he was situated next to.

He was seated on his throne, next to his mother, who shone like the sun up high above the crowd, drawing the eye of anyone entering with the golden gleaming fabric of her dress and the imposing crown of crystal and diamond atop her head.

His suit was a deep and quiet shade of blue, trimmed with silver crystals along the sleeves and draped over a ruffled white shirt with a collar too tight for comfort. The ribbon tied around it didn’t ease his breathing any, and neither did the large moon-shaped belt-buckle digging into his stomach. The crown on his own head felt like a dozen kilograms and the glittering earrings dangling past his face were much the same.

As usual on nights like these, he was grateful for his curfew for once. Being sent to his chambers early meant having to endure less of all of this.

A pair of silver haired government officials climbed the stairs up to their thrones, followed closely by their blond retainer. The heirs of the Inazuman Kamisato clan, Albedo knew. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, had even had a short conversation with the lady of the two, and yet they seemed different than the last time they visited. More refined, colder perhaps. Or maybe that was just him. Maybe he couldn’t pinpoint the exact change in their faces because he had been avoiding eye contact during their previous encounters and this was just the result of a couple of added years of age. He doubted he looked the same to them as he once did, either. Their retainer, though, standing quietly and politely smiling behind them, his hands folded behind his back as he watched the two of them bow to the Queen, had a sort of familiarity to him that made him look almost timeless. Once again, Albedo couldn’t exactly place the cause of the familiar gaze in his eyes.

As the Queen met them with a carefully controlled nod of her head and a greeting far kinder than any resident of the castle could ever hope to receive, Albedo simply sat and smiled and tried to memorize their facial features.

Technically he could excuse himself and do something else. His mother had urged him to do so, even. He could, hypothetically, walk around the dancefloor, strike up conversation with the guests, practice his foreign language skills at that, or get a bite to eat from one of the many tables stacked with delicacies. That would, however, mean having to represent his Kingdom to perfection in conversation in languages he suddenly felt like had left his mind completely. Sitting here, at least he didn’t have to speak. It did mean that he was more akin to one of the many accessories embellishing his mothers presence, though, but at least he couldn’t go wrong with a silent smile and nod.

All the people were here for was to stay in his mothers good graces and to advertise their own political statuses to officials of other countries. Nobody cared where the Prince was, whether he spoke or not, what he ate or drank or how often his eyes drifted towards the windows to get distracted by the thick flakes of snow obscuring the night. All he was here for was to complete the dazzling picture of the ‘Mondstadtian Royal family’.

He couldn’t even get himself to pay attention to the words spoken next to him, his mind already wandering to the new piece of music the string-orchestra started playing in a far corner of the ballroom.

He’d played the piece on the piano many times before but couldn’t remember its name. Just that it sounded like the stars to him. Like every speck of light in the sky was a different note that the breeze brushed past to harmonize into a gentle melody. The music lilted in an almost curious way, like it wanted to ask a question but couldn’t find the words. It spoke of a wish that would never be voiced aloud.

A glint of light caught Albedo’s eye.

Through the shadows of the long hallway leading to the ballroom, through the high doors and between silent suits of armor lining the path, a smattering of silver. It moved closer to the light, glittering fabric dancing above white, heeled shoes, catching the light of the ballrooms soft candles.

A girl emerged in the doorway, slowing her steps as she took in the grandness of the room with wide, golden eyes. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold evening air, her shoulders draped with light fabric visibly unwinding at the warmth of the ballroom.

Nobody noticed her. Not even the diligent staff moving skillfully between guests to serve drinks paid her any mind, moved past her as if she wasn’t there. She didn’t seem fazed by the odd behavior. She simply seemed star-struck at everything she was suddenly engulfed in, moving slowly further into the room as she let her eyes drift between various sources of glittering light.

There was no one with her. No retainer or servant or translator or family member. She seemed unfamiliar too. Albedo could have sworn he’d never seen her before and he recognised almost every face in the room, if only vaguely.

The girl seemed to linger in awe for a moment at a large decor-piece, filled with white flowers, spilling out in a grand array of shapes and sizes in a golden vase. She stood on her toes to smell them. Her eyes widened slightly as she lowered herself back down, still staring. Then she moved on to a table to the side filled with Moonpies and glasses of Apple cider, picking up a glass of the golden liquid and watching it slosh around against the crystal.

Albedo watched her taste it, put it back, and start wandering again.

He couldn’t seem to look away. The kind of people that were eligible to get invited to an event like this had to be trained in etiquette to the highest refinement, or would at least have to make sure they knew their basic do’s and don'ts when visiting the Queen… Albedo had never seen someone so seemingly lost in their own world at a formal event. His mind took a breather from trying to focus on the roses and kept drifting back to her, as she moved through the dancing guests in the middle of the hall, curious as to what strange move she might make next.

He didn’t expect her to look straight at him.

His breath caught in his throat as their eyes locked, the girl slowing to a stop again as she watched him intently, standing right in front of the elevated platform he sat on. For a moment, neither one even blinked.

Then she smiled at him.

She didn’t smile through him or past him like the lords and ladies from Fontaine, not strained and stiff like the representatives from Inazuma. Not careless and thrown at any passerby like the general Mondstadtian and not reserved and carefully measured like the scholars from Sumeru.

A soft and genuine smile that made her eyes crinkle up at the corners and her lips purse in such a way they revealed a sliver of her front teeth. A smile that Albedo couldn’t deny looked incredibly genuine, but that confused him just as much as it relieved him to see.

What she did then was even more unexpected.

She extended a hand to him. Held her gloved hand in the air, fingers reaching towards him in invitation.

Albedo hesitated for a moment, but slowly pushed himself up by the arm-rests of his throne.

“Excuse me, mother. I’m going to move around a bit,” he mumbled to his mother, bowing shortly to her as she acknowledged him and nodded. She was preoccupied with her guests again in a second.

Albedo trailed his gloved hand down the railing of the curving staircase on his side as he made his way down. The girl’s eyes followed his every movement.

Her invitation still hung silently in the air between them as his boots touched down on the marble of the dancefloor.

The waltzing guests moved around her like a flurry of distracting movement, their skirts narrowly rushing past her, their outstretched elbows nearly skimming her shoulders, but not quite. She stood, unmoving as a statue, features etched into a warm and curious question.

Before Albedo had managed to make his way through the moving mess of dancers, her hand was snatched up by a man in matching gray, ginger hair contrasting starkly with the entirety of light and soft colors.

Her skirt joined the flowing swirls of fabric as the man led the both of them through the maze of guests, even his tall physique disappearing entirely between the differing hairstyles and ornate hats.

Albedo stilled and frowned, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the pair. Before long, a gentle pair of hands pulled him from his reverie and broke him away from his impractical spot in the middle of the dance floor.

“What are you just standing around for? Anyone could have trampled you with the speed at which they’re going,” the girl in front of him said as she lifted his hand to lay on her hip, grabbing his other one and holding it in position next to their shoulders. Albedo’s eyes snapped to the familiar icy blue of Mona Magistus, who seemed to be wearing an amused expression along with the star-shaped pendants dangling from her headpiece.

“Do you really think me that fragile?” Albedo teased, easily slipping into his comfortable rhythm with her as his thoughts were drawn back to events directly surrounding him.

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to rule out the possibility. I honestly found your reluctance to even try and lift that clock rather suspicious,” she replied, a mischievous smile gracing her lips as her eyes darted around the place, searching for the next pocket of open space to slip into and continue their waltz.

“You could come watch my fencing practice sometime, to prove your hypothesis incorrect.”

“Ha, I think it would prove me right, actually. You’re no match for Master Gunnhildr. You’d be on the floor in no time if she didn’t go easy on you for the sake of practice.”

