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baeshijima · 29 days ago

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— bewitched

as the apprentice of none other than the founder of the hexenzirkel, alice, you are all too familiar with expecting the wildly unusual to be the norm. explosions which can destroy an entire city? you can handle. appearing on the other side of teyvat within a blink for some sight-seeing? you can handle. getting ganged up on by old hags and the anemo archon for your non-existent love life with a man you just met? um... what?

CONTAINS : fem!reader (no gender pronouns are used, but honestly just being a part of the hexenzirkel is indication enough when they are all. well. a faction of female witches.), 2k wc, fluff, love at first sight (varka), once again on my puppy/loser in love varka agenda, venti gets a kick out of it, the witches get a kick out of it, you are not getting a kick out of it

A/N : i swear on my life this was actually supposed to be two paragraphs long. like the concept of a fic. but now it is a fic. i hate it here. (also i'm so punny for that title i know hahaha.)

Your mentor informs you there will be a meeting soon with Barbatos and the current Grand Master of Mondstadt's Knights of Favonius. You don't think much of it — why would you when this clearly seems like some important business to be taken care of? Not to mention the fact you're positive such diplomacy has nothing to do with you. In fact, you've already planned how you'll be spending your newfound free time in your head!

At least, that was until you're faced with your ever so chipper mentor beaming at you with the watt of a thousand suns, her words, “Now, won't you be a dear and fetch our guests for us?” being the first and last thing you hear before your surroundings are warped.

Next thing you know, through bleary eyes and a disgruntled mind, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. There's smoke in your lungs from Alice's questionable choice of a theatrical entrance, tickling the back of your throat and forcing a slew of coughs to be released. Really, you ought to have a word with your mentor about springing something as disorienting as teleportation on you with barely a word of warning. Not everything has to be flashy and come as a surprise—

“Oh? I didn't think you would be the one to come meet us!” Barbatos' familiar voice breaks your thoughts, and you're forced to realise that no, you're not alone, and yes, you did have an audience watching your embarrassing flounder. An audience of two, that is.

You recognise Barbatos, of course, and greet him with a nod. You've met him a handful of occasions, courtesy of Alice stringing you along for occasional meet-ups. Though you're willing to bet she just wanted an excuse to show you off in the new outfits she'd made for you on those occasions to someone other than the few available Hexenzirkel members. Regardless, he’s not all that bad of choice company during the times he strums his lyre and hums a song for you, melting away the stress which tends to build up when dealing with your eccentric mentor. (His love for alcohol is something you can handle in comparison.)

The second person isn’t someone you’re entirely familiar with, though you can deduce he must be the renowned Grand Master bold enough to seek an audience with the Hexenzirkel. Messy blond hair feathering across his forehead and falling atop his shoulders, eyes which rival the clearest of skies, and a build expected for someone of his calibre, you can say with full confidence he definitely is younger than you were expecting, what with the stories you’ve heard of his feats and his accomplishments. (Maybe all the teasing looks and pronounced smile Alice always wore when bringing him up to you was just her hinting he was closer to your age than you’d guessed?)

You offer him an acknowledging nod; he merely stares at you, gaping. Tilting your head to the side, you observe with a raised brow as he continues to stare at you, unmoving. Actually, has he even blinked? Turning to the Archon, you deadpan at his mischievous expression mirroring that of your mentor. At least he seems to be getting a kick out of the situation.

Well, whatever. All three of you have somewhere to be, and you are more than ready to leave post-haste.

With that in mind, you step towards them. An incantation is spilled from your lips with familiarity, glowing triangular patterns emerging beneath the three of you as the spell reaches its completion. Then, within a blink, your bodies are transported out of the office and into a meeting room where the present Hexenzirkel await.

Before making your way to the side (because for some reason Alice insists on you being present, the other witches also more willing for your presence than you’d like), you give a swift bow to the two you’ve teleported. Even with your back turned as you walk, the sensation akin to a pair of eyes following you remains. By the time you find a suitable spot away from the meeting of some all-too powerful people, you lean back against one of the pillars and wait for the meeting to be over.

You have to give it him, that Varka. He certainly has a way with words, even managing to charm the witches with his easy-going personality and boisterous laugh. You wouldn’t have thought it from you initial meeting, what with how still and awkward he appeared, though maybe your sudden appearance just shocked him to the point of being rendered speechless?

Regardless, you can see why he is such an important figurehead. His conditions are made clear, points thorough yet straight to the point, and he can easily navigate negotiations which juggle multiple demands. Most importantly, you can tell he cares deeply for Mondstadt and its people, to the point of setting up this Tripartite Conference to ensure Mondstadt’s safety in their time of need. Fortunately for him, such displays of love for humanity is something Alice is a total sucker for, and his fair terms and conditions seem more than enough for Nicole and Barbeloth’s thoughts.

The conclusion comes as you expected the moment he spoke his first words: the Hexenzirkel agree to help Mondstadt in their time of need. Really, someone who has such a way with words to the point of swaying even the most stubborn of witches you know is a feat in and of itself. He could probably talk his way out of the most perilous of fights with just a meagre wag of his tongue! Actually, how many incidents has he already talked his way out of by now?

