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Chapter Text

It is no secret that Barbatos is the most beloved out of them all.

He who stands for freedom—it is no wonder why he has the most believers and followers—worshippers—among the Seven who guides and indulges the entire world.

He has the most influence and “power”, it comes with being the favored of not just the people, but also of the Heavens that watches over them all.

That is a fact to be explored, in another time however.

For now, the thing that is of most importance is that he, the God of Wind and Freedom, and the inheritor God of Time, is loved, and very much so. It is known throughout the land, and it would not be changed even if the world as everyone knows it will be forgotten and yet remade by an outlander’s hands. He will remain just so—and his devout followers will never give up their Archon, the God who so graciously granted them their freedom in so many different ways, in the many different and ever-changeable times and timelines that may come.

The Gunnhildrs, the Ragnvindrs, and even those of the Lawrence clan-of-now— all of the people noble or otherwise—will honor the promise to serve and fight for his ideals, for the freedom and dignity he left for them to realize and live by, forevermore so long as they all reside where their families had for as long their city gained their freedom, so long as they arrived in the country he watches over and settles there now under his protection—so long as they are here now in Mondstadt, so long as Barbatos the Archon had welcomed them and claimed them as his own now.

The Hexenzirkel, too, will not forget to whom they owe their allegiance, to which God they owe their friendship—they will honor the blessed God who had welcomed them even if most others would prefer them to lay dead before risking to recreate the chaos that one of their own did—their brilliant, brilliant and tragic Rhinedottir; the golden and the hated, for the crimes she commit—all in the name of her alchemy; the only thing she ever loved—truly.

There are more examples of this—believe me—and so, the point stands; Barbatos as the Archon is beloved and worshipped. No would deny, no one would second-guess it.

And yet—

—it almost does not compare for the love everyone feels for the bard.

Venti, as he is known—and cherished and admired.

Loved by most, even if they do not know who he truly was.

He with his songs, his wondrous voice. His laughter and even his vice. Even with the wine constantly gracing and staining his lips that may cause him to stumble with his words, he effortlessly calms souls and eases worries with his melodious and enchanting songs—all of which contain a story reminding precaution to his listeners, in one way or another.

He is loved and loved and loved—

Even with the ever-present pain and grief he so hides.

He tries, and tries and tries—to be there. to help. to be useful—

—to be even a fraction of what he could’ve been like.

To act as he would; to always, always be just how his friend—the real bard that had long passed, would be like—

He never had a chance, dying just before achieving his wishes and finally becoming the victor; unable to see and hear and feel and live as he deserved—deserved to do so and moreover.

He who had deserved to become the Archon, and not Venti. Never Venti, a mere substitute, a fraud—

“Don’t be foolish now, Bard.” 

Venti opens his eyes and began to rise—surprised that Morax is suddenly as close as he is, all the while glaring at him with disapproval. 

He had decided to visit the neighboring nation, had encounter Mr. Zhongli by ‘chance’—definitely—and not because he seek him out… not because he had sought his company because Morax is the only one left who could understand.

Understand what its like—to bear the terrible, addicting, suffocating power he holds, and the chains of responsibility to wield it as they designed it, so long as he is their chosen Archon.

Even if he disagrees—

—even if he would have hated it—

He escapes to Liyue, because of course he does—whenever there is an opportunity. Whenever he is not so needed in his Mondstadt.

He finds him, looks for him in the crowd, and when he finally does, all he sees is Morax merely looking his way in passing before excusing himself soon enough.

So that he could go and accompany him. So that he could go and drink with Venti. So that he could be there for him, remind him he is not alone and he is not as helpless and powerless as he is.

Zhongli always stays with him, stays until Venti almost forgets what it is that truly worries him—until he forgets it all—what’s to come in the future—what tragedy is to come and his part on it—

Venti is glad that he still has Zhongli with him. So glad that he hadn’t lost him at all—like the friends and companions and even other lovers who leaves one after another, in one way or another. 

‘But the Geo Archon is here. Zhongli is. Morax will always be.’

That thought brings him back—brings him back to where he is currently and what Zhongli said after he had shared the self-destructing things he had been feeling.

And so Barbatos levels the other God with a blank look, so different from the cheerful mask he would always wear in front of others, all of whom are all strangers, in truth.

“He would have done so much better, and yet I am here—an impostor. An elemental being that rose too far,” Venti reaches over to pour more wine on his glass, hesitates—but then decides to pour Morax more liquor too in his cup. “He wouldn’t have let himself become a puppeteer, whose only purpose is to move his puppets along to what his own puppeteers had deemed perfect for the dying world they conquered and stolen and basically left now, letting it die for their sins.” 

“You know better than I how it all would’ve been this way—no matter who it is that sit in our thrones.” Zhongli sips and looks to the direction where the Liyue Harbor would be, miles and miles away from where they are currently. “It is better this way, and you know it. If he hadn’t died there, it is still unlikely that he would be chosen… and if he was, there is no guarantee that they wouldn’t  have killed him when he rebels.”

The Geo Archon’s words ring true and can’t be disputed. It breaks the God of Freedom’s heart, yet it also grounds him back to the reality they live. 

There is no point in dwelling in the what-ifs, and there’ll never be.

They sit in silence after, for a couple of minutes.

Venti breathes in—and exhales gently. The wind in Liyue is not home, obviously, but it is a close thing.

“Thank you… for always being here for me.” Venti says sincerely. 

He can’t imagine living in this world without Zhongli, and he is glad that he won’t ever have to—he never will.

Because Barbatos will die at the end, as he and they had designed it to be. It is perfect in every way and it will come in time, she will make it so—and Venti until then just has to sit-still—and let things happen.

As he had already done so, for the past 500 years.

It is a rebellion his nameless friend would’ve been proud of, truly.

And yet—

—Venti feels immeasurable guilt. Because his death would mean Zhongli would be the only one of the original seven left. His death would mean Zhongli would be alone to witness everything and live in the corrupt-yet-soon-healed world they had all loved and cherished.

The world they will protect and love, always, and for eternity. 

Zhongli turns and looks at him—eyes now filled with equal parts care and love and friendship—for him. For Venti.

And Venti loves him too—so much—

The Seven had been change for so many times, and they are each other’s constants… for thousands of years now.

Once, long long ago, it had been a surprise—feeling this much for a fellow Archon, who had always been a stoic, self-righteous man he more-often-than-not argued with for petty and pettier reasons.

But then everyone leaves, everyone else keeps dying on them—and so it happens. They happen—unexpectedly, yet perfectly.

For how can they not love each other, when everyone else is lost to them, sooner and sooner?

“Hn, you are oddly acting your old age. Being so honest and sentimental…” The Archon of Contracts and War jests, but then reaches over, at last—

“Well, your wiseness rubs off on me sometimes, you stupid, Ancient, old dragon-of-a-man.”

—and Venti comes to him, seeking his embrace and his lips and his arms around him.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms—at peace at last. Finally.

It is as peaceful as they could get, and it is Venti’s only real solace, had been, for the past couple and thousands of years.

Chapter Text

There are always things that clue you in—that Mr.Zhongli from the Wangsheng funeral parlor is far from being just an excellent history consultant, a mere bystander and normal human as he claims to be.

Some might guess him to be a warrior—Adeptus-trained just like the many rising vision-holders that are scattered all throughout the nation.

It would explain his confidence, would explain the absolute control he has for his granted-element.

Some might guess he is an Adeptus himself—one who had chosen to go incognito to watch and protect the harbour as discreetly as possible.

It would explain the remarkable knowledge in Liyue’s culture and traditions and rituals-of-old, would explain the assessing, unique eyes that looks through you—searching instead for your soul and determining what it is made of.

If someone were to guess both things to be the truth, they would not be wrong.

Mr. Zhongli, a consultant and a Geo-vision holder, is indeed much, much more than a common Liyuenian historian and average salaryman of the Funeral parlor.

Mr. Zhongli is indeed an Adeptus, on a league of his own—the Prime Adepti, the  best amongst the illuminated beasts and Gods that watch over the harbor.

Even with that, it is also true that Mr. Zhongli had been trained by a fellow Adepti aswell—though a long, long time has passed since then.

He was taught everything he knew by the most knowledgeable woman he encountered—a fellow Adepti who knew everything little thing of value or otherwise, a most wonderful person who had every enthusiasm and hunger to know even more about the world, and create more than you could ever dare to think of.

He learned everything from her—well, aside from his mastery of his ‘craft’—that is, his war and his brutish nature of combat.

(The truth of the matter is this—

She had taught him all sorts of things, so many different things in the time they had spent together in one mountain or another—always somewhere high in the clouds or hidden in their personal domains, far far away from the humans she loves, the humans he feels nothing at all for—

And then she had suggested they eat by the river with a beautiful body of water.

And then they began to frequent that place; to eat, to sleep, to talk about their dreams and their wants for a promising future—

Soon enough they made that place theirs—a place of their own, a place for them to be together—

It was peaceful, Rex Lapis had wanted nothing else, and wanted no one else but her.