Albedo followed the music’s lead and, alongside all other duos on the dancefloor, extended his arm up high so his partner could twirl underneath and lean away from him, only to be drawn back in close a second after.

Even though he had practiced beforehand, Mona was the one truly doing them justice as her movements came fluid and easy, the swipe of her hand and the flick of her hair in perfect tandem with the count.

Albedo couldn’t suppress a light frown as Mona’s eyes swerved back to face him again.

“That’s an awfully challenging thing to say. I would almost invite you for a duel, but I’m not sure whether that book of yours would make for a worthy opponent against a sword.”

Mona grinned at him, shaking her head as the crowd around them dispersed for a second, hands leaving each other in search of new ones. The astrologist was swept away into the crowd by a purple-clad blonde before she had a chance to properly respond.

Albedo found himself face to face with only one eye, the other covered by a masterfully bedazzled patch of black and gold. The Cavalry Captain’s charming smile widened as he realized who the crowd had guided him towards.

“My, your Majesty, what a wonderful coincidence,” he said, his voice low and smooth as it always was when he was off-duty. Outside of commanding soldiers, shouting directions to sparring trainees or reprimanding a student’s sloppy footwork, the man was actually quite nice. Then again, almost everyone was nice to Albedo, on a surface level at least. Everyone except Mona. Those with an actual job at risk thought twice about raising their voice at the Prince, and Kaeya seemed to be no exception.

Nevertheless, the kindest Albedo had ever heard him sound was as he sat crouched down in front of the little girl in red that lurked around the fencing grounds every so often. This didn’t quite come close to those interactions, but it was pleasant enough nonetheless.

Albedo had painted his constellation right next to the window for a reason. The man’s undying loyalty, both to the citizens of the Kingdom and the Royal family, was something to be admired. From his place on the ceiling, he would be able to look out over the city with the watchful eye he always kept. No threat would face the people of Mondstadt on his watch. It was a comforting thought.

“Captain Alberich, how nice to see you,” he said, falling into pace with the taller man easily, the imposing fur-lining of his cape brushing softly against Albedo’s arm, “I wasn’t expecting you to attend in all honesty.”

The Cavalry Captain let out a charming laugh, glancing over his shoulder and back again. Albedo followed his gaze and found who couldn’t be anyone other than Kaeya’s plus-one at the end of it.

“I wasn’t either, initially. Jean convinced me to go. Told me the stuffy air in my office was getting to my head too much and it had been too long since we danced together. How could I possibly have said no after that?”

“Master Gunnhildr had to convince you to spend a night out? That’s unlike both you and her.”

“Yes, well, with the preparations drawing so many soldiers away from their usual posts, there were quite a lot of jobs to fill in for. Jean helped me out at first, but even she reckoned it couldn’t hurt to spend a night off. It’s been weeks since we last participated in the celebrations downtown. Both of us could use a good glass of wine and some music.”

“Well, I hope tonight’s celebrations are to your liking. I’m sure the soldiers on duty have everything handled just fine, without you or Master Gunnhildr.”

“I’ll have to trust they do,” Kaeya said, extending his arm to allow Albedo a graceful side step. The pair spun in place and fell still after that, feet angled steadily onto the ground, the guests all lined up in a neat formation as the music came to a stand still.

The hall was no doubt filled with winded laughter, hidden behind reserved smiles, and enchanted eyes, finding comfort and joy in those of their partner’s. To dance was truly a magical experience, engulfed in glittering light and sweeping music, close to a chosen partner, or an incidental one. Albedo was glad it was a custom in Mondstadt. He was glad his people got to feel like this every time they shared the night together.

His own hands were starting to feel cramped, though, in the Captain’s steady grip. They were hot and rigidly locked around gloved fingers, the slight windedness from the dance tugging at the ribbon around his neck.

He presented Kaeya with a kind smile as their hands separated, stepping away from each other and dropping into a respectful courtesy to tie off the dance with a neat little bow.

“May you find relaxation and joy tonight, Captain Alberich,” Albedo said.

“And you, your Majesty,” Kaeya responded.

The orchestra situated against the wall started up slowly with the gentle strike of a violin, the touch of a piano joining in soon after. Captain Kaeya moved past Albedo, a hand outstretched to the new partner he’d spotted, striding over confidently and with mature ease.

Albedo had the urge to duck out of the crowd but their ending position had left him stranded right in the middle of it.

As footsteps started to fill the quiet once again, he resigned himself to the fate of choosing one last partner to dance with. Surely some of the guests would be open to dancing with the Prince… But once again, he was not the one to invite his partner to dance. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was once again dragged into the steadily warming rhythm by unfamiliar hands.

A small sound of surprise left him as he was swept along and pressed close to a woman in white. Her eyes shone an unfamiliar crimson and her white hair trailed down almost as far as the train of her dress. A lavish red tassel hung from the jewelry draping past her hair and a distinctly Liyuan hairpin stuck out from the updo at the back of her head.

Albedo blinked once and immediately schooled his features, his touch as light as a feather, his brows carefully controlled to do anything but frown. In front of him stood the Tianquan of the nation of Liyue.

His heart sank slightly at the realization, but he made sure she wouldn’t be able to tell.

Her eyes were sharp and focused, the serious expression on her face shifting to a polite smile as she found Albedo’s eyes.

“Your Majesty. It’s a pleasure to share this dance with you,” she said in sharp and lilting Liyuan. The language was beautiful, sounded almost like poetry when spoken aloud, and resembled art when inked down… Albedo just wasn’t confident in it. At all. He’d learned the basics, had tried to keep up with it, but Inazuman came much easier to him and with his added studies of Sumeran, he could positively say that any and all Liyuan knowledge lay hidden away in the corners of his mental drawers, far, far hidden from the light of day.

“Xièxiè,” Albedo said, hoping the Tianquan was a lady of little words, “I feel… the same, my lady.”

The woman quirked her eyebrow a little as they swayed, the smile growing slightly more amused than the rigid one it was before.

“Knowledgeable in the language, I see. I’m impressed. I’ve heard much about your academic prowess. To know four languages by heart is no easy feat.”

She spoke somewhat slowly, her voice low and calm, which Albedo was eternally grateful for. Still, although the words registered in his mind correctly for the most part, formulating a proper response was rapidly taking up all of his concentration.

“Xièxiè,” he said again, when he felt like the silence had already hung between them for too long, “... I hope you’re enjoying the evening.” The front of his shoe stuttered across the tiles as he misplaced a step.

He righted himself in an instant but couldn’t help but duck his gaze to the side and hope she hadn’t noticed. That, along with the standard textbook response he’d prompted the conversation with.

“I am, thank you. I have to say, although very different from Liyuan music, the orchestra sounds exquisite.”

Albedo hummed in response. He had no idea how to respond to that. The Tianquan’s perfume smelled incredibly strong, and Albedo noticed she was a much better dancer than him, both in rhythm and lightness on her feet. A particular piano run caught his attention, one he’d practiced over and over again a few days ago. The chandelier above him was so incredibly bright. His mind seemed to focus on anything other than the conversation that required his attention so much.

“I… I love the guzheng. The sound is very… rich. Very different from Mondstadt string instruments,” Albedo said, hoping his accents weren’t too far off. Liyuan was a tricky language when not one’s native. It required a lot of delicate precision. Delicate precision that he did not have at the moment.

“Ah, the guzheng is wonderful. I indulge in playing it every so often. You play instruments as well, am I correct?”

“Ah, yes. I play the piano and the violin.”

The Tianquan hummed in response this time, her eyes scanning the crowd for something seemingly specific, though Albedo couldn’t decipher what exactly. His suit pulled at his shoulders and his feet felt cold despite all of the movement.