You don’t get to dwell on the matter for much longer when Alice suddenly calls you over. Despite your foreboding skepticism at her twinkling eyes and eager mannerisms, you merely sigh before making your way to her side. They’ve already stood up from their seats, gathered together in a loose group as they (read: Alice, Barbatos, and Varka) chat amongst themselves.

“I’m sure you have already met from earlier, but this is my darling apprentice!”

Hands settled atop your shoulders, you’re thrust forward into Varka’s direct line of sight. You barely have time to form something close to a proper sentence, let alone think. So here you are, sputtering as words refuse to cooperate under the sudden attention. It certainly doesn’t help when Alice is giggling behind you, all-too pleased with whatever it is you’re supposed to be a part of, nor the fact Nicole and Barbeloth appear to be rather invested in you making a fool of yourself in front of them. Barbatos himself seems a little too smug for your liking, noting how his eyes crinkled with mirth shift between you, Alice, and the Grand Master he accompanied.

Speaking of the man, for all his earlier bravado when negotiating with the scariest people you know, you would think him to be a completely different person. Much like when you first appeared in that office, Varka just stares at you — wide-eyed and gaping. It’s almost comical the way someone of his stature appears so unassuming; almost. If not for the situation at hand, perhaps you would have found amusement at the blatant contrast.

But no, being the subject of close attention where eyes of varying levels of intrigue watch you be out of your element doesn’t give you room to feel that amusement, let alone gather your bearings.

Alice gives a warm squeeze of your shoulders, and you can practically hear the teasing smile seep through her voice. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, my dear? You know our new freind’s name, but he doesn’t know yours. I’m sure he would love to know your name, fufu.”

Gosh, you feel like a little kid being forced to make friends with the kid of your mother’s friend; not an adult who can make your own decisions.

Well, whatever. May as well get your introduction over with.

“My name is [Name], an apprentice witch under Alice.” If not for your mentor’s sparkling stare burning into the back of your head, or the two other witches’ very apparent interest in the situation, you would have stopped there. Unfortunately, you know you won’t be able to get away. So with another sigh, you begrudgingly continue, trying to focus anywhere but his starstruck expression. “It’s nice to meet the Grand Master who has made such a name for himself. I’m sure you must have worked hard to get to this point, and—”

Without warning, he drops to his knees. Eyes oozing nothing but earnest compassion, he speaks to you for the first time, voice warm as it carries the heavy weight of his sincerity.

“Yes, I am single. Yes, I will happily spend the rest of my life with you.”

Even the drop of a pin could shatter this new-found silence. Perhaps not quite a pin, but a tinkling explosion shatters it instead. Clouds of white smoke instantly fill the vicinity and drown out your vision. You still have enough wits about you to sense the presence of the Hexenzirkel witches, which also means you can’t detect the two visitors’ presence.

In other words: your hasty teleportation succeeded.

And sure, it’s not your best work, but conjuring a teleportation spell without any time to recite the appropriate incantations was the best you could do in that situation. Out of sight, out of mind as they say!

(You can only hope they end up back in his office. Actually? Scratch that. You hope they end up somewhere like Starfell Lake. Or a random location in Liyue. Or Natlan. Or Snezhnaya.)

When the clouds of smoke settle, the quiet beginning to creep in, something akin to dread stabbing your gut tells you this… incident, so to speak, is only just the beginning of a rather tiresome matter. That instinct solidifies the moment you’re suddenly the object of interest for these old witches, their teasing smiles and far too amused expressions already making you want to run away and hide in a corner. Even then you doubt you would be able to hide from them for long, so you exhale a resigned sigh of defeat as you feel your vitality wither away at their enthusiastic theory-crafting.

As you’re caught in the middle of these meddlesome hags trying to have a say in your very much non-existent love life, Varka remains stock-still in the middle of his office — very much dazed and lost in thoughts with a thoroughly amused Archon-slash-bard staring at him all smug. Much like his position prior to the abrupt cloud of smoke and slightly disgruntling sensation of being teleported (which he barely registered the full effects of amid his stupor), the Grand Master remains kneeled. In the middle of his office. No thoughts running through his mind other than the shocked expression you bestowed him before it quickly morphed into something akin to morbid (-ly adorable, in his perspective) embarrassment, only to be obscured by curls of smoke.

“Barbatos,” Varka eventually says, features taking on a serious tone. Venti merely widens his grin, already knowing where this conversation is headed just from the unfamiliar expression residing on the ever so laid-back Grand Master.

“Yes, Varka?”

Turning with a look so scarily serious, one none the wiser to the situation would think there to be some dire strategic talks occurring. Venti merely stifles a giggle, only to burst out into full-blown laughter as Varka’s following words are delivered with utmost solemnity.

“I think I may be in love. Horrendously so.”

(And if you suddenly find yourself appearing in a puff of smoke for the umpteenth time in front of an all-too eager to please Grand Master you’re increasingly beginning to get sick of seeing by the day with pesky witches and a nosy drunkard of an Archon on your tail? Well, that’s a story for another day. Probably.)