Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Unknown to all, the day it happened started a countdown.

The “Hydro Archon”, neither a god nor a facsimile thereof, confessed to the Traveler—confided in him—everything she had locked away deep inside her heart. Hers was an unbelievably heavy and painful burden and she’d borne it for so long. Who knew for how much longer she would have to endure it? … And so, at the last minute, only moments before she would have lost her chance and be put on trial, she told him everything. From beginning to end, Furina had told Aether the truth behind her act and her lies, and the heartbreaking burden that begot them.

Neither she nor anyone else had known it at the time, but that act had been the ultimate error.

No sooner than she had finished speaking, before Aether, the hero of every nation he’d trod upon the land of could respond, a great rumble shook the Opera Epiclese and blessed, accursed water rushed in, flooding every chamber and crevice. All in the building—in Fontaine—dissolved, transfigured into their true forms as Oceanids. All except for four.

The first was Furina herself, carried from the room, crying and clawing, scrambling and screaming to be released.

The second was Neuvillette who held her tightly in his arms as he fled. “They’re gone, Furina…” he told her, voice soft and message cold, like the winter’s first snow. Her screams soon turned to wailing and her resistance to submission. Silently, he held her and let her clutch and keen against his chest.

The last two were Aether and Paimon. Aether held his companion securely to his chest, shielding her when the force of the deluge slammed him against a wall. If it had not been for his great strength and Focalors’ blessing granting them breath beneath the water, neither would have survived. But they had . Once they’d managed to make their way out, they surfaced. They could hear the sound of birds cawing in the sky above. They could hear the lapping of the waves against the edges of rooftops.

They heard Furina shriek.

If Aether had to describe the sound, he wouldn’t have used flowery language to do so, no purple prose. He had no want or need for such metaphors. To use such words to describe what he heard would be a disservice to the raw emotion behind it. So no, none of that. If he had to describe that sound to someone, absolutely had to without any choice in the matter, he simply would have described it as something he fervently wished he had never heard at all.

The very next day, something unusual had happened.

Word had quickly spread from those who had fled the heart of Snezhnaya that the Tsaritsa was dead and that a gargantuan nail had pierced Zapolyarny Palace. Within hours, every Harbinger had likewise followed; every hour on the hour, like clockwork. Every Fatuus beneath them soon followed, en masse. Civilians who’d witnessed the demise of members of the Fatui refused to speak when asked what they saw. They shook their heads and trembled in fear.

Only one dared to break their silence: An elderly man from Mondstat.

“It was like nothing I’d ever seen…” he said quietly, gaze distant and his mind even more so. Before he could recount what he’d borne witness to, he’d begun to claw at his own throat, desperately reaching for something no one could see, something that by all accounts shouldn’t have been there and he convulsed and choked, strangled by something unseen until he ceased to move.

Once word had spread about the event, it was decided that silencing their curiosity was an act of mercy.

The day after that, Aether left Paimon in Neuvillette’s care, unwilling to take her with him, unable to come up with any better ideas, and unsure of if he had done the right thing. As he had reached Sumeru’s side of the border between it and Fontaine, he declared an impassioned challenge to the heavens. After all, the nail that had murdered Snezhnaya and so many of its people could only have come from Celestia. It was still too early for him to head to that land, still much too soon… but what choice did he have?

… And then he died.

Abrupt and violent. No one had witnessed it, and yet all alive in the world, both great and small, human and not, became aware of it in that moment and a long silence mutually experienced by the populace followed. There was a knowing, an understanding, that the Traveler would never again be seen. That tragedy became known as The Great Smiting. Things had changed, inexplicably, irrevocably changed in a way no one could really explain, but there was no need to explain something that everyone felt.

The tragedies that had befallen the world at that time one after another had eventually faded into the background, not here, but not gone. Those who were around remembered, and those who had been born since never learned of any of it.

Just like that, for the next few decades, life in Teyvat went on.

Not as normal, but it went on.

Chapter Text

Ei remembers laying to fall asleep in Miko’s arms. It’s the last thing she remembers before finding herself where she does. She looks left, right, and then left again.

