#khaenri'ahn reader

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[b0red-b1rds]

Hm

I'm thinking... pondering... mayhap even scheming... there might even be a hint of planning...

[ajaxsbeloved]

stygianoir asked:

"A part two of don’t give me that look with Dainsleif, Xiao and Scaramouche plz"

-: don't gimmie that look III :-

part 1 — part 2

feat. dainsleif, alhhaitham, and aether (xiao and scaramouche are in part 2!)

genre. suggestive

summary. the genshin men react to you giving them the “fuck me” eyes accidentally

warnings. dainsleif has fake lore since there's not much we know about him, dains reader uses she/her, dains section is kinda long my bad, khaenri'ahn body guard dain, reader is khaenri'ahn royality or something??, lore players pls don't kill me i'm just writing random shit, dains ending does NOT imply sex after i'm sorry y'all, reader is a scholar at the academiya with alhaitham, aether abyss prince au, more fake lore for aether because we don’t know anything abt the abyss yet

authors note. this series has short circuited my brain 😭😭😭 unfortunately i will NOT be doing a part 4 but please stick around my blog and thank you all for the amount of love you've given this series it means so much to me :( <3 // also this was reuploaded and tagged by @aventurinesweetheart bc i forgot to do it the first time

dainsleif

if dainsleif was anything it was good at his job. not to mention completely and utterly devoted to you...

of course the good part is that you Are his job

Khaenri'ah is a thriving nation, one built on technology and innovation. before the teyvat we knew, before the archons and before the heavenly principles

your father was a strict man, he was always stubborn and strongly believed in learning the right lesson at the right time

dain was a beloved member of the khaenri'ahn guard, having been a member of the guards history since before he was born. dainsleif's father and his father before him had all served the royal family, naturally dain would grow up to do the same thing

when he first became a knight he was proud, even if he wasn't yet protecting members of the royal family he was still happy doing regular guard duties and he was honored to even be a part of the group that would defend their nation

at the ripe age of 18 dainsleif was promoted, he wasn't scared though. no in fact he was extremely excited, he had been waiting for this his whole life and nothing could change the fact that he was proud to carry on his families legacy

he was assigned to protect the khaenri'ahn princess, the oldest of them at least who happened to be the same age as him. he had never actually met her though, sure he had seen her in public as she did royal things with her family like orientation of nobles and knighting new guards

but this was completely different, seeing royalty and befriending royalty were definitely not the same thing

when he first met you he wasn't surprised, you seemed like the typical royal princess. you were calm and put together, you were well articulated and held your head high as any proper royalty should do

it wasn't until a few months into being your specific guard that dainsleif noticed anything unique about you, the truth was that despite all your honorary behaviors and taught attitude, there was a kind and loving person behind it all

at first this was a little shocking to dain, he had no idea that royalty could be so... so human.

you may have been what he expected at first but after knowing you? you were a whole new person to him, not just someone he was hired to protect but you grew to be someone he wanted to protect

eventually the two of you grew rather close, becoming sort of like best friends. dainsleif was never one to socialize much as he had to focus on his job and you were kind of isolated from the world since being put on a pedastal made it hard for you to make friends out of regular everyday people

so from then on the duo was practically inseparable, glued to each other and always running to each other whenever anything remotely interesting happens

until one day, one day dain goes to your bedroom. he was worried, you had missed breakfast and didn't attend your behavior classes. this worried your parents too of course but no one truly cared for you the way dainsleif did

when you didn't answer after he knocked he warned that he was coming in and pushed open the door with a little bit of force only to find that you weren't there, in fact the bed room was completely empty and one of the windows by your bedside was wide open

the worst situation came into dainsleif's mind, had you run away? did someone take you? how was he ever supposed to protect you if he doesn't know where you are?

he immediately sprints to tell your parents and siblings only to find them already in the meeting hall with concerned expressions on their faces and a note in their hands

the note reads as follows "I have your daughter, bring me 100,000 dollars or i will cut off her hands. you have until 12AM, send only 1 guard and the money to this location."

the letter then had a map attached to it with a meeting point, your family was freaking out and insisted that they go to the meeting point with a full guard squad and the money just in case; the money

but dainsleif knew this was a bad idea, he knew that if the royal family sent a whole team of guards that they would never get you back and that the kidnapper would do horrible unimaginable things to you

the thought alone infuriated dain and he somehow managed to convince your family that it was him who needed to go with the money and bring you home safely

so he went, he brought the money and the kidnapper was there with you next to him. there was tape over your mouth and your hands were bound in rope, the sight was hard to look at but dainsleif mustered up all his courage to get you out of this situation

he went to give the kidnapper money and as he did so he managed to knock him out cold, how you may ask? don't. i don't know how he did it LMAO

you quickly ran up to dain and he cut off the ropes that bound your wrists as well as took the tape off of your mouth, thankful to even be alive you engulfed him in the tighest hug you could manage with the strength you had left

dainsleif was shocked, though you were friends you had never seemed to share a hug or been in physical contact so he was taken by surprise at your eager show of affection

he looked down at you and felt his body flood with warmth when he saw you were looking back at him, your eyes glittering in admiration at your hero and the widest toothiest grin on your face

dainsleif felt energy rejuvenate throughout his body, as if looking at you had somehow made him bounce back from all the worry and concern he had at the situation

there you were, looking at him like he was the best man in the world, like he was your hero. he couldn't help but smile back at you, your joyous expression apparently contagious

"let's get you home (y/n)."

alhaitham

being a scholar in the nation of knowledge was no easy feat, there were many and many people who were immensely smart and experienced with researching

alhaitham was no exception, he was of course extremely intelligent not to mention observant and caring (though he would never admit to it)

you had met alhaitham when you first joined the academiya, being in similar fields of study you were able to bond over things like professors or assignments that you struggled with

however alhaitham never struggled, he always found each task easy to complete and he did every assignment well enough to earn perfect grades

you spent countless hours in the library studying til you collapsed over the tests and exams that you had nearly every week, you could spend days and days in the computer lab trying to find sources for your papers and articles about the topics you were assigned for research

alhaitham always came along with you, finding any excuse not to be at home just in case kaveh happened to be there. besides it’s not like he ever had much to do, he had plenty of free time and for whatever reason he preferred spending it with you

even if you were truly spending your time “together”, it was often found that you had your nose in notes and scribbled diagrams while alhaitham sat quietly across from you reading a thick book that had at least 250 pages

sometimes you’d fall asleep studying or you’d have to take a few bathroom breaks, you’d always come back to find alhaitham in the same spot with the same neutral expression as he flipped the pages of his books

sometimes you’d try to talk with him, asking him about how his studies were going or what kaveh was up to. he always got rather annoyed by the questions regarding kaveh, he would get defensive or start bad mouthing kaveh as he tried to make himself look better

“kaveh is a lazy baboon who can hardly get his work done and eat throughout the day while i have to do all the chores around the house and manage to do my duties as the scribe… pfft it’s almost pathetic.”

he’d role his eyes at the thought of kaveh and go on and on complaining about how he hates being at home because he can’t stand being around kaveh, he’d sometimes mentioned hanging out at your place to avoid going home

“after studying we should grab something to eat and head to your house, i’d rather study more with you then go home and deal with my actual roommate.”

despite the way alhaitham talked about kaveh you knew they were actually good friends, they just clashed heads and bickered more than most people….. yeah… more than most….

so one day you let alhaitham come over after studying, you had gotten take out and some alcohol to have at your place while you relaxed after exams

you ate and laughed, though alhaitham seems stoic he’s a rather funny guy. not that he tries to be funny but he just says things so bluntly and isn’t afraid to gossip with you about people in your lives

you were drunk and enjoying yourself from across the table, eventually the laughter died down and the conversation came to a halt

the silence filled the air and alhaitham (who wasn’t drunk because he can hold his alcohol extremely well) was looking around your apartment as opposed to you

you sat there looking at alhaitham and taking in everything about him, from the way he hair framed his face to his gorgeous eyes and toned chest, even the way he smelled like wood

without even realizing you started giggling at him, finding your own thoughts about how good looking his was amusing and unexpected

hearing your laughter alhaitham turn his eyes to you, he froze at the sight before him

there you were sitting across the table from him with a light blush on your face and adorable smile on your lips

you were so perfect, from your teeth to your eyebrows and the way your nose scrunched as you laughed at him made his stomach turn in on itself

truthfully he didn’t understand, what were you laughing about? why did he find you so attractive right now? and how could you laugh so carefree like that? was it because of him?

“what’re you laughing for?”