And then soon enough, they were sought out—first by a group of people, then a couple of families; all of which had reluctantly asked them for their help over little or big things. For treatment of injuries, for food. For help to defend themselves from thieves, for help to fix a ruined house or another infrastructure.

She hadn’t minded helping—had enjoyed it, even— and so he let it be, would even help when she called him to—and she always does even if its a little thing she could’ve done on her own.

He would never deny her anything though, so he does it all and smiles when she smiles at him too, eyes happy and shining brighter and brighter.

Things remain more or less the same for a couple of years—Rex Lapis doesn’t really notice—but then little by little, the reluctance of the humans disappears—

When they ask them to be their Gods, when families and families and villages and villages—an entire community of humans, asks them if they would willingly take them as their own, asks if they could take them under their shared guidance and protection… and in return promise to worship them and follow them wherever they go—

She had looked at him with wide eyes then, so shocked and yet so obviously happy at this development—of another thing they could share—

He would never deny her anything—wherever she comes and goes to, he will follow—

and so he accepts.

And so, they accept them.

It is another thing they share, and call “their own”—and so, Rex Lapis finds that he doesn’t mind it much, or at all.

He didn’t know it then, but—

In time, he would be devoted to their protection and their success—would do everything for them to thrive and become successful as she would’ve wanted them.

In time, he will do what he can to honor the wishes she has for their human vassals, all of whom she saw as theirs—

She was his teacher despite their close age. She was his companion and the one who tolerates him and laughs at his insolence about unfamiliar things first, before gently teaching him all that she could and more.

He owed everything to her, for she is the reason that he became who he is—

—and Zhongli had loved her with all his heart and soul, because of it.

How could he not—when she was the one who gave meaning to his life? She who made him want to live and breathe so that he could hold her hand?

How can he not love her, when she is the reason for all his appreciation of everything, she who taught him to see things for what it is and also just appreciate and love it all, equally?

Everything he does, he does with her in mind. 

Everything he will do, he will do so in order to protect those he learns to loves—

—all in the name of his promised love—

just as how she taught him too—once upon a time.

He loves her even now, even if it is close to 3000 years since she had been gone—)

Ah, well, going back—

There is not much else I could say or reveal about Mr. Zhongli—

Except for his true identity.

Rex Lapis.

Morax.

The Geo Archon, the God of Contracts.

The God of History, the Lord of Rock.

The Groundbreaker, and the Warrior God.

There is not much else I could say about Rex Lapis, the Prime Adepti—

And so let us proceed—and find more about Morax—the transcended God of the Lands.

Aside from being the oldest of the Seven, and being recognized to be the strongest for it, the Geo Archon is also known for many other things.

For being the most respected one, the most revered.

The most feared and most intimidating—for those that have reason to be, for those who had broke their promise.

Out of the Seven-of-now, as well as the Seven-before, he is the most praised for keeping everything in order.

For keeping his subjects all safe, shielded and defended, for thousands of years; no matter what war may befall them, whether it be in his lands or his seas.

That had been the case until his “death” and the subsequent taking over of the Qixing and his recognized humans, at least.

His “death” that no one really believes as nothing but a choice of his—a choice he made in order to hand over his role to the Adeptus and Qixing—but they leave it be.

It has been high-time after all, that their God should rest for a few years or so. He has deserved it after doing everything for the people he had cherished and cared for, just as how she would’ve wanted him to—as how she taught him too—long, long ago.

She had loved each and everyone of their subjects—their children as she saw them—and had wished for their and their descendant’s happiness in her dying breath, selfless even in her last moments.

And so Morax had done exactly as she wants; does his best for many centuries to achieve it all, in order to honor her and honor the last promise he had given her.

He does it all and more—because he loves her, with all his heart and soul.

And soon enough, he also learns to love them too—their people. Their children as she saw them once; as he sees them now.

(Morax had smiled when he realizes this truth—because this means she has him exactly where she wanted all long.

He smiles because he fulfilled this unspoken wish of hers, and he will have another thing to tie them together—forevermore) 

No matter what disaster may arise in their country’s harbors, Morax had been there—and always will be there—to secure their protection. If the day may come where they would need him to step up once more, each and every Liyuenian know that their Geo Archon would not let them down, and would never forsaken them for anything in the world.

And so—they love him and worship him and adore him, in return.

Just as their ancestors had promised to them both, thousands of years ago.

It is another promise met and made true.

She would be happy for this, and so he is too.

He is not as loved as the Anemo Archon is, but he is not resented and feared like Beelzebul is, still—after that decree she had implemented and later abolished once she saw reason, once she heard her people’s pleas.

He is loved enough, strikes just enough fear and cautiousness for everyone to  second-guess if they would be willing to risk his anger, his wrath.

It is the balance he wants. To be loved and feared in equal amounts.

No one would dare undermine him like the foolish sages of the Academia did with Buer, and he would never rely so much in his ‘heroes’; his Adeptus and his warriors, like Haborym did—in order to nobly defeat the powerful beings that wishes to destroy her alongside the nation she adores and cherish.

He is respected throughout the world, is recognized for his individual strength that is incomparable to even fellow Archons.

It suits his tastes—the recognition and the firm belief in him—for he is the strongest out of all of the living being, out of all even among his godly peers.

He would never be dismissed and treated as a mere icon as well, like the Fontanians had been to Furina for years—the most human and the most self-sacrificial being to ever be part of the Seven-who-oversees .

Furina is a wonderful girl, and Morax could openly admit that he admires her resilience and her character and faith to her divine other; her Divine counterpart that she had torn out of her body to bring true Justice in the world.

She is one of, if not, the most admirable human he knows, and he respects her.

But she is not a God.

She is not Foçalors.

A living body of a dead god, a dead Archon—that is all she is now, and what she will be; for the rest of her years.

It is a tragic thing, and she deserves so much better after everything, but there is nothing he could do in that matter.

Foçalors had made her choice, and only Furina could bear the consequences of her divine counterpart’s decisions and actions.

It is quite the tragedy when one thinks of it more, as he had thought so when he first heard of what had transpired in the neighboring nation, but then—

Zhongli could recognize one positive thing after everything; and it is that, at the very least, Furina would have Neuvillette by her side, and he would not leave and forget her, would never dismiss her all the sacrifices she made for their beloved nation.

The Geo Archon is sure, that the Hydro Dragon would protect her and do everything in his power to make it up to her, to make her happy and happier—for as long as she would let him, for as long as she would welcome him in her life—

Neuvillette will do it all, do what he can and what she would ask of, because he loves her.

Had loved her even when he was sure she was hiding something from him all along. Will love her for as long as she would let him so.

(Forevermore, if she would let him so)

It is so clear to see. 

The Geo Archon marvels at it. 

This could’ve been their mirror, when they were happy—in the beginning.

Morax would never say so out loud (except to Barbatos perhaps, if he ever asks), but seeing  them together, and witnessing his obvious devotion to her—

they remind him of himself and his lost lover; his partner. His wife in all but name, the other half of his soul, the reason why he is the worshipped Geo Archon as he is now known.

The woman who made him who he was, the woman who had loved him for many, many eras before passing away in his arms. 

The Adeptus called Guizhong, the God of Dust.

The only woman he will ever love. 

His Guizhong, his beloved.

His first love. His greatest love.

The truest love he will ever have.

Seeing Furina with her Hydro Dragon back in Chenyu Vale together; even after everything that could have tore them apart—it all just makes Zhongli wonder if they could’ve been the same, had she not passed away and left him all alone—miserable and broken for so, so long—

He would never be disrespected as Furina once was, yes— but he could also never  have a chance to be with her again.

No matter how so much more powerful he was or how much more stronger he was… he could never bring back Guizhong in his life; could never again embrace her and hold her and be with her in the Guili Plains or somewhere else that she would like.

She will never live again, and he could do nothing else but bear the eternal grief he has because of her absence.

You cannot have everything after all, even if you were a God.

Even if you are the most powerful person in your universe, most powerful in the world you could destroy if you so wants to—with a click of your fingers.

And yet—

He has Venti, still.

Will always have him, never lose him—

It is a comfort he is ever glad to be have, could never live without.

(Barbatos who had been there for him since the beginning. Had seen him at his happiest with her, had seen him lost and at his lowest after he lost her.

He will always have Venti—

The fellow God who had picked him up and tried and tried and tried putting him back together again until he succeeded. The Fellow God who had embraced him and showed him how to love again for a second time—teaching him a different kind of love, making him feel the same-yet-different tenderness, intimacy and warmth, making him feel so much affection and fondness that fills his soul and mend his wretched heart right back—

If not for that frustrating, captivating, wayward Bard, Morax doesn’t know how else he could’ve survived the loss of his life.

He is glad that he has him, will never lose him.