To her left is a cluster of trees.

To her right, Yae Miko, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Ei mirrors her expression as though to say, “I know about as much as you do.”

To her left is a small white bird with pale green-tipped wings.

She blinks; to her left is a void.

She blinks; to her left is a pathway.

“Buer…” she mumbles under her breath.

“Up to her old tricks, then?”

“...”

Miko saunters up to Ei’s side, clawed fingertips idly dancing upon the Archon’s shoulder as she does. “Goodness, she could even give a kitsune a run for their money,” she comments, making certain to add, “They would have to be a bumbling fool of a kitsune not worth their weight in kitsune udon, but my point stands well, I think.”

Prideful as always.

“I prefer to think of myself as… holding myself to a certain standard,” she then says.

“...”

“A high standard.”

“No, wait. You…” Ei adopts a thoughtful posture. “You heard that?”

“Indeed I did, my dear. You worry yourself too much with the details,” Miko says. “We’re in one of the God of Wisdom’s miraculous not-a-dream dreams. It only makes sense that things wouldn’t make sense.”

Ei sighs and makes her way along the path. “You’re right: The details don’t matter,” she agrees. Miko assumes the form of a five-tailed fox—larger than average, fur luxurious and varying tints of pink—and bounds after her lover.

“Then what does matter?”

“Whatever Buer wants us here for, of course.”

Miko shakes her head in that way that dogs often do, though she’d be loath to ever be compared to one, and her earrings softly jingle with the motion. “No, no, no. Not what I meant,” she insists. “What matters most in life, do you think?”

“The pursuit of eternity.”

“Oh, this again…”

“Did you expect a different answer?”

“No,” Miko admits. “But I was hoping you would prove me wrong.”

Ei frowns. “Don’t misunderstand me,” she sighs. “The eternity I now seek is not one of unchanging stasis.”

“What is it of, then?”

The goddess stops in her tracks, her familiar’s question giving her pause. She takes several long moments to consider her answer.

“... I don’t know,” she eventually answers truthfully, “And I hope I never find out.” Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot; she continues.

An unsatisfied sort of whine sounds in Mikos’ throat. “A very you answer,” she flatly remarks, following close behind once more.

With a pout and a tilt of her head, Ei asks, “Is that such a bad thing?”

“When it comes to you, sometimes I don’t know. But it’s just like you to either run from your problems… or throw caution to the wind and confront them in the most idiotic way possible.”

“Such harsh words…” she sighs.

“I say them only because I care.”

Now she rolls her eyes. “You’re harsh like this on everyone you come across.”

A flick of the fox woman’s ear and she feigns offense. “And here I thought you knew me better than this.”

Likewise, the Archon feigns indignance. “I do.”

The two lock gazes for a time and understanding passes between them. Ei reaches down to scratch behind Miko’s ear and Miko nuzzles sweetly— so sweetly—into her palm. Alas, the moment could not last. They had been brought here with a purpose and they can feel it urging them forward into a clearing at the end of that long, long path.

… When they continue forward, they see that in view are numerous faces—most familiar, some entirely new… and a small selection entirely missing. Before she could think on it for very long, however, the small but wise beyond her years Nahida approaches the pair. “Thank you for coming,” she greets with a small, but sad smile. “... Mmm… No, that’s not quite right, is it?” she considers, continuing, turning her back on them and pacing back to her original spot on a large mossy stone. Lifting herself to its level on steps of Dendro energy itself, she twirls back around to face them again and plops down onto that stone. “Maybe it would be more appropriate to say… that I’m sorry. There was no better way to gather us all together without causing alarm.”

Ei’s brows furrow. “Alarm…?”

“The situation is… most dire,” Zhongli informs the two newcomers, voice carrying the strain of a weight Ei has never thought she would hear in the voice of who had once been known as the God of Contracts. “Buer and I discussed the matter at length and concluded that every nation’s Archons collectively leaving their respective lands would raise suspicion in the populace. Having the conversation this way was best.”