“you silly! you’re so funny y’know that?”

that was it, that was the straw that broke the camels back. alhaitham didn’t know what it was that made him do flips in his head but he knew if he didn’t do something about it soon it would leave him a wreck

he got up the table swiftly, surprising you as you let out a noise of confusion, he made his way over to your side of the table and grabbed your hand

pulling you up you let out a “wha-“ and before you knew it he was dragging you around the house, to a place you were well familiar with which was of course, your bedroom

he led you quietly and once you arrived he closed the door, pushing you against it and locking lips with you

you were surprised but certainly not disappointed, you leaned into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck would made him groan as you smiled against him

“i need to be more than just your study buddy.”

aether

the abyss was a rather strict organization, there weren’t many humans who were a part of it yet you find yourself aligning with their views and climbing up the ranks

today was an important day, today was a mission that the abyss took very seriously. you were chosen to retrieve information on the tsaritsa’s plan to steal the gnosis’ and bring the plans back to headquarters

everything was going just right, you were able to infiltrate a fatui agency successfully and managed to gain access to some information that most fatui weren’t even able to be aware of

you gathered the files you obtained and started to make your way out of the fatui agency when suddenly a man stopped you

“you. i don’t think i’ve seen you anyway around here before, who are you and what is your clearance?”

you were put on the spot, but not to worry because this was something you trained for, this was something you were expecting

“you haven’t seen me because i outrank you. don’t talk down to your captains, i have important business. now if you’ll excuse me i need to take these files to the knave, interrupt me again and i’ll make sure she hears about how you interfered with her collection of information.”

the man in front of you froze upon hearing the knaves name, he took a nervous gulp and apologized for intruding on your collection of data

you acted snarky, scoffing at this innocent lower level employee and giving him a dirty look to which he squealed at

you successfully exited the building and travelled back to abyssal headquarters to report your findings to the high council, hoping that perhaps you’d get promoted or at least a raise

you strutted into headquarters proudly, holding your head high and nodding at those who greeted you and welcomed you back

you may your way to the high council meeting room and presented the information you collected, spilling all the details of your mission and how the fatui managed to not suspect anything of you

the council was impressed and satisfied with your report, the most notable being the prince. aether was very pleased with your abilities and was prideful to have such an intelligent and skilled agent on his side of the war

“come here, i shall award you an honor not many have been able to accomplish.”

you walk closer to his throne and find yourself in front of the prince himself who was not only powerful and smart but also extremely handsome

“on your knees.”

you knelt carefully, placing your hand on your chest and closing your eyes to listen to your prince

aether took out his sword from its sheath and you shivered hearing the blade scrape against the metal cover, more gently than expected, the prince brought his sword to your shoulders and announced you a knight, one of the highest honors among the abyssal kingdom

“congratulations, you have become a knight and you will fight by my side, do not disappoint me. i trust in your abilities.”

you open your eyes and lift your head to look aether in the eyes, meeting him as he looked down at your kneeling figure

aether felt his heart pang at the sight, you who looked up at him as if he was the world, like you would do anything for him

your eyes glossed and your steady breathing causing your chest to rise up and down, the image was practically burned into his mind as he felt himself warm up within a matter of seconds

you were breathtaking, it was something he always knew but seeing you before him so willingly and effortlessly he found himself enamored with your beauty

“stand” he said firmly

despite his firm tone and professionalism, aether was dying on the inside fighting an army of nerves and trying to ignore the way his cheeks melted like ice cream

you slowly stood, keeping your hand to your chest and eyes in his. though you had no idea what he was going to say next you didn’t seem to care when looking at him, as if he had put you in a trance and made it impossible to look away

“let’s discuss your promotion in private quarters shall we?”

tagged: @aventurinesweetheart @z3nitsusgf @stygianoir

[shizuturnspages]

After child reader khaenri'ah tried to commit suicide, how do you treat them? At least captain no longer forces her to do training? Will Reader be able to sleep and rest?

A Fractured Star

Synopsis: The moment they found you—pale, weak, barely breathing—everything changed. You see it in their eyes. You feel it in their actions. They failed. And that was unacceptable. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Pierro, Kaeya, Albedo, Capitano x Khaenri'ahn Child

Dainsleif – The Ghost Who Should Have Protected You

He is furious.

But not at you.

At himself.

"I should have seen it coming."

His watch over you is now constant, but quiet. No more distance, no more cold logic—he is always near.

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel it in the way he adjusts your cloak, ensures you eat, watches over you as you sleep.

For the first time, when he kneels before you, it is not as a former knight mourning a fallen nation.

It is as a broken man mourning you.

"Do not leave me, too."

Pierro – The Strategist Who Let You Slip Through the Cracks

He is silent.

For someone who always has a plan, a strategy, a move to make—this was not in his calculations.

You are removed from the battlefield. No more forced training. No more harsh lessons.

You are not a tool. Not anymore.

"You have my protection. My resources. My time."

A cold hand rests on your head for the first time.

"Use them, child."

And though his expression remains unreadable—

You could swear you almost hear a sigh of relief when you accept.

Kaeya – The Liar Who No Longer Knows How to Smile

He doesn’t joke.

He doesn’t smirk, tease, or pretend.

For the first time, Kaeya is just Kaeya.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

His hands tremble when he cups your cheeks.

His voice wavers when he tells you—

"You’re supposed to be annoying me for years, you know?"

His room is yours now. His warmth is yours now. He will not let you disappear.

Even if he has to chain himself to you to keep you here.

Albedo – The Scientist Who Cannot Control His Own Creation

He stares at his own hands.

Hands that treated you like an experiment.

Hands that failed to see you breaking.

And for the first time—

He hates them.

"I was wrong." His voice is quieter.

"This is not analysis. Not logic. Not curiosity."

He places a warm drink in your hands, sits beside you instead of across from you.

No more studies. No more experiments.

Just Albedo.

And you.

And a desperate attempt to piece together what he broke.

Capitano – The Titan Who Thought You Were Unbreakable

Training is gone.

Not paused. Not delayed.

Gone.

You are not his soldier. Not his warrior.

You are a child.

And he forgot that.

"Sleep." His voice is final. Undeniable.

"Eat." His tone leaves no room for argument.

"Rest."

He carries you when you are too weak to walk. He stands guard when nightmares claw at your sleep.

He is not a gentle man.

But when you lean against him, exhausted and hollow—

His arms remain open.

Because he will never let you fall again.

[deathbxnny]

SO HEAR ME OUT A LITTLE ROT NEVER STOPED ANYONE-

Ok anyways- Capitano, Dainsleif & Arlecchino where reader was also from Khaenri'ah and they where alive when the Cataclysm happened yeah yeah but like say they got impaled in the like upper stomach and so that’s where their rot is (it wasn’t enough to kill them).

- (￣▽￣)

Capitano, Dainsleif, and Arlecchino with a Khaenri'ahn!Gn!Reader.

This was honestly pretty interesting to write about, so thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this post!!<3 (I made this way too angsty ngl-)

Content: Vague mentions of rotting, angst, established relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAPITANO

He knew you during his time in Khaenri'ahn and stuck by your side even after it fell, and you too were victimized by that cruel curse. He was rotting away under his armor, whilst the injury you sustained did the same, albeit much slower than his. He never commented on it, however, and neither did you on his appearance. You both understood that in this world, only you two could truly sympathize with the other's plight.

And so, he made sure to let you know that your beauty never faded to him. You were always stunning in his eyes. The curse could never take that away from you no matter how much it rotted away your flesh. If insecurities arise, then he's quick to whisk them away with kind and gentle words that may seem unlikely to come from him. Yet he means every letter.

Your past haunts the both of you, yet there is a certain pride in the way you came out victorious in the end despite your cruel circumstances. Even if your flesh rots away completely, your love will withstand it all.

》DAINSLEIF

The guilt is painful. Perhaps even worse than the curse and way worse than the suffering you, too, endured after your home was destroyed. And a part of him will, therefore, always wonder if death wouldn't have been a mercy on you especially after all. He can't bear to see your flesh and body rot away, the injury he couldn't prevent being a forever reminder of his failures, and it killed him inside, even if he never showed his discomfort. He didn't dare to. He wasn't in a better state anyway, despite being somehow still strong enough to continue every day. It was only a matter of time.

Your insecurities and turbulent thoughts of self-doubt are swept away by his calming voice and words, an ache in his heart whenever he sees you reminisce on what you once were. The world of Teyvat was vast and wide, so endless, and yet you two were lonely in it, despite the comfort you had in only eachother.

A time would come in which you'd succumb to the curse or beat all odds and escape it. But whatever fate chooses to be, Dainsleif is honored to experience it at your side.

》ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino considers her past as just that. A past that she left behind in pursuit of better greater things, especially after the fall of Khaenri'ah and her previous mother Curcabena. Life moved on, and yet, you were a gentle reminder in her life to never close that door to her origins entirely. Both of your appearances, hearts and souls had been changed by the curse. And although she was one of the very few lucky one's that escaped the clutches of the rot, she still acknowledged that you were indeed not as fortunate. Not that she minded.

To her, you forever remained the same no matter how bad your condition may have become or how worse it's going to be. Her children respect you as their parents, and she respects you as her lifelong partner. And that's enough for her and you. Any insecurities you may have are gently soothed by the security she gave you through the House of Hearth and herself.

Arlecchino knows that, ultimately, the curse is inescapable no matter how hard she pulls away from it. But alas, she supposes that it doesn't matter too much, if she goes down with you at her side. It will at least be less lonely that way.

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hi! It's me again! I'm here hoping to inspire you or simply share some thoughts and ideas!

1. What if we knew the harbingers before they became harbingers. For example when piętro was still studying to become a court mage.(At least I think that he was a court mage), or when Capitano was training to become a soldier and we were a doctor or a nurse, we knew dottore when he was a kid and so on and so forth. They believe we are long dead but surprise bitch we are still kicking. I thought that maybe in Dottores and Pantalones part we were an adeptai or simply something that lives a lot longer than humans. And surprise bitch number two we were looking for them the entire time because you know we love them. The moment they see us they think they see a ghost or something that came back to hunt them for their mistakes.