He is content that he could always expect to see him once for every other moonlit evening—assured that he would seek him out when he himself needs his company, needs his touches and caress to ground him and hold him down; to remind him where he really is, who he really was—

—the God of Freedom, Winds and Time; a most powerful being, the only other Archon who still ruled, chosen by Celestia after that war that had killed so many Gods and God-like beings—

and Morax loves him—

—might love him as deep as he had loved her, might be in love with him, even still—

And so, he will protect him—

—would make sure that he will never die.

He will make sure he would never have to lose him—just like he had lost her—once upon time)

Ah, going back—

As for the Tsaritsa… well, there is no readily-made comparison that could be made between the rulers of Cryo and Geo—the stoic Overlords.

They are both feared. They are both revered. 

They are both hated by their enemies, and they have both lost the ones they held most dear.

That is all the people could say about them, at least.

Mr. Zhongli himself—the Best Liyuenian Historian around—if asked, would oddly say the same and stay quiet for a while.

Morax has nothing to say about what he thinks may be similar or dissimilar between himself and Bronya.

The Geo Archon may disapprove of her vassal’s actions and their… methods chosen to achieve what she requires, may disapprove of her callousness in order to succeed in her goals and her plans, may disapprove of her desperate efforts and obvious anger to the Heavenly Principles that endangers them all once they’ve had enough—

And yet, after everything, there is nothing he could say against her.

He understands her, and pities her in equal measure.

A God of Love… with no love left in her…

Venti holds her close in his heart still—even after whatever it is that befell between them half a century ago that caused a rift between their friendship—their relationship—severed it enough that it had driven her away from him, and him from her—

And yet, Venti loves her still—with all his heart as he had done so before. As he always will, it seems.

He has always had this special affection reserved for the Archons of Ice and Love, and Zhongli just could not understand it, at all—after all these years.

Maybe, just maybe, that might be another reason why Zhongli would rather look away from it all, would rather wash his hands off of everything relating to the Lord of Cryo.

He has no interest to dwell on comparisons between them both, has no interest in knowing just how similar yet different they are from each other.

(Venti loves her, and always will—and that shouldn’t be a cause for him to be  so hateful, that shouldn’t be enough for him to loathe her for she had done nothing against him—

and yet—

it is.

it is enough, bizarrely.

He does not like it, does not approve of it.

Dragons don’t like sharing after all, and the Geo Archon has this odd feeling that Barbatos would willingly die for that girl.)

Chapter Text

In the land of the Narukami, centuries pass without change.

It hadn’t always been this way.

500 years ago, before the Electro Archon Baal had suffered so much lost and changed to become someone more deadly and beautifully removed to the citizens she watches over, the people of Inazuma (with the exception perhaps of those in Watatsumi Island) would all talk fondly and appreciatively of their strict yet gracious God; so loving and caring to her people, yet unforgiving and unfeeling to their enemies and those that seek to have them endangered or killed or harmed in whatever form.

500 years ago, the Lord of Lightning had been known for her masterful rule and the nation’s eternal-stability—without a doubt the result of exceptional judgement that results to a thriving shogunate, a thriving dynasty and thriving country. 

The Electro Archon was praised, and beloved. 

But now—

—After the lost of so many after the calamity, after the following almost complete-lost of two islands; Seirai and Tatarasuna, after the lost of so many clans and even the Raiden Gokaden—

The God of Eternity is still praised, and even more respected and feared—for her control and immense power, for her unwavering commitment to her nation. For the noble, unshaken ideals she embodies for her people to follow and revere—

And yet. She is not beloved.

Not like she was, had been, for the other half of the millennia.

You can hear the people whisper sometimes—

She had changed so much, and yet not at all.

Everything is so different, yet when you look more—they are exactly where they were. 

Unmoved, untouched. 

—Stagnant—

Eternal, just as how Beelzebul wants it so.

(She does not care for the people’s love and blind-worship, not at all. 

The praying—the believing and all the worshipping—it could never bring Makoto back, alive at her side; no matter how much power she could’ve gained had the citizen been more devout, had they had more faith—

It hardly matters. 

It doesn’t matter—

—no matter how much more stronger she could get, it will never be enough to change the past and bring her sister back to life. Alive, and by her side, like she should’ve been, like she should have—)

All the Raiden Shogun wants is to ensure that Inazuma will live forever, nothing more. 

That is her only duty, that is her only concern.

(She has no use for love, for it will not bring back her sister.)

Ei had been around since the beginning—had participated in that War of Gods and fought in her sister’s stead—

—but when it is over, Ei had willingly decided to give way and give up her body, so that Makoto could rise and transcended and became the God of Transience, Eternity, and Lightning.

It was her sister that became chosen; recognized by Celestia and made as one of the Seven who will rule and oversee the world, tasked to make sure that their heavenly principles are heeded and recognized as law—never to be broken, never to be crossed.

Never to be betrayed, never to be usurped.

After it was over, Makoto brings her back—and then they decide what role Ei would play and how they would rule their conquered land.

That was then that she officially became Makoto’s shadow, her kagemusha; her sword and her protector, as well as all of Inazuma.

A warrior and enforcer of Makoto’s decrees, the eliminator of those who’d oppose the way her sister leads.

A powerful being of pure Thunder and Lightning, an Archon in her own right she could’ve been—

but it is Makoto who is Archon, not her. 

She is but the shadow ruler; a counterpart, a body double.

Some might say it is unfair, some might say she had earned it more—

but Ei is content where she was, happier to be hidden and far from the constant light—Archonhood does not suit her and being the ruling god for eons is not something could ever see herself in.

It is perfect for Makoto however, and soon enough she takes to her new role so much faster than their friends and the other yōkai would thought her capable of.

The title becomes her, and she becomes it as well—and more; she blooms and she glows and suddenly the bitter powerful yōkai stop their whispers.

Makoto becomes the most perfect embodiment of her element, and Ei couldn’t be prouder. 

After some weeks of adjusting, a letter comes from the land across the sea— 

Makoto is invited in the abode of the Geo Lord, along with the other members of the Seven, the other Archons. It is a curious invite, an obvious curtsy of diplomacy and a transparent extension of friendship.

The sisters had thought it curiouser still, because the letter, while sealed with the Geo symbol, was penned and signed by none other than the God of Winds.

Curious indeed.

Makoto insists that Ei come along with her, but she refuses—stubborn and determined to remain and guard Inazuma while her sister— the Archon—is gone.

They argue over it, with Makoto lecturing her about her importance, and how they are co-rulers.

Ei does not cower. 

Makoto only relents to go alone and leave to Liyue when Ei promises to come with her next time, should this meeting not be a one time offer of friendship and a one-time meeting of the Divine.

Ei sighs—lamenting that she can never truly say no to Makoto—and the pink kitsune whose head lies in her lap covers up a sound that is almost like a snort of laughter.

When Makoto comes home after a few days, she greets them and their friends with a smile somehow brighter than it has ever been.

It is the happiest she had seen of her twin—and so Ei is all the more glad for it.

At lunch, they all listen attentively as Makoto shares stories upon stories about the other Gods who are the most powerful and holds the most authority and control, the other Gods who had become her closest friends and closest comrades in the short time since their divine group was formed and had began to learn of each other.

Ei meets them the next time, and Makoto introduces her immediately as her co-ruler, an Archon in her own right—in all but name. 

‘She is Beelzebul, my sister, but for now we are both Baal.’

‘A day may come yet when you are granted your deserved title as well, Beelzebul. You are always welcome to join us.’

‘Hm~ I think I’d call you both by your names—Makoto and Ei—if you would let me? So there’s no confusion about who’s the Baal I’m referring to! Though I agree with the blockhead, Beelzebul, the day would come where you would need not hide away—and you and Makoto can both be the archons of your nation! Recognized and loved both!’

Ei had a good time in her stay in the Adeptus mountains, and it would not be the last time she would accompany Makoto to the “Archon meetings” which she now knows as code for “Archon festivities and tea-parties”. 

She had a good time with them all—they were all the welcoming and kind sort of people, just like Makoto—and so her unspoken worries had dissipated once more.

She sees how happy they made Makoto after every time they welcome them to Inazuma for their visits, sees it in the joyful grin her sister wears after spending a few days or weeks away to visit the other Archon’s nations in return, though they still frequently chose to stay in Liyue the most. Ei listens and listens as her sister excitedly recites whatever curious thing it is the Lord of Dendro had shown her this time (Rukkhadevata is ever the curious one indeed), what kinds of tea Egeria made her to try in this visit—

—what pranks Xbalanque and Barbatos did to piss off the God of Contracts, and made the Tsar laugh hard enough that he froze the table when he had accidentally hit it because he was laughing too hard—

Some years past, then a few decades and a few centuries and a millennia—some changes in the Seven are made, but Makoto remains close with most of the older Archons; even though there are fewer and fewer meetings, more and more invitations returning unanswered from the other nations because most of the newer Archons chose not to bother with it.

It makes Makoto sad, so Ei places the pink kitsune, her familiar, in Makoto’s hands—trying to bring even the tiniest comfort she could for her sister who still grieves the lost life of her friends, the Archons who had perished or chose to step down from their seat.