The Tianquan swerved the both of them to the side quite forcefully, forcing Albedo to adjust his footing and try to keep up with her pace.

She promptly let go of his hands. She was gone the very next moment.

Albedo blinked, vaguely registering his still moving feet.

She’d been scouting the crowd for a new partner. She’d been preparing for the switch while Albedo was still trying to scramble and fully open that stubborn Liyuan drawer that seemed stuck and was refusing to open for more than a crack, while listening for the rhythm at the same time and keeping his features in check and making sure his hair wasn’t hanging past his face in an unflattering way and also making sure his breath wouldn’t catch on the ribbon around his throat-

Something warm and solid bumped into his chest.

The soft feel of either velvet or satin grasped at his suede-clad fingers, another hand laying on his shoulder, weighing it down, feeling as heavy as his crown and his earrings and the golden clasps of his shoes.

Albedo opened his eyes, forced them to face the person in front of him, praying they were familiar or Mondstadtian at least, just so he could give up that useless yanking at the handle of the drawer.

The eyes meeting his were not familiar but not completely new either. He’d locked with those eyes before. They were golden and bright and scrunched up at the corners one moment but dropping wide with slight concern the next.

He blinked at them for a moment and they blinked back.

“Oh… M-My apologies, where are my manners,” Albedo mumbled to her, hoping his Mondstadtian would be sufficient for her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The girl responded with a slight tilt of her head, a furrow of her brows. Her steps were light and careful, her modest skirt swaying against his legs, her short blonde hair brushing against her face as a gust of evening air rushed through a crack in one of the glass doorways along the side of the ballroom.

She didn’t say anything, though. Albedo cleared his throat once, shifting his eyes away from her for a second.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he forced himself to focus back on her.

Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit, as if searching for something in his, but once again she didn’t verbally respond. She softly shook her head and shifted her hand to grasp his differently, completely out of position of how a couple’s waltz was supposed to go.

Once again like before, she did something completely unexpected.

She turned on her spot, ducked in between two pairs of guests waltzing by and dragged Albedo along by the hand, leading him through the maze of clicking heels and rustling layers of tulle and lace. They ducked underneath outstretched elbows and past shimmering sashes, the air hot and compressed between the never ending cluster of bodies moving and brushing past each other.

She didn’t stop as they emerged from the crowd of the dance floor. The girl just kept leading him across the marble hall, towards the high glass doors that led to the balcony overlooking the gardens.

To Albedo’s complete surprise, not a single guest paid them any mind. Government officials, Royalty, their accompanying parties and even the staff simply swerved around them, chatting, smiling, clinking crystal glasses in toast or bowing politely to one another. Not a single person bat an eye at the Prince rushing past the frankly tasteless flowerpieces and gold embroidered tablecloths covering the stands. Not a single soul exclaimed in surprise as his shoulder bumped lightly against a server holding a golden tray, not a single accusatory shout or even a glance his way as the drinks swayed dangerously on the surface.

He didn’t get to witness the outcome of that ordeal as his skin was overrun with cold night air in an instant, drawing him out of his own mind and forcing him to take in his surroundings.

The girl didn’t quite stop yet. She led him off the left-most flight of stairs of the symmetrical structure that led down into the ornately structured field of flowerbeds, only slowing to a stop as they were completely hidden from sight, standing in the shadows cast by the balcony itself.

Albedo blinked once again, a response suddenly becoming quite familiar to him whenever he didn’t understand something. Which was very often in the past few minutes.

The girl simply looked at him with that wide-eyed curiosity, her cheeks already rosying from the chill of the evening. One soft snowflake after the other started to make themselves at home on top of her hair, dusting it with glittering light as it caught the reflection of the garden’s lanterns.

When Albedo didn’t say anything but simply stared back, the girl reached up and softly tugged at the ribbon around his neck. The midnight string unraveled and she tugged it away from his collar.

Albedo inhaled his first complete and full breath of air that entire evening, a rush of relief more so than actual freedom of constraint. It widened his eyes and cooled off his face and filled his chest and lessened that gnawing tightness around his lungs that had been intensifying as the evening progressed.

“... Thank you,” Albedo said softly, grabbing the ribbon from her and fumbling with it in between his fingers, “uhm… Why did you take me here?” he asked, tugging off his gloves absentmindedly and laying them on the railing of the stairs. The cold felt better against his fingers than the heat of his nerves had.

The girl simply shook her head softly, something apologetic in her gaze. Albedo began to suspect she might not be understanding him at all. Well, understanding his words. She didn’t make any effort to convey which language she did then understand but it kind of seemed like she was the only one that understood everything else about him already, without him even having to voice it.

Even when he compared her to any other guests he’d seen that evening, it was difficult to pinpoint where she might be from.

Her silver dress was unlike anything anyone else was wearing. It was nowhere close to the grand ballgowns of the ladies from Mondstadt or Fontaine, and nothing like the more elegant and trailing dresses originating from Liyue either. The Inazuman ceremonial Kimonos were entirely out of the question and it didn’t even match any general style of men’s wear either.

It reached mid-way to her calves, fell against her legs in a reserved way, without any big hoop-skirts or ruffled layers underneath. It was draped across her torso symmetrically, the light tule falling across her shoulders like a cloak of sorts.

And apart from the unusual fit, the dress was completely silver and covered in sparkling glitter, top to bottom. Strangely, Albedo didn’t feel as bothered by the light reflecting off it as he had other dresses. Not when it resembled the silent and steadfast stars more than the flickering flames and fickle shadows that danced across the walls and curtains.

Albedo honestly didn’t mind the silence between them. The girl didn’t seem to mind either, and seemed perfectly content with just gesturing what she meant. She tugged off her gloves and rested them on the railing right next to his own.

She then tapped her ear, angled her head to point it to the music drifting through the doors from the ballroom and shot a small smile at him, extending a hand to him. It hung in the air like before, careful and gentle, and this time, there was no one to cut the invitation short.

Albedo returned the soft smile and laid his bare hand against hers, their palms pressing against each other softly as Albedo’s other hand found her waist and hers his shoulder.

She was warm, so incredibly warm, the feeling traveled through his skin all the way up his arms and across his neck. Not the kind of warm he’d been before, the kind of warm that was stifling and pressing and without specific reason other than to make one uncomfortable. This warmth was radiating and bone-deep and was merely there to stave off the cold of the snow.

The snow on the paved walkway crunched with each slow step they took, the rhythm complimenting the music from inside in a steady one-two-three-one-two-three.

They stepped and spun and twirled and stepped again and nobody said a thing as puffs of condensated breath floated up between them and their eyes never left each other.

Albedo couldn’t tell how long they swayed like that, in silence. Somewhere in between musical pieces, the girl took off her shoes, parking her heels next to the steps neatly, her bare feet pressing into the snow. Albedo had given her an incredulous look, an ‘are you sure about that?’ of sorts, but the girl had seemed perfectly comfortable. She’d simply smiled at him and reached up to tug the crown off his hair, setting it next to her shoes in the snow. Then she grabbed his hands and stood closer to him again and Albedo was immediately drawn in by the warmth seeping through his stiff and rigid vest, the soft touch of the strange enigma he knew so little about.

They swayed and swayed until the clouds parted for the stars and the moon joined them in their silent dance. They stayed hidden behind the wall of stone and glass and golden framing as the snow came and went, the cold never getting to them. They danced even as the voices from inside thinned out and the string instruments were laid to rest. They remained lost in thought and searching the other’s eyes for some kind of message, some kind of meaning or explanation.

Even as the first specks of turquoise crept up along the horizon, they hadn’t found their answer.

The world was silent, the early morning asleep and the rosebuds closed in a comfortable little cocoon of petals. The crickets had stopped their chirping and the pigeons had taken over from high in the trees, ringing in the new day.