2. And my second idea is much more wholesome. We are simply a kid that adopted them as our fathers/uncles. And they don't want to get rid of us because we remind them of well them when they were kids. Imagine one day they come to a meeting with a kid hiding under there Coat and when ask they are like the meme with Spencer from Icarly with the smoothie and the ostrich.

So yeah these are my brain dead ideas and if they are interesting or something you would like to read more of I would be happy to send more

But anyway remember to take care of yourself first!

(Wha- You said piętro! The keyboard said piętro!!! Only I am allowed to misspel Pierro's name as piętro 20 times a day, dlaczego masz polską klawiaturę?!!)

✧ I always kind of headcannoned Reader as a person capable of living many years - either because they are Khaenri'ahn, another species, or an Adeptus; it's not really up to me. Whatever intricate details people like to imagine are up to them. ✧ Imagine knowing a Harbinger centuries before they were a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps you and Pierro were apprentices to the higher sages in Khaenri'ah, spending countless times sharing secret vows before the Cataclysm separated you. Perhaps you were Capitano's first-ever formidable opponent, one who held immense respect for you as a warrior and admired your enigmatic capabilities, yearning for another battle with you. Perhaps, you knew the young boy Zandik way back in Sumeru and you are the only being left who remembers the ruby-red eyes staring at you with determined wonder. ✧ No matter the backstory or origins of the past, this Harbinger never forgot you, and despite the 500 years of separation, this person would now use all his power and intel to seek you out. Clinging to ancient memories of the past, he still yearns to see a glimpse of you. Even if it means to reach the Abyss and back, he is still seeking.

That, in my opinion, is the best trope for the Fatui fics. Even when I write about different scenarios.

✧ A wholesome Father/Uncle/Teacher Harbinger to smaller reader is just a recipe for comic chaos. You have this high and mighty Fatuus, who with a single gaze can deep his subordinates into silence, yet now this same man is running around the Zapolyarny Palace, trying to catch you because you refuse to do your homework. You will either exhaust him to death, or he will exhaust you from running away and causing shenanigans.

One way or another it ends with both of you dozing off an armchair later that evening. The Harbinger holding you in his arms, wrapped up in a comfy blanket, while he rest his weary head on his knuckles, the fireplace crackling nearby. <3 ✧ As always, lovely suggestions, my friend! I will tag you if I manifest them into fully-fledged fics. Thank you, and hope you're doing well

[maopll]

Could I request Kaeya, Diluc, Childe and Zhongli's (separate) s/o laying them down on her lap and playing with the boys' hair when their exhausted?

Put your head on my heart

#genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: its boutta feel like heaven once I scratch their heads I'm being dead serious...hopefully there's no dandruff...

⌗:, pairings: khaenri'ahn, weird grown up, snezhnaya's greatest toymaker, fossil w/ gn!reader (separately)

⌗:, note: I wanted to post smth before I went to school so pls take it with a grain of salt (low effort work)

— ୨୧ KAEYA

"Ahh...that's feels great" Kaeya mumbled drowsily against your lap.

"You're having real fun by having me at your beck and call huh?" You playfully said as you pressed one spot on his forehead a little harder.

"Ow ow ow gently I'm very feeble" He smirked while looking you with half his eyes closed. It looks like the exhaustion really creeped up to him. He's not one who easily shows through his demeanor how much overworked or even exhausted he is.

To others he may seem like how he usually does but the slight change in his personality spoke words to you. The past week he became sluggish and even fell asleep at the most odd places.

Thus you took it upon your hands to lay him down on your lap and forcibly make him achieve that deserved slumber that he really needed.

"It's not right to overwork yourself so much Kaeya..." your voice sounded like one of worry. Kaeya knew how you felt and...he can't really disagree with you. "I'll be careful next time lovely"

"Oh, you better! you're trying to shave years of my life here with how much you're overworking yourself!" You smack his head. He laughed, seeing you worry so much, and said "aww I'm sorry," all while having a shit eating grin on his face as he smothered your face with his kisses to make you stop worrying. "You have my oath as a knight, my dove" he says so while sealing the words with a kiss on the back of your hand in quite the knightly fashion.

— ୨୧ DILUC

It's way past midnight. The workers and the Maids of the Manor are enjoying the honey heavy dew of slumber while you paced back and forth in your own room's veranda as you stared far into the vineyards to even catch a glimpse of your lover. It's not unusual for Diluc to return late, but it's even more unusual when he hasn't come back after the clock struck 2 a.m.

"Where is he?" Your worries grew like a rapid fire. You tried to calm your nerves by telling yourself "it's alright..." when your ears perked up with the creak of the front door. After some time, you saw Diluc emerge from the shadows with his red hair looking particularly vibrant under the moonlight.

"Gosh, you had me worried there dear..." you strode towards him. "Yes...it looks like I kept you awake and worried for a long time? apologies..." as he sounded those words, his voice grew tired and low as his eyes nearly closed from how drowsy he was. You frowned at this sight of him. So you held his hand gently and guided him towards your bed to let him get that well deserved rest since he looked as if he would flop flat on the ground if you did not let him fall on the bed sooner.

You guided his head towards your lap and ruffled his red locks gently. "I'll help you sleep quicker, Diluc. So just close your eyes now" with a peck to his forehead, you put your hands softly over his eyes. "Thank you...love"

— ୨୧ CHILDE

"Childe...I don't think this is that right place to do this..."

And yes it wasn't. He decided to go out fishing in Dragonspine with you because he said, "I miss the way me and my family used to fish in Snezhnaya" all puppy eyed and stuff. You're always the one who says yes to anything he says but maybe...maybe this time you should've said no...

"But babe I'm tired! won't you let me rest my head on your lap?" so he said when he is literally a harbinger. Him running out of stamina and being exhausted? impossible that's something that will happen in an alternate universe. He just needed a sorry excuse to feel the warmth your thigh emitted because he just couldn't get enough of those.

"Childe I'm not saying that you can't lay on my lap but we are out in the middle of nowhere in adeserted frosty mountain!" You screamed to him while he just jumped up with excitement, "Oh look! I caught a Snowstrider! Great catch!"

"Oh my archons...are we done yet?" you said impatiently because the cold was getting to you. "Aww but I was thinking about catching a few more...alright let's go home now"

You noticed the tone drop in his voice. Looks like he really missed those eventful days of his. So with a sigh and a forgiving smile on your face you agreed to his whims, "Nevermind it's alright, you can fish as much as you want we can go after some time"

Oh what a sight it was when his eyes literally sparkled with joy and the way his ears perked up hearing your words of affirmation. "Thanks babe! Watch me catch the biggest one for you!"

Oh it's going to be a long day...

— ୨୧ ZHONGLI

The vibrant kites were visible from the small window of your house. Lantern Rite comes every year with a new surprise yet even before the preparations are completed before the event, the hustle and bustle of the people as they scurried to prepare meticulously for the biggest event was a joy that could never eb expressed in words.

So here you were. Atop a hill overseeing the entirety of Liyue Harbour with your lover resting on you lap as you played with his hair as soft as the silk flowers and as fragrant as qingxins.

"Do you like the view Zhongli?" you quietly asked, keeping the comforting silence that prevailed amidst the two of you. "As always. Mortals and their customs have never ceased to amaze me." He hummed lowly as you scratched that one spot of his head. He had those areas on his head which felt better than the other places because...he's a dragon after all.

He looked up at you through his lashes and spoke, "Once the Liyue Harbour is decorated, let us visit Mount Aocang to give those old friends a little greeting." You smiled at how much he cared for those who lived along with him. "Sure let's do that"

[vxnuslogy]

— a proper knight.

pairing: dainsleif x gn!reader

premise: fading memories of bygone pasts are no stranger to dainsleif, but if there were two things he still remembered it's his journey with an outlander, and his beloved mentor who loved flowers.

— warnings: slight angst if you squint

— author's note: khaenri'ahn people will always hold a special place in my heart. this has been in the drafts for so long and it's finally going to see the light of day!!! thank you ray ( @mikashisus ) for proofreading this <3. art credits to @.birdsofpasssage on twt. | 2.1k words.

a knight has seven virtues: courage, justice, mercy, generosity, nobility, hope, and faith. dainsleif often wondered why faith was a virtue he must have to become a knight, it seemed silly to have in a nation that believed in no god, but he was proven wrong when he first saw you.