Makoto shares vague and vaguer stories of the Bard-Archon, though—about the God of Wind, Freedom, and Time; the heir of a God called Istaroth—so it seems that Makoto retains the strong friendship she has with the Anemo Archon, still.

Ei cannot know everything about the meetings of the divine, but she knows enough to understand that Makoto sees them almost like family now, that even if some had come and gone and died, the Archons remain a tight-knit group of powerful gods all living up to their ideals to make their nations thrive.

It is the same for their home, after Ei and Makoto lose Sasayuri and Chiyo to tragedy—one after another.

They mourn them and Ei relentlessly avenges them—but there is nothing more she could do.

There is nothing more that Makoto could do too, even with her power. Even with her divinity.

And so they persevere, continue to do their duty.

Ei learns to live without their friends, just like Makoto learns to bear the ache of those she lost of the Seven.

Ei wishes for Eternity then, she can’t imagine that either of them could bear more loss and deaths before exploding.

Even still—the Archon and her shadow do their duty and fulfill their roles—glad to have each other still even after all the friends they lost.

Ei holds on to Makoto more and more, and her sister lets her and holds her tighter in return.

It stays just so—until everything changed just 2100 years after they won the Archon war and became joint-rulers of the land of thunder.

It stays just so—until Khaenri’ah began their attacks to the surface world, to the seven different nations that the Heavenly Principles governs.

One by one, she loses all those she loves—again.

One by one, her friends and beloved people has died, again.

When Ei arrives at their home after battle and after losing Saiguu—the only dearest friend they share—she feels a level of exhaustion she has never felt. 

She searches for her sister to inform her of the passing of her familiar and closest friend, but then—

Ei reads the letter. 

Her heart stops. 

She runs—

By the end of the Cataclysm, it is only her and Miko that are alive.

She does not know what exactly happened in the land of Khaenri’ah—the battle had been on the verge of ending when she arrived; just in time to witness her dying sister become soaked of her own blood—

Ei does not know what exactly happened, and she does not know if she’ll ever have the courage to find out—

What she saw had scared enough.

Scared enough to fear the wrath of Celestia, to lose more than she had already lost—

and she cannot bear to lose anymore—

Even more so, Ei cannot bear the thought of losing the nation her sister loves with all that she has—and more.

When she comes home, she is swallowed by immense grief that could not be overcame. She loves her sister, loves her friends… and now she had lost all but Miko after the cataclysm.

After the grief, came the paranoia—the extension of the fears— 

Beelzebul began to fear that erosion may get her soon, that she would fail to protect the nation her sister loved and wished to protect and want to gently guide til the end— 

And so, Beelzebul made up her mind; she cannot fail to protect Inazuma just like how she failed to keep her twin alive. 

And so she plans—

She loses sleep over and over, researching and researching and researching for a solution that would work—something had to—

and then it came to her. 

A puppet, a puppet programmed to stay the same forevermore. 

A puppet who would never change, a puppet to stagnate it all—to preserve the nation she adores. 

A puppet of her creation to make sure that Inazuma will never change, never become too ambitious, to become greedy. To make sure that Inazuma will never be corrupted, never to become wrapped around the notion of high glory—to be perceived as a threats, usurpers, by the Highest Authority of the World, the principles of the universe.

So she makes a puppet—tries to make a perfect replacement—

The first one she created was a boy, a boy who is not her exact copy yet resembles her enough to be her clear mimic—a son, her son, in all technicality. 

Her nephew—a boy that has her eyes somehow—

Beelzebul absentmindedly hands him the gnosis—but was soon alerted of an unexpected action of her puppet.

He cries.

And so Ei had thought—he will not do.

He is gentle like her—he deserves better—

I cannot make him go through the pain of ruling and losing… possibly dying before he could find himself, truly, and what his true purpose is—

She has no use for him anymore—and Yae, who had been worrying for her more and more, grows paranoid that the puppet may yet cause more hurt and loss—

She advices her to kill him, but Ei can’t bring herself to destroy him.

She doesn’t not love him—does not know if she should just because she created him—

—but he has Makoto’s eyes—

In the end, she leaves him-discards him.

She does not feel guilty or remorseful over their unceremonious parting.

It is the better for him, her child.

He will be happier far away from her—at least that was she thought at the time. 

That was her excuse to run, to eliminate the risk that she may hurt her heart once more, if she were to truly become his mother.

It is her first selfish act as God—

it would not be her last.

Love for the Electro Archon is her sister, their friends. Their nation. She does not care to be loved back—it is of no interest to her.

All she wants is to make sure that Inazuma will remain just so—forever alive and well, forever under her protection and authority and control.

Unchanged, eternal—for centuries and centuries to come. 

In order to achieve what she wants, she would have to “die”, again.

Yae pleads for her to see reason—argues and tells her that she does not have to die, that she doesn’t need to leave them all to realize her ideals— 

Yae tells her this isn’t what Makoto would’ve wanted for you!—and Ei agrees with her.

Beelzebul listens to her familiar, holds her and embraces her for as long as she can—until Miko calms enough— 

But she had decided to follow suit with her plans, and Yae Miko—bitter and helpless—can only hide her tears and hold on to Ei tightly. 

This might be the last time she will hold her, this may be the last time she will ever be with her—

When Ei feels her tense up again, she adjusts her hold of her so she could move her hair and wipe her tears.

They stare at each other for a moment—until the Kitsune reaches over and kisses her God, the embodiment of lightning.

This might be the last time they could hold each other, and embrace and be together—

Ei closes her eyes, savors Miko’s sweet taste. 

She lets her familiar guide her towards her bed, tries to comfort her with her passion.

She feels guilty for leaving Yae alone—her familiar, her only friend; the only love she has left.

Ei knows she shouldn’t leave her, owes it to her to love her forever and never cause her hurt— 

and yet this is the only solution—

And Makoto’s people comes first.

Their protection and lives all lie in her hands now, so she has to do what she has. 

She will not fail, and they will not be corrupted.

All of them will be eternal, like how Makoto would’ve wanted.

In the land of the Narukami…

… centuries pass without change.

When she awakens once more after 400 years of isolation—

It is to fight the dangerous traveler without vision.

Later again, she awakens once more—and it is when Lumine along side Miko finally changed her mind about what her ideal eternity would be like.

 After 500 years—

Ei cries.

Later again, Raiden Ei cries, once more—and she does so when she talks to the last remnants of her sister’s consciousness—unbelievable preserved by the power of Istaroth—

it will be the last time that she would hear her voice.

Ei feels her heart break to a thousand of pieces, once more.

Even though it had never healed at all—since she lost and lost and lost almost all that ever matters.

She cries and grieves, but she is not alone—

Miko holds her tight and tighter, and Ei understands that she doesn’t deserve her. 

Miko never leaves her though, tells her she will never let them part ever again—doesn’t want to ever be alone, once more—

Ei cannot runaway again—cannot isolate herself and abandon Yae, abandon Makoto and her own vassals—

Her sister’s children—

She will learn to love them now, as her own—she needs to, in order for this new eternity to work.

She will learn to love them now, just as how Baal would have wanted, had probably wanted since before Ei had decided to sacrifice her physical body to give Makoto one of the thrones of Celestia.

She will love them, and see them as hers—her children—-

One afternoon, while strolling outside the Tenshukaku with General Kujou, she sees a mother and child eating dango and holding each other’s hand at one of the stalls.

Raiden Ei is suddenly reminded of her first creation—her son, the kabukimono—

She wonders if she had made another mistake—when she chose to leave him on his own; unguided and lost—

Just like she had been, when she lost Baal; half a millennia ago.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful goddess beloved by her people—

She was respected and gladly worshipped by her vassals; even more so by her sages of wisdom—all of whom identify as the most loyal and devout of her followers, all because she possesses the gentlest nature yet the sharpest mind that they know of and hold so much respect for.

Possesses the sharpest that there will be, as they believe so.

The goddess’s name was Rukkhadevata, referred to as the Greater Lord. She is the God of Wisdom and Lord of Dendro and is also the avatar of the Irminsul.

She was once part of the Three-God-Kings that ruled Sumeru peacefully even when the Archon War was raging everywhere else—causing the reshaping (destruction) of the continent all the while; because of all the fighting and killing of powerful beings all throughout the land.

(An example: Mondstadt hadn’t always been so flat and green and bare—so peaceful and calming and so renowned for its gentlest winds and tranquil atmosphere—

It was a... depressing nation to live in, in truth—

—that is until the ascended Barbatos reshaped it all and threw the parts he didn’t like far, far away—into the corners of the world where nobody could go unless they got sent there too, by the Archon—the Lord of the Skies.

Barbatos claims to be the weakest of the Seven—just so you remember. It might be important soon; you never know.

How would I know?)

Going back to our tale—

Rukkhadevata, along with the Scarlet King and the Goddess of Flowers, used to govern the desert and lead them to prosperity, to a glorious future.