Only when the girl’s eyes drifted off to the side like they did every once in a while, did she freeze in her steps.

She dislodged her hand from his and took a step back, her eyes wide and glued to the shining dew on the leaves.

Albedo’s hands flushed with cold and he reached out a hand to lay on her arm, drawing her attention back to him, an unvoiced question in his gaze.

The girl shook her head softly, took another step back, and glanced at the sky again.

She shot Albedo one last look, one filled with a message loud and clear; ‘I’m sorry’.

She ran.

Her bare feet padded against the cobblestones as she rushed between bushes of lavender and clusters of Windwheel Asters, the silver of her dress shining in a myriad of colors against the slowly awakening garden.

Albedo watched her go, fingers burning from the absence of her, fixated on the sight of her as she disappeared behind the greenhouse.

He had never felt so cold in his life.

Chapter Text

Dawn stretched across the Kingdom of Mondstadt as its Prince let his back hit the covers of his bed.

He had no idea how late it was. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t be past noon and his next appearance would be after lunch, somewhere, sometime.

No, it didn’t matter if he just indulged in that strange state of mind he was in for a little longer. That strange, unexplainable, wonderful state of mind.

He huffed out a breath. It didn’t produce a cloud of mist above his face but he imagined it did.

What… had happened, exactly?

Albedo hauled himself upwards, sat upright on his bed, staring at the creak in the door next to which stood ivory heels. His eyes drifted upwards to the dresser that bordered the wall. Silver satin gloves lay folded neatly over one another, next to his own of black suede.

What had happened? How could that possibly have happened? What… What was wrong with him?

Albedo shook himself out of his own head, crawled off the bed and made his way to the desk that stood against the high window overlooking the city. He pushed aside the papers strewn about and grabbed one of his many notebooks, the one for his own personal projects, flipping it open and snatching his quill out of its ink stand.

The girl, he titled the page, adding the date in the corner and continuing underneath,

Who is she?
At yesterday night’s ball I danced with an unknown guest. She did not seem to understand the language of Mondstadt, and I did not think to try any other language as she communicated with me in gestures.

Why didn’t she speak?
She said not a single word. Perhaps she did not understand my questions but I would have expected her to convey to me the language she would like me to change to. She did not even try to tell me her name. I forgot to tell her mine. I reckoned she might already know, simply because she was a guest at the castle I reside in, but perhaps she did not either. I have never encountered anyone bold enough to drag a Prince away by the arm. I do not know why but I let her. She led me away from the crowd and we danced in the garden. We completely forgot the time.

How did she have this kind of effect on me?
I am usually a man of logic and punctuality. Granted, I have snuck out before, in the company of Mona, so I cannot claim myself to be the height of obedience. Still, to sneak out right underneath my mothers nose was quite the bold move. I do not even know if she noticed. Perhaps she thought I had gone back to my room when she lost sight of me. Nevertheless, we danced, for what appears to be hours on end, even though it did not feel like it. The only reason we ever stopped is because the sun was coming up. The music was long gone, as were the other guests. The venue had been cleared and the guards had returned to their original posts. That turned out to be quite the challenge for me as I had to make my way to my chambers unseen. Why did they not pass us while patrolling the garden? I will have to ask Master Vulpes in case he was around and witnessed the reason…

Why did she run away?
As soon as the first light of day reached the horizon line, the girl seemed- surprised? Shocked? Nervous? I cannot pinpoint exactly what was going on in her head, but she ran. She ran through the garden and disappeared behind the greenhouse, presumably making her way onto Starsnatch hill afterwards. Where was she going? What made her snap out of our dance? Why was she in such a hurry?

I might never know the answers to these questions as I am unsure whether I will see her again. I had never seen her before, and I am almost completely certain she has never been in attendance of an event such as this before. I just hope I will somehow be able to ask her, sometime in the future. For now, all I can do is speculate and ruminate on possible answers.

Hypothesis 1:
She is simply mute. She is a girl from a bordering nation who has either chosen not to speak for a personal reason, or was somehow rendered unable to. This would make the most sense as she likely would have said something in her native language, whatever language that might have been, had she been able to.

Hypothesis 2:
I was uncharacteristically lost in the moment because of the relief of mental strain. The night had been mentally draining for me as I was somewhat overwhelmed by the grandness of the event, the amount of people there, the secondary language skills that seemed to abandon me in my time of need and the uncomfortable attire that I was asked to wear. It only makes sense for me to feel better when removed from such a situation. I reckon I likely forgot the time as I was glad to be away from the crowds and relieved from my duties to talk, as well as my accessories.

Hypothesis 3:
She was simply shocked because of the same reason I was. The time got away from her and she had other duties to attend to and people to appease with her presence, and it was unacceptable for her to have remained at the Palace grounds for such an extended period of time. She left her shoes and gloves here because of her hurried state of mind and likely will send for someone to fetch them for her in the upcoming days.

(How was she comfortable without shoes or gloves in the snow, with attire so minimally making up for the cold? Is she alright?)

Albedo sighed, stared at the page he’d filled with chaotic scribbles, ran a hand through his still up-done hair. The result of his rambling was hardly valid for a proper research proposal, but it would have to do. It was a personal matter anyway. Nobody would be able to reference these notes but him.

He let himself lean back in his chair and stare out of the window. Ridges of snow piled up on the ledges, tracing the carefully crafted lines of the stained glass figure. The window in his room depicted a simple, four-pointed star. The simple design allowed for a clear view of the outside, even if the landscape was partially stained yellow through the golden glass.

It was a family crest of sorts. His mother had chosen to have it engraved in the grand entrance doors of the palace, in her personal wine glasses, in the rim around her throne, and coincidentally, in himself in a way. It was by no means engraved into his skin, but Albedo bore a birthmark eerily similar to the shape on his neck.

His mother used to tell him, when he was younger, that anything with that symbol could be seen as hers. Her alchemical creations, her acquired property, her correspondence and her kin. She had said it with a smile, a gentle hand on his cheek, a thumb tracing the tiny star on his skin with reassurance that she would always be there. She would protect him. She would care for him. He would have a home with her. He was hers, so to speak.

Albedo had believed her without question then. Had pressed himself close to her and let her run a hand through his hair without a doubt of her words in his mind.

Now… It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. He would be protected and cared for as long as he stayed in the castle. She would keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe, even if only from a distance, nowadays. But it was that change that made Albedo doubt, sometimes, if he should have taken those words for granted when he was little.

Then again, he reckoned that might just be the scientist in him, always putting question-marks behind any and all words of another. She was his mother. Of course she meant it.

Cold fingers absentmindedly traced the mark on his skin, the ribbon that had covered it no doubt lost in the snow somewhere near the balcony. He should probably go out and retrieve it later that day. If the guards noticed it on patrol, it might bring up questions.

A small, scratchy, tingle crawled through his throat and Albedo sighed.

Of course. It was unwise of him to stay out in the snow the entire night without a coat, of course he would catch a cold. It was entirely his own fault, he knew, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to him as the girl had been there to stave off the cold for them both.

How had she been so warm? How had she still been warm after hours outside?

Albedo glanced back over his shoulder at the gloves on the dresser. He would have to write a formal letter of appreciation to her and give it to whoever came to fetch her belongings.

He just hoped she didn’t catch a cold as well.

Mondstadtian winters were known to be quite harsh. The snowfall usually stayed gentle but the temperatures dropped to such low degrees that it was difficult to get the outdoor training grounds unfrozen and suitable for safe training. Duels were kind of pointless when the enemy was the slippery ground instead of the intended opponent.

Unfortunately for Albedo, he found that the winter wasn’t his only hindrance during combat. A lack of sleep would be enough to get him off his feet and onto the ground, apparently.