“the nation’s finest knight,” “khaenri’ah’s greatest talent,” and “the light bringer.” these were all the titles given to you in your many years of serving this nation. just like how his father told him, khaenri’ah’s finest knight was fearless, just, and merciful. you embodied the hope this nation craved—a guiding light. he often wondered what exactly you saw in him to take him as your apprentice. but when he asked the question, you gave no reply and asked, “what’s your favorite flower?”

dainsleif was confused—was this flower loving knight really khaenri’ah’s greatest talent, the same harsh instructor everyone feared? dainsleif let out a heavy breath when he realized he might have signed up for the wrong job. but like the first time he saw you swing the sword, all his initial doubts were quenched. you simply loved flowers because they contrasted your brutal animosity on the battlefield—a reminder of the fragile and beautiful home you grew up in and the weight of khaenri’ah’s fragile hope of the world.

yes, you were harsh, and yes, you criticized every swing of his sword, but you cared. deeply so that you would drop to one knee in front of a crying knight who profusely apologized for retiring—the burden of being a hero was too great. you would take the burden of others out of their hands and carry them yourself, even if it meant burning out the light the people gave you. 

that day, dainsleif found a new purpose for being a knight: to ease your burdens and see you rest under beds of the flowers you loved the most, free from all worries. so he trained, long and hard until all his bones began to quake and beg for rest, and even then he never stopped. he trained until he adopted your way of fighting in the bloodshed—even when bloodied and on the brink of death, turn to your comrades and give them hope; a reason to fight until the end. he learned to bask in your silent company, weaving inteyvat like second nature, as if these delicate flowers could bind both of your souls together in a silent promise. 

you were quiet in your affections and bitterly cold in your duties, but even when dainsleif hangs his head low as you appoint him his title, he feels the gentle grip on your sword. he hears the crowd cheer and applauds, he takes this as a sign to raise his head, and he’s grateful for the neutral expression you’ve instilled in him since his trainee days. one soft look in your eyes that’s directed at him and he’d go down on his knees and kiss the ground beneath your feet—offer you the stars that hang in the sky and demand a seat reserved just for you in celestia’s abode.

the both of you sneak away from the festivities and dainsleif takes this chance to ask, “why the title of twilight sword?”

he believed you wouldn’t answer—you never did—and to no one’s surprise, you simply placed an inteyvat behind his ear. gloved hand brushing his hair back and securing the fragile flower in place with khemia. 

“you’re still young, my stubborn apprentice,” you start, voice carrying years of wisdom unknown to him. “you’ll understand when you’re a proper knight.”

dainsleif furrowed his brow in contemplation. wasn’t he already a proper knight? the title given to him should prove it, so what did your words mean? dainsleif should’ve stayed in the garden until dusk arrived. cherished the already scarce moments he had with you, but you can’t blame him for the hurt you had caused because how dare you view him as a little boy. 

he’ll never have the chance to yell at you or even get mad because, by the next few days, his home will be bathed in a crimson catastrophe. dainsleif couldn’t even process anything properly as you jumped into action—carrying the sword in your hand, cape flying with the wind as you barked orders. “protect the people! you are all knights, experienced or not, your duty is to protect your home.” your voice reverberated in the chaos before diving into the battlefield head first.

you were nowhere in sight and dainsleif had never felt so helpless in battle. all the confidence he's built over the years comes crumbling down as he forces his band of knights to retreat—their defeat was already set in stone. but he couldn’t give up yet so he stayed in the fray, swinging his sword, searching for survivors, and hoping to catch up to you. he knows he’ll die if he doesn’t retreat but he can’t bring himself to be sheltered when you’re still out there, fighting for your life.

the sky burned a deeper crimson as the fury of the god’s raged on. amid the battle, you stood there, all on your own, a figure of unwavering resolve and devotion. dainsleif watched in silent agony as you took down monster after monster, racing against the time you don’t have. he knew, dainsleif knew deep down you would not come with him, and that thought makes him falter. how can you, the person who taught him to fight for all he’s cared about, suddenly teach him how to leave everything behind?

“[name!]” he shouts, voice being lost amid battle, as he runs in your direction. dainsleif feels a bile rise to his throat as he tears his gaze away from the bodies littered at your feet. the flowers you dearly loved were now revolting. “we need to retreat.”

“i cannot,” you cut down his hope like a knife. you turn to face him, all the hope he once admired in you now gone as you walk farther away from him. “leave, dainsleif. let me handle the rest.”

“i won’t leave you here to die in vain.” he catches your wrist and tugs at you in the direction of safety. “we’ve lost, light bringer. please, retreat with me.”

you break his hold on your wrist, your gloved hands stained with blood cradle his face before shoving him harshly and desperate. “my duty lies here in khaenri’ah and i will die upholding it. but you are different my stubborn apprentice, allow yourself to be more than just the twilight sword.”

“what am i supposed to protect if you aren’t there to encourage me?” he questions, unsure of his purpose if you weren’t there to help him.

but you only smile—kind and reassuring. “you will make a fine knight one day, dainsleif. do not let this one defeat sway your resolve. i did not train you to give up easily. now go,” you push him further and further as the monsters roared and the gods rained their fury.

the weight of your decision was palpable—dainsleif couldn’t bring himself to breathe as you jumped into battle once again. he wanted to be your sword, the one to aid you in battle even when he’s no more than a rusty piece of scrap metal. he wanted to scream at you, how could you abandon him so easily when he’s spent all these years staying by your side? but you still turned back, eyes no longer as hopeful as before but they still flickered faintly. 

“carry on, dainsleif,” you whisper to him from a distance, amidst all the screams and crimson sky, dainsleif still hears you. it was not a command��it was a promise.

dainsleif’s last memory of you was the beds of inteyvats beneath your feet and the tears that stained your cheek. that was over 500 years ago, and the memory of that cataclysm was still a fresh wound in his mind. in those 500 years, dainsleif traversed through teyvat, following every and any trail of the abyss order to put an end to this madness. all the while, he found himself picking flowers from each nation, pondering which would be your favorite.

he’s always imagined your second meeting to be bittersweet; a harsh cut to the heart with you laughing at someone while dainsleif stood on the sidelines. but that wasn’t you at all, because when you do meet for the second time, it’s by a bed of sumeru roses and wild flora as you indulge in the aranara’s amusement. 

dainsleif has always thought you were meant to be like this, not a valiant knight covered in scars and blood, but an angel bathed in moonlight as you sang the kids a lullaby and wished them a good night. you were meant for flowers and crowns, not a sword or shield. 

he takes one step, then two, and then he fully stops. dainsleif wanted to approach—the yearning to catch up with the mentor he grew to love—but he was scared. who was he to disturb your fragile happiness? you had survived a great catastrophe and are now living a happy life, he no longer had a part to play in your story. this guilt for failure was his and his alone to carry. who was he to disturb your quiet sanctuary when he left you behind for 500 years?

“not going to say hello to your old mentor?”

dainsleif feels an arm drape across his shoulders, bringing him down to face your height as your other hand comes to pat down his blonde hair. “i taught you to be chivalrous and courteous. don’t tell me you’ve forgotten in a measly five-hundred years?”

500 years wasn’t a number to scoff at, yet here you were, the same hair that was swept away from your eyes and the same confident stance. you let him go and the two of you fall into a silent walk. to where? dainsleif’s not quite sure. he didn’t want to drag you into his scuffle with the abyss, he’d much rather have you stay somewhere in sumeru where you’d be safe. but he knew, deep down dainsleif knew, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to know what truly happened that day.

“you’ve been blessed with a new life,” he mentions and motions to the cryo vision on your hip. “you can leave khaenri’ah behind now.”

you only shook your head. “teyvat has treated me well these past five hundred years, but i’d much rather come back home.”

dainsleif presses his lips into a thin line and says nothing. what could he say, after all, throughout the years he’s been with you, not once has he ever convinced you to retreat. he was snapped out of his daze when your hand came to pat the back of his head. you no longer wore gloves, and dainsleif swore he could feel every callous and gentle press of your palm.

“you’re so grown up now,” you say in jest, eyes twinkling with uncontained amusement. “don’t take my last statement about you to heart, dainsleif. you have always been a proper knight, i just didn’t want to see you go so soon.”

he stays silent and allows you to pat his head like a child. when the two of you start walking again you tell him your reason for his title.

“twilight is when light and darkness merge,” dainsleif’s eyes never once left yours as you talked. you just smile and continue. “it’s a period where the world becomes uncertain, just like you. that’s why dusk is the one to give birth to dawn.”

dainsleif lets out a small sound between a scoff and laugh. “i still don’t understand why you carry the title of dusk. why not let someone else carry the burden?”

you chuckle and look over to the horizon. “i simply do not wish for someone to suffer as i have.”

“you’re foolish,” he mutters and you hum in reply. he tears his gaze from you and instead looks over to the rising sun in the distance. “why did you choose me that day?”

“you were the only knight who would willingly cross hell before he arrived in heaven.” 

dainsleif furrows his brow in confusion. even after 500 years, you still spoke in riddles he couldn’t decipher without any hints. “i have no desire to go to heaven if you’re not there. my duty will always be bound to the abyss.” 

“like a mentor, like a mentee, still so stubborn to uphold a duty that’s long passed. but even then, you’ve become a fine knight, dainsleif.” you compliment.

“i had a stubborn teacher, but they were the best of the best. the greatest knight in khaenri’ah.” there was a joking air to his response and you let out a chuckle. your hand comes to rest at the back of his head and gently pat it as you both look away from the rising sun.

“well, shall we go back home now?”