(Another “fun” fact as we go along:

Sumeru hadn’t always been a desert, did you know? It was once, in all its entirety, a vast land of pure greenery; it was miles and miles of lush green woodland; had been a massive forest once—a haven of botanical life—

—that is so, until Celestia had destroyed it all by sending down one of its Divine nails from their skies, that is so until they set down their Nail near the land where the Dendro Dragon Apep slumbers on.

Which then resulted in the immediate change of the area around the ancient being’s abode and soon enough affecting even the Dendro Dragon themselves, which led to the transformation of their natural state to match its new habitat and environment.

Soon enough the forest was gone, as well as all of the nation’s plants and flowers and fertile lands—

Soon enough, everything is changed and made into nothing but miles and miles and miles of barren sand.

As we go along with this, are you finally being afraid of them?

No need to answer, just something you might want to take note of

—as we continue on with our journey, as we get to know about their chosen Lords.)

The Greater Lord’s life before Archonhood is of no true importance—well, at least that was what the sages would say—

After all, in the early parts of the War for the Divine seats, it was said that King Deshret had been offered to keep the gnosis and become a Lord of his chosen element—had been offered the Archonhood even during its war’s early stages—

And yet King Deshret refused it, refused them, without first consulting his friends, his co-rulers—his family in ways that matters to them three.

Deshret was incredibly wise—as were the other two Gods of Wisdom—and yet he was also too proud and too ambitious; had decided immediately that he did not need to be granted power when he could very much accomplish everything on his own.

No, he thought—he could gain everything and more—more and more knowledge even without the help of others and granted to him by “higher” beings.

(Celestia turns their gaze away from Sumeru then—no longer interested after the obvious greed they witnessed from one of the so-called Wise Kings of the vast sand—and nothing else.

They focus all their eyes instead—to a nation that is being transformed and remade by an heir of the shades-turned wisp-turned human-turned God all over again—

They focus their gaze to the chosen New God of Mondstadt, the newly ascended Barbatos—God of the Winds and Freedom and Time.)

After the other two God of Wisdoms were informed of what transpired between one of them and the highest power of the lands—Deshret’s lover, the Goddess of flowers, immediately warned him of the risks of his plans and how it might lead to their demise—

And yet when he remains unmoved, the Goddess decided to follow him regardless  of the risk and the obvious tragedy awaiting him; awaiting them—as they continue to press forward on this path that is dangerous and could kill them at once.

(She follows him still because he has her heart, and she has his, even if their ideals may clash and be quite contradicting—

She loves him, so she will follow—and she would hold his hand even if it is their death march that he leads them on.)

Rukkhadevata, on the other hand, their dearest friend and the one who had always balanced them out, decided to peacefully leave and take her exit this time—tearful she might’ve been, yes—but her sadness for parting with her long-time friends does not discourage her from following the steps she thinks will lead to only the best outcomes for them and herself.

And so she walks and creates a new, different path for her, and she prays that the next time she sees them, it will be when they finally marry and are finally binded together—and forevermore.

Rukkhadevata goes on her chosen path, soon claims the barren desert at the far east of their once-shared kingdom.

She looks around, plans, and then proceeds to do as she had decided to, creates a solution out of a problem never been solved by any other being.

Rukkhadevata transforms her lands and remakes it into the rainforest it once was, into the rainforest it is still as of now, using a contraption she had created in order to provide the land with enough water and hydration, to revitalize it and return it to the land it was once.

Soon enough, her lands became alive once again—and her people, those that chosen to follow her and leave her friends, began to cry and rejoice for the "miracle" she had given them.

The Heavenly Principles take note of this, pays closer attention again to Sumeru and especially to her people's immediate worship and offerings—

Soon enough the vacant seat of the Dendro Throne is hers.

She is crowned Lord of Dendro, God of Wisdom, and their overseer—she is made the very image of every knowledge in the world—the persona herself of the Irminsul. 

It is the position most fitting for her, she soon finds, as she ascends into Archonhood and meets new friends in the form of the other ones chosen—her fellow Seven; all of whom bestow their compassion readily and welcome her the moment she arrives on top of the mountains of the Ancient Geo Dragon, which has been protecting his nation for almost 4000 years.

Rukkhadevata begins to thrive in her role, taking in her new role like fish in water—like a flower that immediately thrives and blossoms even if the soil she had been planted on is unfamiliar, foreign to her.

She does not forget her truest friends, however, so she comes back for them as soon as she can—confident that she could convince them that being Archon is not so bad and that they can surely co-rule again like they had in the past millennia.

But then she finds out that King Deshret had discovered something unlike anything their world has ever seen—a forbidden knowledge that does not belong to the surface of the world they live in.

It enables him to have access to technology so far beyond them—enabled him to have the power no other would ever possess in this world except for him, the Scarlet King—

He makes a kingdom, a kingdom that thrived so exponentially—so greatly—

It will be the most glorious civilization ever seen. If things continue just like this for at least a few decades, Deshret is sure he will become the greatest king and god there’ll ever be—

However, he later finds out it has consequences far worse than he could’ve maneuvered and manipulated—he finds out soon that he was not dealing with something he could outsmart and soon bend to follow his own judgment.

Nabu Malikata, on the other hand, the Goddess of Flowers and Deshret’s co-ruler and only love, had dreamt of a civilization in the future that would succumb to greed and ambition just like her love; she had dreamt of people with stars in their eyes using the similar forbidden knowledge and power as they would—

She dreams that it resulted in them falling and their once-glorious kingdom fading into forgotten memory—

She dreams of millions of deaths of humans and a curse being bestowed to thousands who survived it all—

all of which are punishments given by the Heavenly Bodies.

The Goddess of Flowers and Dreams understands what she sees for what it is. So before Rukkha had decided to follow a different path, Malikata had given her friend a part of her—to aid and prevent the calamity in the future—a similar end to the looming fall of her and her lover.

(She does not tell Rukkhadevata of this and all that she dreams.

She is glad that her friend will survive—will live and be happy, even after they are gone.

And isn't it just the purest, most foolish, kind of romantic love? )

When Rukkhadevata had found them, though—

The Goddess of Flowers had already died, had died because she chose to follow Deshret in his chosen path despite warning him that it would lead to his destruction and the corruption of all the legacy he stands for.

Deshret, soon after holding Nabu Malikata’s lifeless body in his arms, since watching her as she had breathed her last—

The Scarlet King had become crazed with guilt and sadness and immeasurable loathing for himself—

He had turned to using more and more of this forbidden knowledge to try and bring back his lost lover, the woman he loves, and would never let go of when he has her again—

He can bring her back. He can. he can—

In the end, Rukkhadevata does her best to help her grieving friend Deshret, even though she is grieving as well for the loss of her best friend, her almost-sister, her co-ruler for the longest time before becoming an Archon.

In the end, Deshret realizes the futileness of everything—and so he sacrifices himself to make up for what he did. 

In truth, however, he only gladly welcomes death because it would mean he would be reunited with her, finally.

(And isn't that just the greatest kind of love—don't you agree?)

In the end, the Greater Lord had buried both of her closest friends as the consequences of the Archon War end as well— 

In the end, Deshret's death is not enough—so she had to use all that she has to give life again where it had been sucked dry and poisoned by the power that does not belong in their world—it should’ve never been used and shouldn’t exist at all in their world’s precious memory.

She is reduced to a form for a small child, after—but she succeeds enough that they may call it a complete victory for now.

She takes in all the people that are now godless after losing the one king they had known—

They cry for him, mourn him.

But they don't resent her.

Rukkhadevata mourns for Deshret and Nabu Malikata, both—the two people she had loved the most. 

When she and the rest of her priests and soldiers arrived at the city, all of her people welcomed her happily and proudly—they threw flowers at her feet and shouted, “God of Wisdom! God of Wisdom!” repeatedly. Rukkhadevata could only stare at the vibrant-colored flowers that would wilt before the evening.

She then walks on, looking blankly ahead, silent and merely thinking—

‘It hurts, knowing that that title only refers to me—and to us three, the Three-God-Kings, like it had used to mean.

It hurts that I am without them; they should've been here—’

Her people notice the sudden shift. 

Some civilians stopped their shouting, but only because they grew afraid that they were disturbing their god with the noise. They fear that they might’ve accidentally interfered with their God as she was thinking of thoughts reserved only for the most wise, their leader.

Some civilians stopped their throwing their flowers, but only because they grew anxious that their beloved God had disliked the flowers they chose to offer to her in their rush to celebrate and welcome her.

The sages notice her nonchalance as well, and yet they mistake it for a lack of care for her perished adversary.

(I told you earlier—did I not? The Sages... the people... all of them. They do not care for the truth of what happened:

They only seek to see what they want—and that is a God that fits the standards they have, a God that they can call the greatest, so they can proclaim that they are the followers and servants closest to the Divine and the Heavens.

Rukkhadevata is beloved, yes, but she had never been seen—

She is quite the opposite yet mirror of her successor, isn’t she?)

Later, when she meets with her sages, Rukkhadevata bears with their endless compliments.