Venti shrugs as Dvalin in a more human-looking form watches him pluck idly at the strings of his lyre, tuning it, perhaps, although Ei gets the distinct impression he’s doing it to keep his hands busy more than anything else. “”Dire” really doesn’t even begin to do justice for this most unjust matter,” he mutters, half to himself and with a lackadaisy unbefitting of such ominous words.

A small woman decked in blue silently flinches at his words; Ei doesn’t recognize her, nor the significantly taller man who appears to be her companion.

“The Tsaritsa…” Nahida begins to explain, answering unspoken questions. “... is gone. Deceased. We’ve known this for quite some time now.”

Miko’s attention is on that tall man by the unfamiliar woman’s side, a certain hostility about her demeanor if the way her coat fluffs up is anything to go by.

The God of Wisdom continues.

“Murata,” she says. “Did not answer my dream summons. She seems to be unable to,” She crosses her arms and sighs the kind of sigh one does when they find something to be a mild inconvenience. ”We have reason to believe that she too is deceased, or soon to be, more accurately.”

The thought that perhaps the God of War had decided to challenge Celestia—and lost—is not one that surprises Ei. Archons come and go and gods are created and die, but the likely loss of Murata is pitiable all the same.

“And what of Focalors?” the Electro Archon presses.

“She isn’t here either.”

“Has she also…?”

“No,” Nahida tells her. “She is… alive, but not well.”

“Does she sit weeping on her throne?” Miko finally chimes in, all bite and no tact.

That tall man presses his lips into a thin line. “In fact, she does ,” he mutters.

“Ah, Neuvillette. I thought I recognized that solemn face,” she says evenly, with just a bit too much familiarity.

“You know him, Miko?”

Miko reassumes her humanoid guise. “Well, yes,” she says. “Sort of. Then again, it’s difficult not to recognize one of the Seven Sovereigns. Though… I can see that you don’t, dear. Honestly, this is exactly why you need to be more aware of Teyvat’s various goings-on-”

“As was previously stated, the situation is dire beyond direness,” Neuvillette interrupts before Ei can express her surprise, his countenance the very reflection of impatience and yet also restraint and his tone firm. “Do we plan to actually touch upon the relevant topic anytime in the near future, or will we simply stand here and wait silently for annihilation to come?”

… Annihilation…?

Maybe that’s why the conversation’s been delayed for as long as it had. No… There’s no maybe about it, Ei thinks. Annihilation… Complete erasure … Such an unbelievable thing. Such a cruel thing, it’s no wonder no one wanted to speak of it.

“Eheh… Guess we couldn’t just put it off forever, huh?” Venti shrugs again, summoning a flask which Zhongli then wastes no time in gently prying from his fingers and shakes his head. They briefly exchange looks and expressions, but not so much as a syllable of a word before Venti relents. Ei is all too familiar with having such a deep, intimate knowing of another… and she can only think that in some ways, Zhongli has far more patience for the Anemo Archon than she ever could.

“Right,” Nahida agrees. “We should get to the point, shouldn’t we?”

She doesn’t wait for a response: “This woman here…” Her eyes fall upon the one clad in blue. “Her name is Furina. She is…” She presses the tip of her index finger to her chin in deep thought, looking upwards at the illusion of a sky.

“It is… complicated,” Neuvillette admits. “She is both Focalors and not… Or perhaps it would be better to say that she is an aspect of Focalors’ being; separate and yet not.”

“Right!” Nahida exclaims as though having a revelation. “It’s like a slice of cake. Each slice is separate, and yet they are all undeniably a part of a whole dessert. Furina is a slice of Focalors cake!”

“And what does… Furina, was it? What does she have to do with this supposed incoming annihilation?” Miko urges, skeptical.

Nahida’s expression changes. There’s a grimness there now that feels wrong to see on such a young-looking face. “Some years ago, the prophecy threatening Fontaine came to pass,” she reminds the group. “And Furina was unwittingly the cause of its fulfillment.”