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[baeshijima]

u know what would be a cool genshin fic idea? isekai/transmigrated reader, but instead of appearing within the general timeline, you come into the genshin world 500 years prior to the start of the storyline in khaenri'ah.

honestly it could be either a little before the cataclysm, giving enough time to delve into some relationship building + explore some world building with characters like dainsleif, traveller's sibling (which would probably be lumine bc i actually do like her as abyss sibling & aether as traveller), and npcs like halfdan (still crying over him to this day ;w;) and possibly the khaenri'ahn royal guards (assuming you either join them or have a good enough relationship with them), OR it could be you appear during the crisis, completely and utterly lost as to why you were brought amidst the chaos and bloodshed as you watch everything you barely knew about this nation crumble before your very eyes.

either route will still result in reader's existential crises and constant "why am i here? just to suffer?" monologues because really, who would be fine after going through that after coming from /our/ world? and not to mention you've had to endure the next 500 years wandering with no real set path because you don't know this world— this era of teyvat or of genshin. you're merely stuck, unable to die, and forced to live a life of uncertainty with no clear direction for you to go to.

despite it all, you've at least been able to see dain during this course. while your meetings pass far too quickly for your lonesome, and his solemn demeanour is something you're yet to be accustomed to after having been with him before the fall of khaenri'ah (assuming it's the route where you appear before the cataclysm), you're glad to see a familiar face every now and then. after the messy departure with the lumine who left for the abyss order, you've come to appreciate his quiet presence more and more each time.

and then you decide it might be time to settle. you soon realise it's difficult to do so when your lifespan has become far more than that of a human's — of a mortal's — and so you find yourself becoming used to staying in one place for a few years before setting off for the next. rinse and repeat. over and over. it's come to a point where you've witnessed the nations undergo various changes each time you visit. you know change is inevitable, and yet your heart stings each time you witness it; a testament to how the world is ever-changing, yet you're stuck in place as a bystander.

one thing you're grateful for, however, are the bonds you've established amid your back-and-forth over the centuries. from archons like zhongli and venti to long-life beings such as neuvillette and the adepti to regular mortals who have showed you kindness as if one of their own... you've grown to cherish those memories, often reminiscing them when the nights get too long and surroundings too quiet. it was difficult at first, and still is, but you've become used to the inevitable change and the passing of those you once knew.

and after 500 years, you find yourself face-to-face with one you haven't seen since before you appeared in this world; the protagonist of this world, and the one you eventually join in hopes of finally finding a means to an end, aether.

little side notes/extras:

from /our/ world, you would probably know the storyline from up to around current (5.0) or maybe a little after the fontaine aq conclusion. it gives a lot to work with, but you definitely won't remember a lot of the lore after so long other than some main events, especially since most of your knowledge is pretty irrelevant for the next 500 years,,,

i think it would be cool if you had an inteyvat on your person as a little homage of khaenri'ah, which may or may not invoke some opinions from certain characters (*cough* aether immediately being reminded of lumine and having an existential crisis *cough*)

post-cataclysm you would go through a, uhm, long phase of helplessness, wondering why you were even brought to this world so far back if you couldn't even make any contributions. it does eventually morph into a resolution to do what you can to help those you come across if it's within your capabilities, but the nightmares and helplessness come back every now and then as a reminder for what you can't do :D yippee :D

honestly i'm on the fence whether you would have a vision or some other type of abilities (think on the similar lines of aether/lumine's and dain's), but i think having some type of purification mechanic would be a must in your arsenal !! would definitely lead to some moments between you and characters like dain or zhongli who suffer from the erosion as you give them a slight reprieve from what rages within and corrodes them

a little self indulgent, but i'd like to think your first /proper/ meeting with zhongli happens during a lantern rite festival, wherein you're admiring the lanterns in the sky after making a wish of your own and he comes up from behind with "they're beautiful, wouldn't you say so?" and !!

also as for love interests, as much as i would love for human/mortal characters, a part of me feels like this story would be better suited for the immortal/long-life characters as love interests?? idk i feel like considering that 500 years is, well, a long time, the bonds you would have with them compared to characters like, say, alhaitham or diluc would be way too different ?? though i would definitely still add them as love interest bc i am a sucker for so many of the human characters ;w; it would also add to the angst and hurt/comfort ahahha...

anyway thank you for reading this massive brain dump of a fic bc i absolutely would put this as a long term project, and if u made it this far then i would like to say that dain solos—

[vinylsforaphrodite]

tranquility

dainsleif x fem!reader | 6.7k+ words

synopsis: in a quiet moment of reflection, an old soul vividly recalls the ardent love he once shared with you from a past life, a connection that transcends time and lingers in his heart.

note: might not be completely canon bc khaenri'ah lore is crazy, (but I did my research and tried my best), also descriptions of khaenri'ah are made up and my own.

i wrote this while on holiday in the south of france, so some descriptions are reminiscent of that ;)

content: suggestive but not explicit, major character death, war & destruction, you're an artist, fluff and angst, worldbuilding, khaenri'ah+the cataclysm.

You told him about the universe and he said it scared him, the way it keeps expanding. And you said, That’s my favorite part. You said the universe is making sure that no one will ever know everything because it never stays the same long enough for a curious person to catch up.

You said that in summer at night. Very late at night, it must have been, for there was no one around but you and the waxing crescent moon that curiously gazed down bellow, content and tired grin shining brightly as if to say, Your hushed whispers fool no one! Your jumbled words and rosy cheeks and jittery hands do not hide the most obvious fact: Love… yes it is love that is drifting through the salty breeze! 

The two of you had spent the day at the harbor market. Dainsleif had just gotten relieved from duty the night before, and he couldn’t wait to spend the next week with you by his side, with no work and no worries lingering in the recesses of his usually busy mind.

Clamorous and enterprising shopkeepers set up their booths along the main harbor square, their wagons wheeling carts of handmade antiques and miniature sculptures, flowers in water buckets, old family specialties made of the most decadent ingredients, and too much more for him to take it all in. Your favorite part of the market had been the flower quarter, in which florists with the help of their assistants— usually young girls and boys trying to make a small penny— laid out their arrangements in orderly pairs of the most beautiful Khaenri'ahn flora.

You favored the campanulas. Their periwinkle and deep royal purple bowl-like complexions had an aroma so sweet that they made it out to be a famous ingredient for expensive Khaenri'ahn perfume. Dainsleif bought you a campanula bouquet for half of its original price after heartwarmingly chatting up the florist. His words being: Who can deny such a beautiful young lady a matching beautiful bouquet of flowers?

“Is this how you woo all the young, beautiful ladies you bring along on these dates?” you had asked.

“No,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as his hair spun of gold from the sun itself. “Just you.”

Your skillful hands knew exactly which peaches had the right, ripe vermillion and pink sunset crevices. And the watermelon! How could he forget? The watermelon was delightful that day, with its refreshing sweetness melting on his tongue and mixing wonderfully with the lemonade you bought from young Gisela at her mother’s booth. The little girl’s face lit up when she saw you approach. You were, after all, her most cherished and valued customer. In your white dress with its ruffles and lace trim, you carried your basket and greeted her with a kind smile.

Although it brings him great pain, he often finds himself picturing that smile. Your smile. The smile he would start forgetting deep into the midnight when he was abruptly woken up by a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead and down his back. Days: He stopped counting long ago. Weeks: He did not know. Months: Seven. Years: Five hundred and twenty-two. This was the time since he last saw that smile, and every day it had gotten harder and harder to draw it out perfectly in his imagination, just how he saw it under that grinning moon then.

So when he has trouble falling asleep – wherever that may be these days – under a tree, in an abandoned adventurers campground, in a cave, in an old inn if the caretaker is kind enough to let him stay, to distract himself from the sounds of horror and fire and smell of ash he imagines that day where you smiled at little Gisela and purchased her homemade sparkling lemonade for the two of you to share. But the idea that he started to forget the exact shape of your dress, the exact pair of heels you wore that day, the color of your earrings, if there were three or four freckles by the right arch of your brow, haunted him immensely.

Impending doom. It sounds positively terrifying to Dainsleif. What if one day — and it may be tomorrow or another five hundred years from now — he wakes up and this memory of you is merely gone forever? That he simply… forgets? That it is finally your time to be laid to rest in the spiritual world, in the small part of the world of his heart he had designated, had left, for you?

There are little moments, little sparks in which Dainsleif’s worries are eased. They come in waves on certain days. He might just be walking up a grassy hill, gathering wood for a fire, or sitting in Angel’s Share (though he prefers the Cat’s Tail on the occasion he decides to enjoy a more easygoing crowd). It is during these moments when an image of you suddenly tingles his consciousness, and it brings warmth, as well as ache, to his troubled heart.

The vibrato of your sweet voice.

The softness of your sunkissed skin.

You sounded like storefront windchimes.

You felt like the ocean at twilight.

You reminded him of sweet strawberry waffles and breakfast in bed.

You were like green cottage shutters and lemon slices in black tea.

You were like a rustic stone fireplace after a day out in the snow.

The taste of your heart. It is a flavor that once matched his tongue.

The smell of your hair. It reminded him of life, indefinitely. 

He is glad that these memories of you are still alive and there for him to savor whenever he can. A memory, that’s all that exists of you. But everything you felt, everything you loved, everything you thought and cared for disappeared the day you did.