They praise her for her benevolence and right calls—they criticize the Scarlet King and the choices he made that led to the desert kingdom’s destruction.

She endures all this, focusing on her duties and trying to regain the power and body she had lost—

It continues on for years and years and years and would continue on for even more centuries.

As time passes, she misses more and more of the Archon meetings as well—but she can't bring herself to go, afraid that being there and being happy will make her forget.

Happiness is not something she deserves—she had essentially killed her friends herself when she left them on their own, her friends who deserved to rule with her but now lie in eternal slumber.

She knows it is wrong to think so, but she can't help the helplessness that envelops her.

She knows it is not right, but she does not loathe this new isolation.

And so Rukkhadevata focuses on making her nation of Wisdom thrive and become glorious—almost like how he would've made it had he been here too.

And so Rukkhadevata creates festivals and recognizes artists and their crafts—commissioning murals and dances to honor her sister—she would've loved all these had she gotten the chance to witness it first-hand.

Soon enough, Sumeru thrives, and it becomes the haven of knowledge and wisdom; their once shared ideals.

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful goddess beloved by her people—

After a while, and after a loss she never thought to have to live with, the goddess began to doubt... each and every little thing—

Is this real love? Real worship?

Is being their chosen worth losing those that truly did?

(Its not, my darling.

But it will get better, I promise.)

There is a “Greater Lord,” so naturally, there is a “lesser”.

If Rukkhadevata was beloved but misunderstood, Kusanali was never even considered.

They all hate her, after all.

Instead of finding their immortal god reborn, even if shrunken once more—after another terrible war that once again threatened to destroy the world as they know it—the sages had found the seed that soon became her.

They held out hope that it was just a small mistake and that she would grow and have the same exact knowledge their Great Lord Buer had possessed—

but it is not so. 

They have lost their Great and Beloved God in the aftermath of the calamity and are now supposed to be governed by a sapling, a mere child—

They cannot accept it.

The Sages—ever prideful, proud, and conceited—do something that has never been done since the Seven had been sat on their Divine Thrones and their authority became feared and recognized.

They tell the world their young, new Archon is merely resting—isolating herself to learn more and more just as her predecessor had been.

No one doubted this story—after all, Rukkhadevata had been exactly like that for over 2100 years.

No one thought that they—the loyal and most devout followers of the Dendro Archon—may have been hiding something far more sinister.

People all over the world were none the wiser—had no idea that mere mortals would dare to do what the Sages had decided on.

—to imprison their God—out of some misled loyalty for their previous (dead) one—

No one knew—

so no one had come to her aid and rescue—

Once upon a time, there was a young girl—a god—

She was trapped in a tower, and she could not go out and meet the people she was supposed to love—

She waits and waits and waits—but no one would come.

For 500 years, the Lesser Lord Kusanali had been confined—trapped in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, since the moment she had been found.

Hidden by the very people who was supposed to worship her and love her as their nation's God.

For 500 years—she was trapped and alone and none would come release her from the cage her sages captors made specifically to hide her away from the world.

For 500 years, the new Archon hears their thoughts, and how she is no match for their real Archon—the one they love, the Archon they worship—their sun and stars—while Nahida is a mere moon, a God that does not shine; a poor replacement to the sun who had given them their light and their guidance for over two millennias.

For 500 years—Kusanali hears these thoughts over and over and over again.

For 500 years, Nahida ponders over it, over and over and over—

Is that love, is that real worship?

Something tells her that no, it isn't.

But if it really wasn't that, why is she here?

Why is she being punished?

Soon enough, the Aranaras—the truest follower of the Dendro Archon's ideals and will—informs her of a traveler from the stars who had come to see her and ask her questions only the God of Wisdom could answer.

Nahida keeps her Divine eyes on her—Lumine—and she gets the feeling that she will help her have the freedom she'd always yearned for for as long as she had been living—

A lot happens.

She feels a stab of pain in her heart when they all found out that the Academia's Sages had conspired with the Fatui to create a false god to replace her once everything is in "order", at last—

But alas, with the help of the traveler and the precious group of her people—Nahida's... hers hers hers—who had come to her rescue.

They defeat it—together—defeated the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom created by The Doctor and piloted by the Electro Archon's Eldest creation.

And so—

Finally, she is free. 

Finally, she can see Sumeru as she had always wanted to.

Finally, she can be the God that she was destined to be.

They enter the Greator Lord's consciousness, they enter Irminsul—

She meets Rukkhadevata—her mother, the Goddess who had created her and had wished only for her survival, for her to live the very best life she would want for her own as her heir, the next in line—

Nahida cries as she is held by her mother.

She cries because she will lose her.

Nahida finds out the truth of things, and then forgets it all after a single blink.

The world forgets of the Greater Lord, the Goddess who had been "loved" for so many centuries.

Nahida would forget, that she was loved first by her mother, a now forgotten Goddess.

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful goddess who had a child that took after her image...—

—there lived goddess like that...?

No, that isn't right.

There has only been Lord Kusanali. There was no other God in their nation.

She was loved and worshipped since before the Archon War, but then she lost it all—her knowledge and power—when she shrunk 500 years ago.

That is all there is to it.

That is all the information the Irminsul holds from now on.

Some time passes, and Nahida becomes loved "once more."

This time, she knows that it is real—and she is finally worshipped and beloved and seen.

Nahida rules justly and fairly. 

She takes care of her nation, her people. 

She adopts an abandoned God and a lost soul—

Nahida takes the Wanderer under her guidance and protection, like a mother would to her child, a son she should love and care for—

He reminds her of herself so much; he who had been discarded for his weakness and taken advantage of by those who had taken him under their wings and promised him a place where he can be who he was—

Nahida witnesses as he breaks free from it all, watches as he discovers his true purpose—

She was there when he was recognized by a power higher than hers, watches as he was gifted an Anemo vision—a new heart that he had yearned for for so very long—

She sees herself in him, and so she can't help but be so proud and happy—

Buer does not know and understand what familial love is completely, another thing she had forgotten or lost, maybe; but he somehow reminds her of people she might have long forgotten of—maybe a family that once was, maybe it was the two friends who had passed away long ago but co-ruled with her in the beginning of her story, thousands and thousands of years into the past—

And with this now, she slowly began to understand another thing she had originally had no idea of.

Love for her is her people, her nation. Love for her is to protect and guide those who are in need of her power.

Love for her is her family; love for her is to dream and live with her children and be there for those that she holds in her heart and cherishes. 

Love is simple.

Love is what she feels for those that she has chosen, whom all chose her as well. 

Chapter Text

Furina had always been the Lady Furina— the ever-flamboyant and confident Archon of Fontaine, and not much else.

She was neither hated nor loved too much, some might even dare say that tolerated was all she was—but that would be too cruel to say outright, and would not be exactly correct. 

As it was, the Lady Furina had always been loved by her people, her vassals. They love her for her charisma, her wit, as well as her elegance—

but that is all that they love. 

To put it simply, she was loved and adored very much, but not as God.

No one really worships her, no one really sees her as the divine Archon worthy of their reverence and adoration—

The people's view and opinion of their supposed dearest guardian depend mostly on whether they view their Lady's most recent judgement as dramatically good, or dramatically not.

She was viewed either positively or negatively depending on her latest dramatic judgement, and that was that.

So you can say, she was loved by the Fontainians more for her persona—her artistry—and not as Archon, not as a deity to worship and fear.

She was loved, yes, but none truly see her as a gracious god that perfectly represents pure and divine Justice and Judgement, as was traditionally expected of a nation’s Archon, the nation’s worshipped idol. 

But if you ever ask the people of it, you'll find that none really care and worry about that matter, and what it may mean for them and for their nation.

They like their Lady, their very own star, and so they like how unconventional she was even with enacting and pursuing her Divine ideals, if she ever even does.

Besides, they have the Iudex for the serious matters—they can count on him to temper her, the divine Archon, and to stop her from spiraling too much if it really came to bringing the proper justice the current case calls for.

There is also the Oratrice of course, the divine machine excellently created by their Archon the Lady Furina to make all the correct judgement and to make the right calls for her.

And with the divine machinery, and the ever reliable and honorable Chief Justice, the people are content to wash their hands clean.

Justice was their God’s ideals yes, and some might whisper that it is quite odd to leave everything to your inferior but well, everything works out fine with the Iudex's carefulness. In this way too, they are ensured that he and the Oratrice would prevent any misstep their beloved Archon might succumb to.

If you ask the people of Fontaine, the audience of this eternal theatrical justice of their Archon, majority would tell you to not worry and leave it be to the higher powers—

It is perfectly the way most of Fontaine want it to be, and so let them have the Lady Furina and all her eccentricities as it had always been, let them have the spectacle she never fails to give—

Oh, about that prophecy?

Well, all men must die anyway, so all the more reason to be entertained while they're all alive, living.

Before the current Hydro Archon Focalors ascended to her divine seat 500 years ago, their was only one other icon that the nation of Fontaine has known.