Master Gunnhildr extended a gloved hand to him, the other pushing up her fencing mask to rest on her head and reveal a smile to him.

“Come on, your Majesty. Don’t give up yet,” she encouraged him, hauling him to his feet. Albedo tugged off his fencing mask all together, dusting off the back of his pants as he sighed at the ground.

Master Gunnhildr’s constellation had taken up residence right next to Captain Alberich’s, just past the edge of the curtains. She wouldn’t necessarily be able to watch over the city that way, but she would be able to keep an eye on him, and that was enough.

“My apologies, Master. I’m not at my best today, it seems,” he said, meeting her eyes with an apologetic smile.

Master Gunnhildr dusted some artificial dirt off the back of his left shoulder and patted him on it afterwards.

“It’s alright, your Majesty. No knight can be at their best every single day. Maybe we would like to be, but that’s simply not how it works,” she said, with a tilt of her head in admittance.

“Can we, perhaps, take a few minutes to rest?”Albedo asked her, calves still burning from the strain of holding position, even though he was standing normally. A grave oversight on his part. Sleep was a crucial part of muscle recovery. Being on one’s feet the entire night would have quite the opposite effect.

“Sure. How about we take a five? But I want you back on your feet and re-energized after that. No giving up, alright?” she said, patting his arm one more time and moving past him to one of the benches that stood against the wall. Albedo joined her and could hardly suppress the tired huff that escaped him as he sank down onto the wood.

He rested his head back against the brick wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

“... If I may ask. What’s got you so tired, your Majesty?” came Master Gunnhildr’s voice from beside him. He cracked open one eye to look at her from the side.

“I suppose I… wore myself out dancing at the ball last night,” he said softly.

Master Gunnhildr let out an amused laugh.

“Is that so? I hadn’t expected you to dance much at all.”

“Well, I hadn’t expected you to convince Captain Alberich to take a night off either… Seems like we both let loose a little last night.”

“Heh, if by letting loose you mean having one glass to drink and then standing next to the doorway the entire night then…”

Albedo righted himself, turning to her fully, twisting the ornately decorated handle of his rapier in his hands absentmindedly. The star was carved out of the wood where the handle met the blade, a golden gemstone embedded in the middle.

“You didn’t dance? Not even with the Captain?” he asked. Master Gunnhildr let out a sigh, dropping her gaze to the floor. She twisted the nose of her boot back and forth, her eyes trailing the light that reflected off the golden plating.

“No… Kaeya was too busy actually following my advice. He must have had, what, six glasses or something? Upon my insistence, I must admit. He never would have if I wasn’t there. I told him I would stay sober to keep an eye on the personnel, in case anything happened.”

“Well, I hope you’ll be able to attend the nightly celebrations again soon. The atmosphere should help you relax, at least. A royal ball is not the best setting for recreation.”

“Ah, I hope so too. The crowds in the castle are way too stiff. Too… stuck to the same pattern, over and over again. It’s the myriad of different people that make the city so interesting. They all have their own unique style to bring to the dances, instead of that standard one-two-three. Waltzing is nice for a while but… it gets quite stale after an entire night.”

Albedo huffed out a breath, joining her in inspecting his shoes.

“You’re right. I don’t know how I remained interested for so long.”

“You must have had a good partner,” Master Gunnhildr said, tilting an amused smile at him. Albedo merely ducked his head the other way, staring at the golden embroidered banners hanging on the wall at the far end of the hall. A dragon with its heart impaled and its eyes narrow and furious stared back at him from where it was woven into the fabric, scales of turquoise, lined with gold, midnight horns and wings dripping with crimson.

“I suppose. She was… a good dancer. Better than me.”

“May I ask who it was?”

“... I don’t know. I didn’t get the chance to ask her name.”

“Ah… How unfortunate. Well, as long as you enjoyed yourself, that’s all that matters, right?”

Albedo nodded silently and pushed himself to his feet, turning to Master Gunnhildr and readjusting his grip on his sword.

“Shall we? I think the rest helped me recover.”

“That’s good,” his Master said, standing up and slotting her mask over her face again, following him to the middle of the marked off arena, “Now, I want to teach you a crucial lesson for when you’re feeling like you’re going to lose.”

She took her stance, feet shifted steadily, sword raised, other hand sprawled out behind her, and waited for him to mirror her.

“Prêt?” she asked, muffled behind the protective helmet.

“Allez,” Albedo responded.

Master Gunnhildr was the first to make her move, rapier clashing against his with a sharp zing.

“When you’re tired,” she parried a strike back, “-or injured,” a graceful jump backwards, feet shifting against the dirt, “-or if you feel like you’re losing control, and you’ve got an opening-”

Albedo swung his sword at her side, blocked easily by the other weapon. Master Gunnhildr surprised him with a bold step forwards, a stab of her rapier, the point against his chest before he could even move his arm to parry. Albedo stumbled a step back, an extra push of the weapon aiding in his loss of balance, and he landed with a huff in the dirt.

Master Gunnhildr’s weapon rested leisurely against his chest as he lay, clouds of dust billowing up from beside him.

“You run,” she finished.

She withdrew her weapon and extended a hand to Albedo for the fourth time that day. Albedo sighed and got to his feet without her help.

“What?” he asked, straightening his back and rolling the shoulder that took the brunt of the fall.

“You run away,” she said, lifting her mask to face him directly once again, “If you’ve lost control of the situation and you’ve got the chance, you run away. It could mean the difference between living and dying in that situation, and living is always the better option. Understand?”

Albedo tugged his mask up as well and nodded to her.

“Yes. I will remember that, however… You’re always telling me to fight with honor and courage. Running away is hardly courageous, is it? What if I’m leaving others behind and only saving myself by fleeing?”

“You wouldn’t actually leave them. You remove yourself from the situation, regroup, charge back in and retake the upper hand. We don’t leave anyone behind, but we do save ourselves if it means we can, in turn, save others. In a fight, your life means as much to you as it does to your companions.”

Albedo nodded, retaking his stance.

“I understand,” he said, waiting for Master Gunnhildr to join him back in position.

Their rapiers sung a melody of metal against metal following the rhythm of their footsteps, the count of their panting breath, over and over again until Albedo had won one of the rounds and they called it a day.

At the end of the class, Albedo couldn’t proudly claim to have regained the upper hand in a losing fight, or to have courageously turned the odds near a narrow defeat. He couldn’t say his grip had improved any, nor the precision of his footwork, his speed or the agility of his limbs. What he could take away was a dirt covered uniform, a sheen of sweat across his forehead and a single sentence that had caught on one of the handles of his mental drawers and refused to leave the forefront of his mind, repeating again and again-

If you’ve lost control of the situation and you’ve got the chance, you run away.

That afternoon it actually rained for once.

The garden was bathed in silence safe for the pitter patter of droplets against the leaves of the bushes and trees that lined neatly carved out pathways. The snow washed away somewhat, sliding off the petals of the flowers strong enough to persevere throughout the winter, streaming down the stone staircase railing, dripping onto the layer of white and revealing the separate stones underneath. The sky was painted gray with layer upon layer of billowing cloud, stretching as far as Dragonspine all the way in the distance, there morphing into the ever blue-ish tinted snow clouds that Gold had brought about, apparently…

Albedo had always liked the rain. It helped him think. It was a little impractical, trying to draw or paint in it, but the garden was supplied with plenty of pergolas and thick tree branches to take shelter underneath. He’d only had to hurry and get his supplies to his spot dry and whole.

A colorful array of pastels lay presented next to him, his sketchbook in his hands, one leg drawn in to rest a foot against the other and act as a desk of sorts.

He only used the darker shades, and some bright yellows and whites. He needed the blue of night, the gray of stone, the gold of candlelight and the white of reflecting silver.