The sea was calm that day. You looped your arm through his bent elbow, walking side by side on the promenade after leaving the market with your campanula bouquet and a basket full of treats, your steps mirroring each other. Running parallel to the beach, the walk was lined with willow trees swaying in the gentle breeze. Both locals and tourists were sunbathing and engaging in lively conversations at beachside cafes with their bright red and yellow umbrellas. That day felt like a watercolor painting. It felt like blends of soft pigments overlapping in symphonic unity. 

The sea disappeared into the sky, an indistinguishable horizon. He would only make out where the sea stopped and the sky began by the many sailboats savoring the sun that day. Crowds lined the coast. You told him you liked how the beaches of southern Khaenri'ah were pebbly instead of sandy. You said you liked the touch of the cool surfaces — that dried easily and never stuck to your skin — beneath your feet. You said you liked the waves gently lapping against the shore and the rhythmic clatter of pebbles as the water receded. 

The scene would have slipped through his fingers at the touch.

You set your basket aside, the basket full of those peaches, a plump and round watermelon, slices of bread, and a new jar of jam. You took turns sipping from Gisela’s lemonade bottle. A silent agreement: Dainsleif would take two sips and then pass it to you. You would take two sips and pass it back to him. You thought it would be comical to press the cool bottle dripping with condensation to the back of his neck. Only it did not startle him to the point of your expectations. He enjoyed the rejuvenating feeling chilling him down from the hot sun. He laughed. He always enjoyed your little attempts at pranks and mischief, even if they didn’t always (almost always) manage to surprise him.

You threw pebbles into the water. A contest: who could throw it farther. And when that got tiresome, you slipped off your heels and your frilly white socks and dipped your toes in, going so far as only to the line where the teal blue surface darkened, lifting the delicate fabric of your dress so it wouldn’t get wet. With the flick of your ankles and a much devious expression, you splashed him, which sent him into a sarcastically impressed frenzy, and he returned the favor. Your efforts to keep your dress dry left fruitless.

Then, laying side by side on the picnic blanket, sipping lemonade, fingers intertwined with his left thumb drawing circles at the top of your hand, he remembers your whispered words brushing against his hair as the sun set and the grinning moon rose.

When he thinks of those times with you now, those years feel too short. He was a part of most of your life, but you were barely a sliver of his. 

Why would the universe grant bad things to good people? If there were an almighty god, how could he allow this?

The castle walls of the knights’ quarters were sturdy, built out of the strongest of stones. Dainsleif liked calling it home. He had his own room, yes, but not as luxurious as the lord’s chambers— though that didn’t bother him too much. It certainly never bothered you. You had brought your life into that room. 

Soon after the two of you had gotten closer, when Dainsleif finally managed the courage to invite you over for tea, his place began to fill with your tiny trinkets. A delicate china vase of your mother’s, a few books you gifted him in that purple wrapping paper, your very own creation: a watercolor painting. A precise yet somehow simultaneously free drawn sight of a pond with water lilies. They reflected on the surface. A fawn and its mother with their pointy white ears and bent necks drinking the lily water.

You were at a dinner party when you gave it to him. Its title: “Tranquility”. It said so on the back of the canvas, your name stamped by. He doesn’t remember whose party it was. Not the food you ate nor the people that were there. He spent that evening only talking to you. I pianist was there, that he remembers. He remembers your deep conversations, that look in your eyes. Longing, love, adoration. He remembers you wearing an elegant blue dress with matching blue gloves. Your hair was up to reveal dangly pearl earrings. And he remembers the keys of the piano lulling him into drunken love as he folded open that purple wrapping paper to reveal the two deers and their water lilies.

The two of you sat on a cushion by the windowsill. This he remembers because he felt the open breeze trace his cheeks and one of your legs swinging back and forth out the window. Your heels had come off and you left them somewhere. You told him your feet ached and you couldn’t care less where those damn heels were now. He called you crazy and you said thank you.

“I want you to have this,” you had said.

“What is it?”

“Go on now,” you urged him. “Open it.”

And so he did, and he had kissed you. You fluttered your lashes, your cheeks growing hot.

“It’s definitely not one of my best works, but I think something draws me to it. I… I thought you would like it.”

Dainsleif exhaled. The murmur in the room became a distant echo.

“It’s beautiful.”

You giggled. “Alright, stop it. People looking at my art makes me nervous, you know that.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way. You’re a very talented artist.” You blushed more and he continued. “I think people need to see how great you are. You haven’t given them the chance.”

Two weeks later you let your art appear at a local exhibition for the first time. Just a couple blocks away from the beach, the streets were full of old and young couples alike. Kids running around with their kites and ice cream cones.

You were a fan of curiosity, of the expanding universe. It fascinated you. But to say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. You were absolutely terrified. The night before, under many blankets, he held you and you asked, “What if they don’t like it?”

“Then they are fools.”

You settled your nose into the crook of his neck. “If they hate it… I don’t think I’ll show my face in public ever again.”

Dainsleif, who was running his fingers through your hair, urged you to look up at him.

“Art reveals your unique perspective of the world; if others fail to appreciate it, they simply miss the beauty that you perceive.”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling in the dark room. “Do you see the beauty I perceive?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and leaning down to run his fingers down your bare back. You started to giggle, writhing and desperately trying to push him away to stop him from tickling you.

“I’m not telling,” he teased. “You already know the answer to that.”

The chime that hung at the door rang when he entered the gallery. You were too busy to notice him there, busy chatting away with a couple of wealthy tourists from the north who were interested in purchasing one of your pieces. You looked more mature that day. Bright red lipstick, a long skirt, something about wanting to be taken seriously as an artist. He didn’t question it. Thinking about it now, the two of you were so young. So young and so clueless.

He took long steps around the room. It was quite busy. In fact, it had been his idea to offer guests desserts and champagne. The madeleines were a popular pick. He had helped you bake them, and in return, you perfected the recipe.

Five hundred and more years later, he yearns to taste them again.

Your watercolor paintings hung on every wall. Both rich art collectors and simple locals passed Dainsleif. It made him proud to see the room so alive.

He stopped by a less crowded painting. Its only viewer was an old man in a straw hat. The man leaned on his walking stick and took short puffs from his cigar.

Dainsleif greeted the man with a bow of his chin. The man huffed in return. “Boy,” the old man addressed him. “What do you suppose this work is supposed to mean? Titled, ‘Swimming in The Moon’...? The two figures there, how are they swimming in the moon, you say…? And what is that there?” he wiggled his pointed finger. “What do you suppose they are doing?”

Dainsleif thought about it. To him, it was obvious.

“In a figurative sense, they are swimming in the moonlight, not the moon itself. And what are they doing? Well…

… they’re drinking lemonade.”

Now, Dainsleif stares up at the wall, watching his shadow flicker in the candlelight as he bites his bottom lip, careful to hide noises of pain. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, concentrating on the racket of the spinning mill to distract himself from what was most bitterly evident. It is here where Ms. Bai, the owner of the mill in Qingce Village, lets him stay in the spare bedroom of her home sometimes. It is here where Dainsleif knows nothing can hurt him, no danger can be found. He comes here to rest, but quickly, for there is so much more still needed to be done.

When Dainsleif first arrived at Qingce Village, he was a mere passerby looking for some place to crash for the night. He headed to the Stone Gate, but the adventurers coming in the opposite direction warned him of incoming storms. He did not know it then, but those storms would last two weeks. A short time, but a longer time with soaking wet boots.

The old woman saw him out in the pouring rain. Pity, that was what she felt. A humble retirement village, what was a young gentleman of his age doing here? Out and about, so miserable in the ghastly weather?

She swung the door open on its rusty hinges and invited him in. He, of course, politely declined several times. Poor Ms. Bai had to practically drag him inside. It was not until she brought him hot soup and dry blankets that Dainsleif began to feel appreciative, that maybe some hospitality was good once in a while.

“You sweet thing, what were you doing out there? Have you gone mad? Do you want to even imagine the kind of cold you could catch? These people take their health very seriously. We’re old, but we have to make a living!”

Dainsleif could only let her scold him. She was right.

“Oh child,” she said, her eyes falling weary as she took in his condition. “You look like the Archons took you down with their spears and back up again… like you haven’t got any sleep ages!”

If only she knew.

And then she offered him to stay the night, showing him the empty bedroom. Dainsleif did not decline this time. He really was extremely fatigued. He would have offered to pay but had no mora. It is alright, she had said. I don’t need your money. But he insisted on offering almost anything and she declined again. A pattern of rejecting generosity. 

The next morning, she cooked him breakfast. Rice and eggs and orange juice and muffins. Dainsleif hadn’t had a proper meal in ages. He ate it all. And though he expected them, she would not ask any questions. It was only until he came back to the village several months later with great injuries to his physique, blood covering his skin when she subtly brought it up.

“I am not going to bother you, it is not my personal business, but I can tell you need this. So I tell you, if you need to feel safe, you are always welcome here.”

A safe haven.

Years passed and Ms. Bai grew older and her children and grandchildren stopped visiting as often. If she noticed that Dainsleif had stayed the exact same, never aging, she never dared say it out loud.

“I don’t know where you are from. Not from these parts that is for sure,” she smiled, the lines in her cheeks revealing years of happiness. “But what I do know is that you are grieving. And child… grief is something we all feel. Grief is just love that has nowhere to go.”