The pioneer Goddess of the nation and the Beloved God of Justice—the Lady Egeria of Fontaine, also known as the "Noble Navigator," the "Ruler of Rivers and Seas." 

The creator of all the laws to be strictly followed in her entire nation, the maker of the Fortress of Meropide, a castle-prison where the guilty shall forever be, if they so chose to—and chose to guard the secret she had hidden underneath.

Lady Egeria they called her, the Queen of All Waters, the Queen of Oceanids.

No one really talks about her now, and no one truly remembers how she was—but then it really isn't important… for now.

After all, they never really knew who she was, aside from being an Archon who had loved them all for almost thirty centuries that she had represented Celestia.

They do not know of the pre-ascended Egeria, and the true power she had—

She, who was made by life, created to replace the sovereign—as heart of the sea-primordial.

She who loved, but was punished for "committing" the sin of life. Punished with imprisonment, but yet again placed once more as Fontaine's deity, holder of the gnosis after the God-King Remus has fallen to the abyss—succumbed to his own prophecy of death and destruction of his legacy and everything he held dear.

All they know was the simple, easy things about the Lady Egeria who was crowned Hydro Archon by Celestia as the War for its other Thrones wage everywhere at once.

Egeria was a fascinating God, a rebel in truth and someone they had misconstrue—but for know, what's important and what you should know is that she was the one who was given the prophecy; the prophecy which foretold of the extinction her people, her dearest creations.

Her beloved children, in truth.

Focalors, an Oceanid turned Human, had been her familiar and the one Egeria had chosen to replace her shall she perish in a war of some kind, or in some tragedy they may not be able to prevent on time.

She who had chosen Focalors to bear the sin unpardonable in her place, she who had passed her love for her children to her heir—so that she may seek to protect them and to let them exist as the humans they were—aside from the kind of blood that flows through their veins.

And soon enough it happens.

500 years ago, Egeria does perish right at the beginning of the cataclysm. 

500 years ago, Egeria draws her last breath… and so her play begins—

500 years ago, Egeria dies—smiling.

Focalors would do well, and she knows it.

Focalors had—essentially—just lost her mother, and is now suddenly sat on the throne that should still be hers.

She should be devastated, should be grieving for the death of her creator, the death of their Archon.

But alas—Egeria had chosen to leave her quite the conundrum.

Tasked to save Fontaine, her beloved nation…

Tasked to save all the Fontainian… all of whom are Focalors’ own siblings, her brothers and sisters…

She should be devastated, she should be lost—

But Focalors found herself smiling—this is such an amusing place to be stuck on, after all.

After all, she knows the truth of the matter—so she knows she cannot let Egeria down, that is never an option.

As one of her eldest and her chosen successor, there is no room for failure, no room for any error of any sort. 

Focalors smiles despite herself, because Egeria may be far from a perfect God and perfect family to her children, but she knows how to spark defiance like no one else. 

To defy Celestia and their authority… 

To destroy the Hydro Throne that they had given her without choice, without alternative just so she could be the Hydro Archon who may watch her nation die and succumb to their prophesied peril…

Focalors smiles, because she inherited her mother’s defiance, and her drive.

Focalors smiles, because she knows she loves her siblings enough—to sacrifice her life.

Focalors, the newest Archon, smiles—and she knows she had form a plan, as soon as she can.

She tears herself into two and separates her divinity from her human body. 

"Focalors" remains but a spirit, not anymore a physical being. 

She names her humanity Furina—goddess of springs—a subtle nod to who she was supposed to be, to always be one with her divinity, if not for their treachery, their betrayal of the Heavenly. 

"Focalors" curses her human self to live so long as they are Archon of the Heavenly beings, forbidding her also to pursue what she—what they—had always wanted when they became Human and began to live in their planet's surface. 

She curses her to live and play her part for the good of everyone—their brothers and sisters, their family—

And she never tells her more, only ever tells her the barest thing she needs to move along. 

One must fool themselves to fool their Masters after all, and Focalors knew this was the only way for her plan to work.

She feels sorry for Furina, for herself that is as Human as she could've ever been—but they will not let down Egeria, they cannot allow for things to follow exactly to the Heavenly Principles wants, yet again—

(Especially not after all they did to them; the innocent men, women, and children of the newest civilization they'd let to fall to their benefit, those of the star-eyed people who are now turned monsters against their will—)

As God of Justice, they cannot let the Heavenly Principles do as they've been doing—creating wars upon wars just so they could redesign the world again, "accordingly".

As God of Justice, the Fontanians lives is the existence of her justice, and so their continuity would be her and Furina’s responsibility.

They will not fail, Focalors knows it.

They will not fail, but she knows it will take its toll, especially on Furina—humanity in its purest form.

They will not fail, but this will hurt and damage them both for so long, for what they must “perform”—

Foçalors shrugs it off—a God is not afraid of anything, and from now on what was she, if not for Divinity in its purest form?

And so she separates her divinity and her human body, then places her divine spirit to the device of her making.

And so Focalors stays there for 5 centuries, stays there and weighs in what justice really is, what it should be.

She remains just so for 5 centuries, only finding amusement to the Iudex and her humanity’s bickering, as well as their slow-developing friendship and mutual understanding.

When her world is so quiet, too quiet and empty and yet too loud with its nothingness, Focalors even wonders—what could’ve been, if she get to chance to be a regular Diety, a conventional God—

She wonders if she could’ve ever hope to capture his heart, like her humanity had unknowingly done. 

Ah, it seems like curiosity and inquisitiveness to fascinating things and development is indeed a Godly trait, indeed.

And so she watches on, and on and on and on, to see this wonderful, marvelous love forming right in front of her.

Furina is clueless of it, because of course she will be—Focalors might be too, if she hadn't seen it in the outside; the only place she could witness it.

Oh, and she knows Neuvillette had not recognize it as well—unfamiliar with the concept of love he still was, even after centuries of living amongst humans, living as their symbol of Justice and as someone so admirable, so beloved.

And so, when the nights are too quiet and there is no brutal case to make her think if humans did deserve their sacrifices and for them to go through with everything, Focalors the Divine finds herself wondering when her human self and her Iudex will come to realize their love.

She founds herself wondering even, of how come she was so sure that it was what she think it was?

She has never fallen herself after all—

Ah.

So that may be the answer to her thoughts.

She knows that it is indeed love, because she feels it too for the Dragon-incarnation.

It is not uncommon after all, for a god to seek comfort to another god; to seek solace in the only other beings who can understand the pain of living and living and living and watching helplessly as everything you seek to protect is destroyed by the ones you had vowed to protect for all your very long life.

And who is Neuvillette of course, other than the most deserving and the rightful ruler of this very nation that he serves?

Who is Neuvillette, other than the one destined to free her and Furina of this long-suffering life they were made to endure for their people?

Who is he, if not the perfect counterpart for her humanity and divinity both?

It is a very novel thing, to fall in love even if you are on the outside, never truly seen by the one your heart admires.

Furina has fallen too, but she doesn’t know it because she is human and cant see for herself the way she looks at him and just how her heart beats quicken when he comes nearer and nearer still.

They have loved him, both her divinity and her humanity, and truly, what a laughable thing it is.

They seek to return the power as heart of the Primordial Seas to him, the rightful heart as the Sovereign—and yet he had stolen their heart in return, without even knowing it and understanding what he did. 

This is all the more amusing, a tragedy that Focalors cant help but appreciate for its fascinating story for all that played even the most minor role in this perfect theatric, twisted comedy and tragedy mix. 

And well, if dying before loving him as she wants was her karma for hurting and hurting her Furina—

then so be it.

It is only fitting, after all, that once she is gone Furina can truly be free to do what ever she wants, and to get what she deserves—

She would deserve his love, and Focalors knows she does not, not at all.

Furina had always been “Lady Furina”, and not much else.

She knows she’s not loved and worshipped, and she doesn’t really need to be. Being "loved" and "revered" as she was now doesn't mean anything, truly.

For she was merely playing her part in this story, merely acting how she should until they find a way to avoid the prophecy.

But well, knowing all those facts does not stop Furina from wanting it—for craving to be seen and loved for who she truly is.

She supposed this is what makes her human, this greed—as intense as it was, and almost all-consuming.

Furina had wanted love—pure, and true love—she was unlike any other Archon in that regard.

From her spies all around the world, she knew that the Anemo Archon had never needed to ask for anyones love and adoration; the people of his nation had freely given it all to him, after all—even if they have not physically seen his divine form for years and years; there being only reported glimpses of Lord Barbatos for every other festival they held for him.

He was always, always felt in Mondstadt, however—always felt through his winds and in every Cecilia flower that so perfectly reflects his true heart yet unbound soul—so maybe that helps him keep their love and their utter devotion.

The Geo Archon is loved and respected and feared for so so long now, but Furina knows he had been Liyue's Prime guardian even before the Archon War.

For over 6000 years, he was their worshipped god; so indeed he had all the time and experience to earn all of the Liyuenian's unchanging loyalty, as well as their complete love and trust for him.