The gray trailed the outline of the shadows upon the snow, footsteps upon the staircase, the soles of a pair of boots and a pair of heels. The blue left room for the stars past the castle wall. He didn’t actually know if the stars had been visible that night, but he’d decided it didn’t matter. The yellow fell across objects small and off to the side, outlining a pair of shoes and a crown on the ground, a double pair of gloves draped over the railing. The white bespeckled the air in the shadows, the idea of a dress, the impression of an earring, the vague outline of ghosts, growing clearer the more shades he dragged past the paper with his fingers.

The little clearing looked too empty when he looked up from the page. Something was missing, some centerpiece that had never been there but should have always been.

The bench he was sitting on creaked softly as another person took a seat, letting out a heavy sigh as Albedo had grown used to hearing from him.

“I think I’m simply not made for Mondstadtian winters…” the man next to him huffed, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking the droplets out of his hair, away from his ears.

Albedo let out a soft humm, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You’ll … get used to it, maybe…” he mumbled without looking up from his drawing. He started adding smudges of darker yellow to the window, faceless figures in the ballroom, unaware of their anonymous immortality in his sketchbook.

“I hope not. I’d have to adjust all over again when I go back home and that would be even more annoying.”

Once Albedo finished a shapeless figure behind the window, he looked up at the man sitting next to him.

Master Vulpes was one of the best additions to the castle staff whose arrival Albedo could remember. Unlike some of the maids or Captain Alberich, who had been here for as long as he could recall, Master Vulpes had only joined them about two months ago, all the way from Sumeru like Master Vultur, but a lot nicer and a lot less intimidating. He tried to be strict sometimes, when Albedo let his curiosity get the better of him and would reach out to touch a plant’s petals. He’d get his hands swatted away with a sharp reprimand or glare, but Albedo could tell he was never really that angry with him. He was actually surprisingly blunt for a member of the castle staff talking to one of the Royals, and Albedo suspected he would never raise his voice to the Queen like that, but he did to him and that’s why he liked him.

Master Vulpes wasn’t such a stickler for formalities like the rest. He would tell Albedo to get away from his greenhouse without a second thought or a ‘with all due respect’ hurriedly attached at the end. Albedo would get exactly the amount of respect he had earned from Master Vulpes and he had to admit that sometimes, being sent out of the greenhouse was entirely valid.

His constellation was still in the works, currently, but in the slow process of being added close to his own. December 29th, an endearing fox-like formation.

The man’s long ears twitched curiously as he leaned over to look at what Albedo was working on.

“What are you making?” he asked, rubbing his gloved hands back and forth across his upper arms to get some warmth into them. All it did was leave tiny streaks of soil on the white sleeves of his blouse.

“A drawing,” Albedo said, smiling at the page as he noticed Master Vulpes shooting him a deadpan from the corner of his eye.

“Yes, I can see that. I mean what does it represent?”

“The garden.”

“Why draw the stone wall of the balcony when there’s plants to the other side of it?”

“It’s… a memory.”

Master Vulpes leaned a little closer yet and took note of the figures behind the window, their tall hats and billowing gowns.

“Ah, of the ball?”

Albedo hummed in response, tracing a shadow onto the ground with gray, two sets of legs depicted against the snow.

“And you were outside?” Master Vulpes asked. As if purposefully planned, a small cough escaped Albedo’s throat, temporarily relieving the consistent itch that had been plaguing it ever since the end of his fencing class.

Master Vulpes made a disapproving noise, taking off his scarf and wrapping it around Albedo’s neck instead, distinctly Sumeran ornaments dangling against the page.

“Were you trying to get sick? Before I know it you’ll freeze half to death out in the snow at night and I’ll have to find your body the next morning when I come into work and I’ll be the one to have the break the news to your mother that her son froze himself willingly just to- what, canoodle with his dance partner in the garden instead of inside like all the other teens do?”

Albedo looked up at the barrage of words, most of them known to him but others way out of his league.

“Canoodle?” he repeated.

“Yes, canoodle. Be close to the other person. Hug or cuddle or hold hands or whatever you do with your dance partner at a ball.”

Albedo looked off to the side, hoping his hair might cover his ears for the most part because he couldn’t stop the awkward blush that flushed them pink.

“We weren’t… doing that,” he mumbled, tugging the scarf closer around himself. It smelled of the incense Master Vulpes burned in his private chambers and of the rain it had been caught up in a moment ago.

Master Vulpes let out a small laugh, no doubt shaking his head in that fond way of his that Albedo had observed whenever he used a word wrong or whenever the Sumeran medbay trainee dropped the herbs he’d just handed over.

“Sure, you weren’t. That’s why you were out in the garden and hidden from sight from the other guests, and most importantly, your mother.”

Albedo practically buried the lower half of his face in the scarf and cleared his throat once again. Impractical cold…

“It was hot inside. We got some… fresh air.”

“Hmm, understandable. I wouldn’t wanna stay there either. Way too much noise… Speaking of which-” Master Vulpes interrupted his own train of thought, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a folded piece of paper out which had thankfully stayed dry, “I got a new one for you. Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t have to hear him say it. It’s that bad.”

He unfolded the letter, revealing the graceful and looping Sumeran script, somehow made blocky and scratchy by the unique handwriting of the person on the other side of the correspondence. He cleared his throat and waited a moment, no doubt to add the dramatic effect the sender had told him to add.

“What do you call…” a suffering sigh escaped him before he could finish, “What do you call a funny mountain?”

Albedo had to admit he was already terribly amused just by the tone in which Master Vulpes said it. That kind of tone that conveyed the urge to do something, anything, else with his time, but that was so endlessly fond at the same time. The tone that always slipped out when talking about his ‘someone from back home’.

“What?” Albedo asked, meeting his eyes hesitantly.

“Hill-arious.”

The smile on Albedo’s face widened silently behind the scarf but Master Vulpes was onto him without even needing to verbally respond. He folded the letter again with a huff and stuffed it into his pocket, shaking his head.

“You’re just as bad as him, you know that, your Majesty?”

“It was funny. It was hill-arious.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“I liked it. And it’s just Albedo, okay? You don’t need… your Majesty.”

“I will start calling you by your name when you start calling me by mine.”

“Alright, Master… Tighnari,” Albedo caught himself before completing the habit of formality.

“If you must add ‘Master’, be my guest, Albedo… Hmm, that feels weird.”

“It’s okay. I like it,” Albedo told him, and Tighnari nodded, settling his back against the wooden backrest, stretching out his legs and watching the drops hit his boots as they stuck out from underneath the pergola.

They lapsed in silence for a moment and Albedo was nearly about to touch his stick of pastel to the paper again when he jumped slightly at the exclamation Tighnari suddenly let out from beside him.

“Agh, I’m going to be thinking about that all day! He always manages to find a way, doesn’t he?” he finished in a mumble.

“To do what?” Albedo asked.

“To stick himself right into my thoughts and refuse to leave. I’m telling you now, Albedo, as a person older and wiser than you- never fall in love. It’s too much of a hassle. Before you know it you’ll have your chamomile mixed up with your marigolds and the Queen will send someone to personally question you about why you caused her to be served marigold tea. They don’t even taste remotely the same, no wonder she was upset.”

Albedo let out an audible laugh this time, very badly hidden behind the scarf, making the Gardener’s ears twitch and swerve to face him.

“What?” he asked, slightly out of sorts still from his short bout of rambling.

“You’re hill-arious,” Albedo said softly, already grinning at the way Tighnari’s face morphed into something indignant, a faux-offended shock on his features.

“Oh, am I? I’ll tell you what’s hill-arious-”

Albedo couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so genuinely. Master Tighnari was funny, whether he liked it or not.