Miko sighs and her lips curve downward slightly. “Yes, yes, we all know that already. I doubt any of us need a history lesson on something that happened so recently.”

“No,” the little god tells the kitsune, “you don’t understand.”

“Then tell us,” the kitsune suggests as though it was the most obvious solution in the world. “What, praytell, does any of that have to do with whatever or whoever is going to be annihilated?”

“Focalors had a plan in motion intended to circumvent the prophecy that would ultimately doom Fontaine and Furina had what was possibly the biggest part to play in the performance. It would be no exaggeration to say that she was the lead actress and the star of the show!”

“... I couldn’t find it in myself to keep trusting her…” Furina finally speaks, fists clenched and head down—unable to face the others. Unreal blood drips from her bottom lip as she bites down into it. “And now everyone has to pay the ultimate price for my… stupid, stupid mistake!”

“... Wait,” Ei utters softly, an anxious, nearly pleading look in her eyes. “Wait, I don’t understand. What are you… trying to say…?”

Venti remains silent.

So does Zhongli.

Nahida hesitates.

And so does Neuvillette.

Furina too.

Dvalin remains silent, as he has been; he shuts his eyes.

After a while that could have been seconds, hours, or months, Nahida finally gives the last two to join the group the information they’ve been summoned to this placeless place to hear: “I sensed something horribly wrong, like Ley Lines themselves were crying out in fear… and so I took a look within Irminsul…” she begins, talking in much the same way one might take tentative steps into a dangerous and unfamiliar land. “The… To say that the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles is furious would be a terrible understatement. When she discovered Focalors’ treachery, she made the decision to snuff out any further resistance against her and against Celestia… and more recently, she’s decided to completely wipe out Teyvat and start all over again. Everyone and everything, down to the world itself will… be erased.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?!” Furina cries out. “ I caused this, I-I should be the one to fix it. There is some way to fix this, isn’t there…?”

“There isn’t.”

Despite the pitying way she says it, there’s a cold finality about how Nahida says those two words: There isn’t.

“So…” Furina’s fists clench tighter. “That’s it? We’re just supposed to let this happen …?!”

Miko chimes in again, a condescending bitterness seeping into her tone: “If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them. I’m all ears.”

“...”

“Hmm? Well?”

The fight slowly leaves the Archon aspect, like blood from an awful wound and her voice meekens.

“Th- But there has to be something I can do-”

“I think you’ve done enough .”

An unsettling quiet falls over the group. After some time, when that quiet becomes too much to bear with the sound of the most important question of all begging not to remain unasked, Ei takes it upon herself to be its envoy.

With dry lips and an even drier throat, she tries to swallow saliva, but swallows nothingness instead.

With great hesitance, she then conquers her fear and asks: “... How much time do we have left…? Do we know?”

Nahida falls entirely silent and looks away, up at that false dream sky again.

“Buer, please .”

Keeping her eyes on the stars that dot the firmament, she answers, the others waiting on her with bated breath. “About two hundred years. No more than that.”

…

It was all a dream.

… None of it was a dream.

Oh, how Ei wishes it had been a dream, a simple nightmare. A nightmare could be ignored, or at least forgotten in time… But the things she came to know during her slumber? Those things she could never forget.

Keep the people happy. Don’t let them know the day of reckoning will be coming in a matter of mortal lifetimes. I think… Yes. I think it’s the most merciful thing we can do for them. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss… or at least something close to it.

Right…

This will be the last time we all meet like this. Everything’s been said that needed saying. And so… goodbye, everyone. Whatever becomes of our souls… I wish us all the best.

Keep them happy, keep them ignorant. That’s what Nahida had said. Even still… the knowledge they’ve all been cursed with will haunt Ei to her dying day, this she knows. It is with that curse locked away deep within her heart that she exchanges glances with Miko once more. There’s something different now about how they stare into one another’s eyes; it scares them, frightens them. And it is with the desperate desire to create something, anything , that maybe has the hopeless hope of persisting even after Teyvat’s end that she surrenders into the warmth of the other woman’s arms.

And they make love.