Beelzebul doesn’t care about that—her people's love. She had long ago accepted that the God the people of Inazuma had loved was her sister Makoto, the real Baal—so there is no point.

Furina thinks, sadly, that they are alike in that regard. After all, the current Shogun doesn’t have it in her to care enough about something so trivial in her eyes—lost and preoccupied as she was with grief and anger since her most beloved twin sister had died.

Beelzebul reminds Furina of her other self—the real Archon, the real Focalors—and her ever hidden grief for their creator, the previous Archon.

Furina doesn't care much for Egeria, having no memory of being alive before she had passed—and she wonders if it was that and her greed that really separates her and Focalors from each other, even if they should've been reflections of one true person.

Well, it is useless to thing more about that, love isn't something she can have now or ever until they save everyone—and so it just another thing for Furina to give up and try to forget ever wanting—just like the dreams she'd given up all for the lives and safety of her other children.

For 500 years, Fontaine remains as it was since the God Focalors and the Lady Furina ruled the nation.

For centuries both the Iudex and the Lady Furina take their respective seats in their respective thrones in the Opera Epiclese, both watching over and hearing the pleas of those below. 

Furina asks the questions, and Neuvillette asks more. Soon enough, the Oratrice makes its judgement known, and the crowd cheers as the guilty is sentenced to stay in the Fortress of Meropide for however long they deserve.

The guilty might die as well, but it has been years since the Oratrice had declared life must be paid for the guilty’s mortal sin.

And so for 500 years, Fontaine remains as it was designed by their Archon with "just" ideals—

but then its culture and arts are even more enriched with the Lady Furina's ever-present enthusiasm for all things dramatic and sensational.

For 500 years, Fontaine remains as it was—but now with even more and more development in the fields of engineering and mecha, all thanks to the Fontaine Research Institute and the abundance of the Indemnitium harvested from each and every trial and subsequent judgement that had come to pass.

Fontaine remains as it was, thriving and flourishing and developing more and more until its rich nobles are amongst the most wealthy in the world—

But then those below remain as poor as they were—losing and losing more until seemingly the rest of Fontaine forgets them, too lost in the splendor of the life at court.

In that 500 years that Fontaine remains almost stuck in its pursue of opulence and lux, all the while corruption blossoms more and more where its rulers have not reached and seen to judge.

For 500 years, Furina plays and plays her assigned role—getting more tired and tired and tired as the years wore out her human soul. Monsieur Neuvillette all the while falls more and more, but he doesn’t understand what it is he feels and instead realizes that Furina is not the Archon she had claimed to be since she had chosen him to stand by her.

For 500 years, Focalors only watched—waiting and waiting for the time where she could finally reveal her plan and that the Hydro Throne would be destroyed along with her divine soul.

For 500 years, Fontaine succumbs and succumbs to the hidden corruption within the nation’s very core—all the people losing more and more care for the ideals they should follow.

Fontaine remains a helpless cause, until the traveler-not-from-this-world comes along and shakes up the shallow life they had lived for so long.

It isn’t until Lumine questions what had been left to go on and on, that the problems need to be stopped are finally discovered and solved, once and for all.

They find out about the serial killer, and about his lover who had died so long ago.

They found about why he does the killings, why he does what he’s done that provided fear and speculation to the people since the two decades since he began his heinous acts in the name of justice for his long-dead darling.

They find out that Navia’s father had died for nothing—was unjustly killed for the crime he did not commit.

The nation learned then that their leaders might be fooled and tricked, just like they all were by someone they had once respected and believed in.

The rain doesn’t stop, and the children playing out in the rain begs for the dragon to please stop crying.

Sooner, more and more lies are unmasked—

The nation finds out the Lady Furina is not the Archon they thought her to be, finds out that she is human just like all of them were.

A human who had no divine right to rule over them and judge them—exactly as she had for 500 years.

All decide that she should pay for her deceit, for fooling them all and for all the years they believed and gave her their “worship”.

The verdict comes suddenly from the Oratrice, the very machine that Lady Furina claimed to have made herself with her godly hands—

and it is the first time in years that it calls for the death of the guilty, in this case the death of the “beloved” Furina—

Everyone panics—all agreeing that calling for her head was too much; for she had not even explained why she had done it, hadn’t even moved to try and plead for her human life—

Time stops then for everyone as the ground shakes and almost all but our heroes stumble and fall to where they once stood and shouted their demands of justice and proper judgement they had been denied.

And then they were soon preoccupied by the whale that suddenly appeared—which was then quickly followed and fought surprisingly by the 11th harbinger—the one the people did not know to be missing but should be imprisoned below their seas nonetheless.

So many things happen at once, and before they know it heavy rain never seen before begins while the portal the whale came from floods and floods and floods until the entire nation is submerged.

Soon people realize that it is the flood that was destined to have dissolve them all, the flood from the primordial sea that finally overflowed after millennias of awaiting where it will occur, when it will extinct a whole entire race of those living in the nation governed by the Hydro Archon.

And yet none die of dissolving, none die like the prophecy had foretold all of them would be.

The people would never know, that they were only ever alive because she had asked him to forgive them all for the sin that used his inherited power.

None would notice until later, the bloodshot eyes of their Iudex—eyes clearly tear-stained and almost grieving.

None would talk of it until later, but witnesses would admit seeing their Lady Furina crying and crying by the court’s fountain once the waters had receded.

(The people would only gossip about this when the news of their Lady stepping down from her duties at court with no further explanation.)

None of the people would ever found out about their true Archon Focalors, who had died her craved death after waiting and waiting and waiting inside the Oratrice she had meticulously prepared to destroy her and her throne when the right time had come.

None but the traveler, her “friend” Paimon, and the other Archons would ever know the truth of what happened before, during, and after the destined flood.

None but those few and Celestia, the Heavenly Principles themselves, will be made aware that the power and absolute-control of the element of the ocean and seas have been returned to its rightful sovereign.

None of the people will ever know, so they soon enough began to live their life as they had always had the luxury too, and now more.

Furina doesn’t really understand what love is. All she did was her duty after all, and what had been expected of her by her Archon, her divine other and the part of herself that is now forever lost.

Furina doesn't understand it, but when she had said so to Neuvillette she was gently reprimanded. 

She tells him it is not its existence that she doubts, after all she 's seen it in every action and in every one of "their people" who had lived and soon died.

Their people—Neuvillette's, and as he insists, hers as well—Furina's—

—but not Focalors... at least, not anymore.

She thinks her Iudex is the only one aside from herself that is somehow grieving the God they have never truly met—dearest Focalors; the divinity she lost and the one she had followed until the end of her godhood, the end of her existence as Archon of the Hydro Throne.

Furina had lived for so long, and yet she finds herself so, so lost without her divine voice—the voice who should’ve always been one with her—here to guide her and be strong for her as someone almost like an older sister—even if they were the same person before being split like they had to be for most of their life, for the life they had no choice but to live for their maker.

Furina grieves her for she herself is the other half of her, and Neuvillette seems to do so too—because he was moved by what she did to essentially trick him and save their nation.

She had made him love their nation, and each and every one of its people. 

And maybe, Furina thinks, this is exactly why truly understanding and truly comprehending the love they feel is so difficult for her.

Isn't it her duty? Isn't it just something she should accomplish?

For Neuvillette, it must be easier—Focalors had obviously loved him and watched him and trusted him enough that she was sure that he will forgive them all for the sins of their existence.

Focalors had obviously loved him, for why else would she have been willing to risk everything they had worked for—if she even have the most minor doubt that he could turn his back against her and Furina both?

She had blindedly trusted him, told him everything and spent her finally moments with him—

Neuvillette obviously loves her in return, because of this.

She doesn't understand love truly, but she knows she feels it too—

After all, why else is she so self-effacing, thinking that he only loves her now because the other her that he'd loved is forever lost—and could never be, forevermore? 

(How could she be sure, that it is her he sees for herself—and not just a replacement of some sort for her who is gone forever?

And if that were true, how could they love each other so much—but not her?)

She tries to forget this new insecurity, this new thing she doesn't understand but somehow bothers her even when she is held by him constantly come evening—

Furina shrugs it off as best she could, after all Neuvillette has always been honest with her—had always tried his best to support her and see her for who she truly was, even underneath the lies she had worn to deceive him and the people they both love now.

She must go on and love this life that was finally given to her, to live and to cherish every moment— even if a part of herself longs to have Focalors in here too, with her and Neuvillette; all three of them holding on and finding the solace and peace in each others arms exactly how Furina had once imagined her life to be—once they solved the problem that separates all three guardians of justice—

Furina grieves for her, but soon enough she began to recover, and to rediscover who she had always wanted to be—they both wanted to be—just like they had originally wanted when they were first made exactly like the human they do not remember envying, but once did.

Furina doesn’t understand what love is, and doesn’t truly completely comprehend what it is she wants to do now for however long her mortal life would held out—

But she is human who loves and is loved, and so she has faith that soon enough, she will figure it out.