As the flickering light of an ornate lantern danced along the dark hallway, Albedo wondered to himself whether it was a positive development that he had been taking the rules of his curfew as more of a suggestion, or not. Nothing of note seemed to have happened yet, as a consequence, so without any evidence working against his theory, he would gladly keep testing the waters. His theory being that the only reason he had a curfew was for his mother to feel just that slightest bit more powerful.

He could have understood if she was trying to keep him from engaging in his secret studies of alchemy at night, but she apparently deemed no such measures necessary during the day, which is when Albedo did most of that sort of work. But then again, she didn’t know that so she could hardly use that as her reasoning for any sort of curfew, whatever the time of day.

Sucrose usually abided by a fairly strict curfew of her own and Mona was often much too preoccupied to give him the light of day when the light of the stars called her instead.

Still, he came to a standstill in front of her door and rapped his knuckles against the wood three times. The wood held a small, round window near his eye-height, the glass in it textured and too rough to see through clearly. It was meant as more of an indicator of Mona’s presence, and currently, soft golden light shined on his features from inside.

The soft clicking of a gear being turned died down but no footsteps sounded.

Albedo sighed and knocked again. Evidently, Mona wanted to try her hand at ignoring him for a bit before entertaining the thought of letting him in.

The response he got was a sigh louder than his own from inside, the scraping of a stool and, finally, the soft clicking of hard-soled shoes against the stone flooring.

The door swung open and revealed the witch he’d been seeking after, her hair down and seeming even longer than usual now that it was exempt from its bindings. Mona was dressed in her midnight nightgown, a simple design with billowing sleeves and a low cut neckline, her feet clad in comfortable flats, still lined with gold.

She seemed slightly annoyed about being disturbed, and wholly unsurprised to see him.

“Must you disturb a lady in her private chambers in the middle of the night?” she asked, lingering in the doorway for a moment longer before stepping to the side and letting Albedo inside.

“I wasn’t aware that time moves differently in your tower,” Albedo said, a small smile playing on his lips as he took a seat on the sofa near the window. “I believe it is only eleven.”

Mona’s window held a gold, crescent moon in the middle, and all around the pane were stars of different colors scattered about, some red, some purple, others a light blue. A similar collection of stars was strung from the ceiling above her own personal telescope, which, unlike in Albedo’s personal study, was closer to a peeping hole carved out in the wall, which the scope peered through to the galaxies awaiting it in the distance. Above Mona’s bed, an extravagant frame with ruby curtains hanging from its beams, hung a collection of planets, held in the air by nothing but magic. They floated about up there, and rotated with the rotation of the earth, misplaced every new time Albedo came in. An actual sheen of illusory stars coated the ceiling of the entire room, an endless, fabricated abyss, perfect to peer into and ponder the existence of life, Albedo supposed.

He much preferred the steadfast collection of paints on his own. He could get dizzy just looking at these moving enigma’s.

“You know full well what I mean,” Mona said, tidying up a strewn about sock that lay on the carpet and tossing it next to her bed on the floor, “You aren’t even properly dressed yourself. You can hardly fault me for not expecting visitors at this time of night.”

A true beacon of elegance, Mona was, with the way she swept her hair over her shoulder with her chin held high, while she tossed the sock’s companion, picked up from a little further away, in the general direction of the other one.

But, she was correct. Albedo hadn’t been fully planning to visit her impromptu like this either.

He had laid in his bed, staring at his steadfast, unmoving stars, for about two hours, before giving up on his pursuit of sleep. He was tired, that was not it, the day’s and yesterday’s wakeful hours fully catching up with him, but his mind was too active still, unable to let him rest without presenting him with yet another question he had no definitive answer for.

He had hoped Mona would be able to help, or at least send him in a general direction to investigate further. Astrology was still not something he dared to fully put his trust into, but Mona’s latest attempt at convincing him had left… something, sticking in his mind. A feeling, perhaps, illogical as that was. Feelings hardly counted as conclusive evidence to any sort of investigation, but Albedo believed this to be very much related to his own personal questions, and had thus not been operating on the usual procedures for research anyway.

And so he had padded his way through the silent hallways, clad in his pristine, white nightwear, to ask her:

“Mona, could you help me with something?”

Mona turned to him at the question, her expression a mix of curiosity and slight unease. She seemed to pick up on his serious tone, and interpreted it as a sign to settle down and actually hear him out. She strided over and took a seat next to him, turning to him to face him properly.

“Is it something serious?” she asked, her own questions no doubt emerging in her mind.

“Nothing grave,” Albedo was quick to reassure her, “nothing negative, just… something somewhat strange.”

“Oh, just tell me then!” Mona exclaimed, giving him a soft push against his shoulder as the worry melted off her features. “What on earth could be so important that the genius prodigy Prince would seek out my input at this hour?”

Albedo hesitated for a moment, thinking over his exact choice of words.

“I was wondering… whether you could do a reading on my constellation?”

“... Why would you want that?” Mona asked, something akin to suspicion sneaking into her eyes. “You don’t even believe in astrology. What use would it be to you?”

“I may not be in the habit of trusting my research results to the meaning of stars, but I do believe that you are not looking at something purely imaginary while doing readings. What the stars tell you, exactly, could be anything to me, that doesn’t matter. All I want to know is… if something has changed.”

“You suspect something might have?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I would like to confirm. If something has changed within my constellation, then maybe… maybe that could give me a little more piece of mind. Maybe then I would finally feel like it’s not just in my head.”

Mona regarded him curiously for a moment, a gentle smile appearing on her lips.

“Is it about that girl?” she asked softly, badly concealed fondness in her voice.

Albedo met her eyes and, for the first time that day, did not feel the urge to excuse himself for the way his skin flushed at the memory. He knew Mona would tease him relentlessly. She was clearly already connecting many non-existent dots in her mind that would lead to some truly original quips about the subject, but still. Mona had told him about countless peers she had been… entranced by, so to say. Albedo didn’t know what to call it, exactly, but Master Vulpes’ words rang through his head and he couldn’t deny the fact that his face was probably flushed again.

‘Never fall in love,’ he’d said.

“Yes,” Albedo admitted, “did you see her?”

“I saw her,” Mona said, “she looked absolutely radiant. Why, don’t tell me you truly think she might have changed something within your very constellation. Already? After one night?”

Mona was having far too much fun with this, Albedo concluded, and made a note to himself to remind her of that blonde girl that had swept her away from him, who had gotten that exact look Mona always sent the people who had caught her eye.

“Like I said, I’m not sure. Will you do it?”

Mona rolled her eyes slightly and got up, patting down a crinkle in the fabric of her nightgown.

“Of course I’ll do it,” she said, moving to close to curtains fully and drape them both in a more isolated sort of darkness. Albedo went around and snuffed out the candles one by one, snuffing out his own lantern last of all, the little door of glass creaking as he opened and closed it. Once the room was bathed in darkness, safe for the soft glow of the illusory galaxy above them, Mona sat down again and closed her eyes.

“Do you need me to leave?” Albedo asked her, and he could make out the way Mona shook her head, even in the darkness.

“As long as you’re silent, you can stay.”

Albedo perched on the foot of her bed, her red velvet covers soft to the touch.

Mona breathed deeply, silently, fully in and out as she focussed on the stars and what they had to say. Quicker than the last time Albedo had witnessed her trying, a glittering trail of light weaved around her hands as she moved them with perfect control, painting streaks and symbols in the air in front of her.

Once the diagram was fully formed, she seemed to steel herself.

“Let me scry.”

For a moment, nothing of note seemed to happen, but Albedo quickly realized the process was very much an internal one, Mona’s eyelids fluttering as she scanned every which way in her mind's-eye.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she observed what he couldn’t see, “there doesn’t seem to be much of a difference, as far as I remember. Your constellation has always been a strange one, and it still is…” she mumbled, moreso to herself than to him, he suspected. Mona moved her right hand over to join her left, as if twisting the map of stars to a new angle to regard it in a new light.