That is what Dainsleif had learned. Ms. Bai, the old lady and owner of the mill in Qingce Village, had made him open his eyes, had made him discover something he had been blinded to for all of his years without you by his side. Had made him cut up a piece of his mind and soul into an area unbeknownst to him.

The memory of you enters his mind again and he thinks,

As long as there’s grief

I will endure it

because it means

that you were here

and that it mattered.

Dainsleif groans into his bottom lip. He tastes blood on his tongue. The rippling, sharp stabbing sensations coating his torso only seem to escalate with each passing breath. He pants into the open air, trying to steady his shaking hands, gripping the needle harder.

He was attacked in the dead of night. A demented Oceanid creature from the Sal Terrae. He had never seen something like it before. He sensed abyssal magic during the attack, perhaps an escaped exploratory subject.

It took all of his strength to defeat the cruel monster. He stood alone, watching the life drain out of it. But with victory came a price. A physical, painful one.

He bites down harder. If he isn’t careful, he could bite the whole thing off. He sets the needle down and takes his discarded shirt, ripping part of the fabric to put into his mouth. The fabric does well in muffling his torture. It certainly saves his lips from further pain. Dainsleif takes the needle again and punctures his skin. He threads it slowly. Inhale, into the skin. Exhale, out. With his other hand, he holds the skin together to ensure the stitches will stay. Blood continues to drip out, but as he stitches onward, the gash closes.

He’s been doing this for several hours. Ms. Bai is out, probably in the big city for the week. The sun starts to peak out from the horizon. Cranes with their long necks and mighty wings fly across the dawn-lit sky. They remind him of your brush strokes.

“Look,” you had said. “Use a fluffy brush or a sponge to create the clouds. Dip it in white paint and lightly dab it onto the canvas in the upper sections, like this…” You held his hand that held the brush and steered him. “Allow it to blend softly into the blue.”

It was one of the hottest days of the year, and the fan that usually cooled your studio had been broken. You opened the window shutters to let some air through. Below you heard the hustle of morning traffic, of wagons and carriages and distant calls of seagulls.

The two of you were sweating like crazy. It stuck to your skin like sweet and rich honey that no matter how many times you tried to wash off, it would still be there. He made you iced tea in a crystal glass pitcher, and then you sat down on the cool floor to paint.

Dainsleif was too busy looking at you instead of the task at hand. Your skin was tanner than it was before, your hair a little lighter. From being out in the sun too much, he figured. You had on a pair of shorts and a cotton camisole. They were matching, red with white polka dots.

“Dain…” you smiled a toothy grin, raising your eyebrows at him. “Are you paying attention?”

He cleared his throat, noting that he’d been staring for too long.

“Once the background is dry, use a small brush or even a fine-tipped paint applicator to lightly sketch the outlines of the birds.” You guided his hand and drew the shapes. He felt your breath on his bare shoulder and at the tip of his collarbone. “They can be depicted like this. Small 'V's or 'M's to represent their wings and bodies.”

You paused when you felt it too hot to breathe.

“Dain…” you said. “Are you listening?”

And then in one swift motion he tipped you backwards until your back hit the wooden floor, his arms straight and caging you in. The brush you helped him hold fell out of your hands and landed somewhere in the room. He hoped the paint on its hairs didn’t smudge on the canvas nor on the woven rug not far away.

He leaned down to kiss you but stopped just a breath away, feeling the speed of your inhales and exhales escalate with every passing second.

He could tell he was torturing you when you almost let out a whine, tracing your fingers up the nape of his neck into his hair. The sensation sent a shiver through him and he let go of a sigh into the hot air.

When he finally brushed his lips over yours, you both understood that the painting with the clouds and the birds would be forgotten about until later the next day.

The cranes had flown away now, and Dainsleif was on the last stitch. He pulls the string out and exhales deeply in relief. He snaps the excess string and ties it into place. He spits out the fabric in his mouth and looks down. The bed is stained in red. A sight he is far too familiar with.

And so he recalls a bitter winter night when things took a turn for the worse.

“Dain…?”

He hummed.

“I… I read some things in the paper this morning. Something about…”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Dainsleif knew what you were going to say. Ever since those documents came out to the public, everything was quieter. The people of Khaenri'ah were waiting for a train they knew may or may never arrive. He expected what you were going to bring up. He desperately didn’t want to face it.

He noticed that you moved your body closer to his, pressing against him tight. His hand met your temple, his fingers tucking away hair behind your ear. “Shhh… it will be alright,” he whispered.

“Those buildings covered in smog down the coast… I didn’t know they were discovering… that they were using new kinds of alchemy. Are we going to war? What’s happening?”

He kissed the crown of your head as your nose settled into his neck. “My dear, it is too early to worry about that.”

You pushed yourself away to gain some distance, his face getting a better view of your conflicted eyes. 

“But Dainsleif, you knew about this. The Royal Guard, all the knights, the military, the king… everyone but the public. How could this happen? How can this art create new life? Isn’t it dangerous? Won’t there be consequences?”

Dainsleif took a deep breath. You looked like an angel above him, the candlelight casting its glow onto your back.

“Nobody wants war to happen. It will not happen.”

“But you knew. Why didn’t you say anything? This is dangerous. Why did the public have no say? Why were we blinded to this for so long?”

Dainsleif could tell you were on the brink of panic but doing your best to compose yourself. You were a calm person with a calm and caring character. Things never got too out of hand for you to run into the spinning wheels of anxiety. But with the complicated discussion of war, these feelings, for anyone for that matter, were inevitable.

“Dear,” he began, running his fingers up and down the length of your arms to ease your distress. “We, the knights, the guard, are given confidential information regularly. There were only mere discussions of pursuing the Art of Khemia, just a possibility. We did this for protection. I would never hold information from you, even in the utmost importance. What if there is going to be no war… no danger? Why would I expose you to useless worry and fear? Field Tillers have been a military weapon prototype for a long time now. Just as they are in control, Khemia will be controlled too. Things…” he paused, scanning your features with his cautious eyes… “The public’s interest became involved only because things began to escalate.” You shook your head vigorously. You got up from bed and walked over to the closed window. “So, things are escalating? Are we going to be safe?”

Dainsleif sighed and sat up to watch you. You had your back to him, staring out the window and the falling snow as you bit your nails.

“Right now… there is nothing for us to fear.”

Dainsleif, an esteemed knight and the Twilight Sword to the throne with insider knowledge of the monarchy, knew almost as much as you did. He said those words to you then because he wanted to protect you. He wanted to make you feel safe. But thinking back to it, he believed barely half of what he uttered.

If only he hadn’t been as stubborn, as young, and as stupid, he would’ve listened to your cries and fears and fled with you to any universe, nearby or not, so you could have stayed alive. But no one had fully grasped what was to come. No one had predicted a cataclysm.

“Come back to bed,” he whispered.

You turned your chin over your left shoulder. He could see tears on the rim of your eyes begging to break but you would not let them. You had always been strong, up to your very last breath.

He watched the snow fall behind you. They were gentle snowflakes fluttering down in a whimsical dance. They found their comfort on the full pine needles and thick tree branches, the same branches that reflected off that waterlily pond, now frozen. The same branches that watched over the fawn and its mother, sharing nature’s tranquility in the warmer months.

You sniffled.

“Please,” he said, reaching out his arm for you to take. “Come back to me.”

And you did because you loved him. You did because you trusted him. And you laid down on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. He felt your heartbeat against his own. It comforted him.

Why? Because that day you did come back to him. Only one day, you didn’t.

The normally boisterous and charming citizens of Khaenri'ah who had turned into quiet and fearful creatures practically overnight, thought winter would never end.

That year it had been of greater cruelty. Literature that was later left to irrevocably burn had described it as barbaric, with never-ending blizzards and food shortages, waves that crashed into wooden ships and sailboats leaving no mercy on the poor souls within.

Those long months were spent huddled by the fireplace in his room, and the junior ranking knights were jealous, for their accommodations didn’t have such luxuries.

He had been lucky. Thinking back to it, too lucky. With his higher rank, he received much generous support from the royal family themselves. Warmth, money, food, and then salt. Yes, salt was the most important. So high in demand and with the markets shifting, the value rose exponentially. Everything…all of it had been an esteemed achievement, and he swore to be forever thankful for their protection. For him, and of course, for you.

He spent his time at his desk, filling out reports for the time being, occasionally peering out the window to watch the frozen water of the lily pond gain new cracks on its surface. There was little work to be done, just sending unlucky chosen squads to patrol the royal grounds, gardens, and streets. Even that wasn’t necessary, it was protocol, for there were no souls needed watching outside.

You would not say it out loud, but from the look in your eyes Dainsleif could tell you were struggling. Resistance movements of the dangerous alchemy operated from the peaks of the mountains in the Khaenri'ahn north to the shores in the south, ranging from non-cooperation to propaganda. The two of you were watching the world crumbling before you before it had actually happened. To predict what would happen would have been an ancient forbidden art form in itself, but what you were seeing was not far off.

Fear was evident in every street corner, every frozen well, every closed coffee shop, in every third floor apartment, in every humble bungalow. The coast was covered in an ashy, brown-like haze all of winter.