She stilled, a quiet breath escaping her.

“You were right,” she whispered, and Albedo’s heart jumped in pace significantly.

Something was different. Something had changed.

This was incredibly helpful information. This could finally lead him in the right direction.

Still, as much as he wished to speak, Albedo stayed completely silent, not wanting to disturb her concentration.

“There’s something new…” Mona muttered, “something… also strange. You just love a good mystery, don’t you?”

Albedo wasn’t sure she had meant that in the way she did, but the way the words registered in his mind just made him flush again, and he was starting to grow a little tired of the feeling. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was strange. Foreign. Illogical. Albedo hadn’t yet decided whether he liked it or despised it, but it was certainly interesting.

“Ah, don’t tell me…” Mona said, her eyes scrunching up as she leaned slightly closer to a sight that wasn’t there. She let out a sigh, frowning at him through closed eyelids.

She let her hands drop, and the glow dissipated immediately.

“What’s the matter?” Albedo asked softly once Mona blinked her eyes open. Instead of answering him directly, she stood and turned to stare at her ceiling, bringing up a hand to trace lines through the air, weaving a temporary constellation into the blinking collection.

The brightest stars in his formation had always looped in a strange sort of semi-circle, representing something akin to a vial or a beaker of some sort. The duller smatterings of stars had filled up the space in the middle with something, but Mona had never been able to make it out fully.

Once Mona had connected the main structure, she did as she had during the reading, and twisted the whole to show him a side angle instead.

There, amidst the duller stars, was one that was clearly different in color. Whereas most of his stars were either white, gold, or sometimes a faint blue, this one was clearly silver.

Albedo didn’t know whether he should call the feeling in his chest hope or disappointment. That silver clearly referenced the exact answer he had been looking for. And that answer had run away through the snow-filled gardens, to disappear at the break of dawn.

“I trust even you can see that it’s clearly her,” Mona said, glancing at him shortly from the corner of her eye. Albedo just stared, the light burning its pattern into his sight, but he didn’t care. He was slightly too amazed at the fact that his hunch had been correct. “But look what happens when I try to dig deeper.”

Mona enlarged the pattern, the stars coming down to meet them, enveloping them in light from all sides, trapping them in a maze of glitter. It was slightly disorienting, but Albedo kept his eyes trained on the one.

The silver star glowed brighter, and brighter still, until it drowned out the light of the stars surrounding it, almost to the point that Albedo wanted to look away.

Mona glanced at him again, and upon noticing his unblinking gaze, slapped a hand in front of his eyes.

“Don’t stare into it like that, you fool, you’ll damage your eyes!”

“You told me to look,” Albedo said, blinking against the palm of her hand, the light indeed stuck against his vision even in the dark.

“Yes, for a moment! Not stare into it like a madman,” Mona said, withdrawing her hand and trusting him to follow her advice, trailing over to the sofa to take a seat and lean against the armrest dramatically, propping her chin up on her hand. “Oh, what am I going to do with you? The boy falls in love for the first time and suddenly he’s lost all sense of rationality.”

“I’m not-” Albedo began, but his mind immediately drew a blank, “I’m- I wouldn’t call it that, exactly… not already,” is what he settled on, “We’ve only met once.”

“And yet you're already so obvious to the point that it’s cute, Albedo,” Mona said, smiling amusedly at him.

Mona sighed and the stars started to blink out, some simply disappearing, some raining down onto the carpet and taking their last flickering breaths as they lay scattered around Albedo’s feet.

“I’m afraid this is all I can give you,” she said, “a terrible shame, really. I’d rather have liked to dig around a little more.”

“This is enough,” Albedo said, “thank you.”

“Yes, yes, maybe for you it is,” she said, “That star was so bright I couldn’t read more into it if I tried.”

Albedo quirked an eyebrow at her and put a hand on his hip.

“I do hope you’re not in the habit of diving into the details of people’s constellations without their consent?”

“Only when it’s you, dear,” Mona said, shooting him an exaggerated smile with a purposeful squint of her eyes. She sighed again. “Won’t you at least tell me her name?”

The small smile on Albedo’s lips fell at the question.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I don’t know it.”

At that Mona straightened up, surprised.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“She didn’t speak.”

“Not at all?”

“Not at all… also, I forgot to ask,” Albedo admitted.

“Oh dear,” Mona said, shaking her head in both exasperation and disbelief, shooting him a fond look, “whatever will become of you?”

The stairwells of the castle were nothing short of frigid, the cold of night seeping through their stone exteriors and permeating the air around him as if targeting Albedo personally. he had never been the warmest person, in the most literal sense of the word, meaning that he struggled to retain warmth or regain it, even during the summer.

Albedo sighed at the knowledge that he would have a cold bed to return to. He had told Noelle to forgo putting a heated jug under his covers this time as he was supposed to be turned in for an early night, and had thus not counted on having to face the midnight frost. Now, he could barely suppress the shiver that ran through him as he made his way through the hallways on sock-clad feet, the cold forcing its way through the wool as if it wasn’t even there.

He tapped his pen against his lips as his eyes trailed the lines on the page. He knew these hallways by heart, after all.

His notes from earlier that day were much more interesting than the long stretches of moonlight that fell through the high windows, freckled shadows playing on the floor as snowflakes drifted down outside. The light of his lantern was just bright enough to help him read.

Who is she?

Yes, if only he knew. She was certainly strange. Strange like her star had been in his constellation, strange in a way that he couldn’t read her, strange in a way that invited him to try and look closer and see what he could find out. She was unclear and confusing. She was not just anyone, that’s the only thing Albedo knew for sure.

Why didn’t she speak?

He was no closer to an answer on that one either.

How did she have this kind of effect on me?

Well, if he were to believe Master Vulpes and Mona, the answer to that could very well be described as ‘love’, but that word felt much too grand to lay comfortably in his mind as of yet. It was more like a sort of intrigue. A feeling of comfort, maybe? Or a longing to see her again? Yes, that sounded more fitting. A longing. Still, Albedo made the conscious decision to just not put a name to the feeling as long as he hadn’t decided. He had all the time in the world to think it through, after all.

Why did she run away?

Master Gunnhildr’s words seemed to have stuck themselves into his thoughts when he thought about that. It was much too rushed a conclusion, Albedo knew, but her advice had single handedly crossed out his previous hypothesis of its own accord and had made itself at home in the drawer labeled ‘facts’ about the matter. Because what else could it have been? If she truly had somewhere to be, she would have taken her shoes with her, surely. She had seemed surprised, slightly nervous, startled. She had looked as though she had lost control of the situation and then she had run.

His first hypothesis remained untouched, and his second got the addition of the suggestion ‘love?’ written next to it. He followed through with his mind's decision to disregard his third one, and crossed it out, only to be replaced with a short version of his more recent thoughts. It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as proper research should be, but he figured it would be best to get it onto paper while the sentences were still properly formulated in his mind.

Lost control of situation and ran to avoid the possible consequences?

His pen stilled on the paper as a flash of light caught the corner of his eye, through the window.

He stilled in his stride and lowered his notebook to overlook the garden through the glass.

Everything was decked in white, as it had been for weeks now, carefully manicured petals dipping under the weight of the snow. Moonlight shone brightly against the landscape, pointed tree tops draped in it, the curling golden fences reflecting it.

In the shadows of a tree line near the border to Starsnatch hill, stood a figure. Despite the dark, their silver still seemed to catch the light and replicate it, clearly visible as they strolled along the path.

Albedo’s eyes widened and his notebook nearly slipped through his fingers.

It was her.