Business was slow. Dainsleif noticed you spending more time helping your family, which mosty included cooking and cleaning the house for them. Then, you would go to the corner shop, and carry whatever food it had left to the knight’s quarters at the right hill of the castle walls. They recognized you, old friends you had drinks with earlier that previous year. Let her in, they said. It’s the Twilight Sword’s fiancée. And when you opened his door and walked in, you saw him hunched over at his desk, pen in hand, staring blankly out the window.

So, it had been a miracle granted by all the gods themselves when the barbaric winter finally said goodbye. Ironic, for all the citizens had thought it overstayed its welcome. A welcome never granted in the first place. 

Yes, he thought, the cruel winter had left, but the branches of trees had not conceived any leaves, nor did they show signs of new shoots ready to grow.

Spring. It was not too cold but not warm enough either. So, when the morning sun said hello to a new day, its rays shining through the iridescent white curtains and illuminating your sweet face in an angel-like glow, Dainsleif had hope.

It had been a gentle kiss, both his and of the sun’s that woke you up. You fluttered your eyelashes and tiredly smiled.

The icy pond in the garden of the knight’s quarters had melted completely, and as the curtains swayed in the breeze, he heard ducklings quack approvingly at their hardworking mother.

You groaned, stretching your limbs, then, in his ear, you whispered, “What shall we do today?”

“I have some things to attend to,” he said, his fingers drawing shapes on your stomach. “But do not worry. It shouldn’t take long. I can meet you down by the pier for lunch today. Would you like that?”

You said you’d love that, and that you would meet him there.

And with one last kiss to his cheek you sprung up from bed and put on a white dress with a long skirt and a red ribbon and matching red heels, looked over your shoulder one last time at him, waved, and left.

While recalling that moment, he screams. He internally screams at himself, for how could he be so stupid to let you walk away from him so easily? Why didn’t he beg you to stay, just for a little longer? Why hadn’t he made you his then, in the early morning hours when the grass still had fresh wet dew? Why had he waiting for so long? 

And he screams at you too. How could you smile like that with everything happening in the world? A monarchy so corrupt and greedy it had no care for its people… all the while he worked for them… he was on their side? How could you leave him when he needed you most? How could you take it and sit there, sit there and take in his foolishness, his failure at being a better person, a better man, a better leader, a better partner?

Because just before the church bells would ring twelve times to mark half of the day, just before most shopkeepers and market staff would go on their break, just before he was to meet you at the pier for lunch, Dainsleif stood at a busy street, waiting for a carriage to pass when he felt the grumbling under his feet.

The next few events are a blur to Dainsleif, something his mind unintentionally wiped from his memory and he doesn’t know why. But what he can remember is the vibrations in the ground, the shrieking, the way the carriage tipped to its side and the horses leapt in horror. He remembers dust and ash falling from the sky like snow. Only the sky wasn’t white like your dress, it was red, with falling rocks too.

There was a deafening roar, rolling like thunder, that he is sure of. There were hot rivers of fire consuming everything in their path, snaking through the streets and parks and homes as women held their crying babies.

The ash obstructed his line of vision, but all he could think about as he ran for the pier was you.

He thought you’d be difficult to find, but there you were, your silhouette flat on the destroyed cobblestone road, and his feet started to move before his mind even registered it. Calling out your name in misery, he reached your side and saw the front of your dress stained the same color as your ribbon, your heels, the sun when it set as you drank lemonade, the current state of the sky, and the rivers of fire.

Dainsleif held your face in his lap, his hands finding their spot in your blood-covered hair.

It was hard to see your body clearly. All the distractions, from the beat of his racing heart to the tears in his eyes. He realized then that he was crying. Dainsleif had been known to be a strong and sensible man. He never cried.

Repeating your name in hushed whispers, he stroked your face gently, feeling the wetness of your own cheeks.

You had been crying too. Dead people don’t cry.

“Wake up,” he said. “Wake up.”

And when you groaned, he cradled your neck to his chest and lifted your limp body up, holding you like a broken bride.

He started walking, as fast as his panicking pace allowed him. Where? He did not know. Somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the smoldering heat, perhaps a way out completely.

“Dain…” you muttered so quietly that he wouldn't have heard if he hadn’t held your face so close to his own.

“You’re going to be alright. Promise to stay with me, okay?”

He held you tighter and you hissed in pain.

“Dain…”

He was crying harder.

“Dain, you’re hurting me.”

Only when he looked down did he see more red marks seeping through the several, once purely white, layers of your clothing. There, right below the right side of your ribcage, through the rapid gallop of your breathing, a sharp, heavy, terrifyingly clear shard of glass revealed itself in the auburn light.

That was the moment Dainsleif lost his first battle to the transcendence of mortality.

He was heaving. Sweat lined his forehead and he coughed up the soot that clouded around you.

“Shhh…” he stammered. “You’re going to be okay. Hold on just a little longer.”

You gripped his hand and tightly clenched it.

“Please,” you whimpered. “It hurts so much. I don’t think I can…”

“I’ll get you out of here, I promise. Just hold on to me.”

Dainsleif recalls hearing more crashing in the background as he ran, buildings and ancient structures full of love and history crumbling down as the archons acted in destruction. Though his hearing, all of his senses, were faltering as the grip you had on his hand loosened slowly.

“Dain, I want you to know that I love you. So much.”

Dainsleif’s head was spinning. He sniffled, shaking his head over and over again.

“Don’t go like this,” he said. “Come back to me.”

Only you didn’t. Your hand dropped its weight, and your eyes, once so full of life, lost their focus.

“I love you too,” he whispered endlessly into your skin. But he cursed himself as it will curse him for all of eternity…

…because you never got to hear him say it back.

Dainsleif, who had cleaned his cut and his tools, packed and stitched up his clothes, was ready to leave Qingce Village. The few escaped rays of light just barely peak out of the robust Minlin hills and mountains when he steps outside into the early Liyuen hours. He hears the wooden mill, weathered and adorned with moss, turning slowly, powered by the force of the current. A creak trickles down toward the terrace farms, where a few villagers have already started their day’s work.

He closes the door to Ms. Bai’s home, remembering to leave some mora he collected here and there on the porch rocking chair, as a way of thanks.

He doesn’t know when he’ll return. Perhaps soon. Perhaps never. Perhaps in another one hundred years. But he has trained his conscience never to get attached to a place for too long. He learned it to be a very dangerous thing.

And so he walks down the gravel path away from the village, onto the next adventure, wherever that might lead him, hearing soft clatter and kettles ringing as the villagers get ready for their day. He sees dew sparkling on the grass in the shade where the sunlight hasn’t kissed yet. He sees a ginger cat cross the path, its rounded face looking back at him peculiarly when his footsteps make a sound, only to run away further when losing interest. He sees purple flowers in a windowsill in a chipped vase, and they remind him of your campanulas. He smells roasted coffee and breakfast spices drifting in the wind.

And just like that, he hums a little song, for the new day is full of possibilities. He enjoys mornings like this the most. They are not cold and not lonely like old winter nights. They are serene. Golden. He feels radiant. He feels hopeful.

And he is like a deer drinking water from a pond of lilies.

Because in mornings like this, he feels tranquility.

♡♡♡♡♡

[crowttore]

A knight's duty - Dainsleif x reader

Note: You're not being paranoid if people really are out to get you.

Tags: Dainsleif x Khaenri'ahn royalty!reader, hints at reincarnation, pining, unhappy ending (like with all Dain's life), 1.6k

He could see how fatigue had begun to coil around you, every movement more sluggish than the previous. The tip of your sword was quivering, your leather gloves taut over the back of your hand from how hard you gripped the hilt.

Seeing the glistening beads of sweat trickle down your forehead almost made Dainsleif feel remorseful about how hard he'd been pushing you lately.

Almost.

With practiced ease, he sidestepped your swiftly descending blade, refraining from countering lest he risk injuring you. The soft contours of your body were never meant to bear the weight of armor, yet Dainsleif's biggest concern lay with how brightly your eyes shone. Surely, there were already plenty who coveted that radiance.

How he wished you would see nothing but peace when it came time for you to reign.

"Captain, can we please rest for today? You're not even focused," your whine reached his ears just before the sound of your sword clattering to the ground.

Dainsleif saw how you rubbed your hands, wanting desperately to erase every trace of callouses and bruises formed under his watch.

"We will continue for the allocated duration, princess. Vary your swings and use your momentum as I demonstrated earlier, this is a duel, not a drill."

A feeling of dread had haunted Dainsleif for weeks, his eyes always lingering in the corners of the palace, convincing himself no shadows trailed along the stone. It had begun with the odd withdrawal of his brother, yet he knew better than to let a single act incite panic. This was hardly the first time there had been disagreements or secrets between the two.

Somehow, this felt different.

His eyes flickered to you, repressing a faint tug at his lips upon being met with a petulant expression as you adjusted the sword in your hand.

"My time would be better spent in the library Dain, I'm no good at this."

"We practice to improve."

With a sigh, he parried your foolhardy jab.

"It's not like war is at our door, besides, I have you to look out for me."

"Being able to defend yourself is never wasted, if anything was to happen-"

A downward slash, easily dodged with your lack of reach. What made him raise an eyebrow was the exasperation in your voice as you interrupted him.

"You're always so paranoid, people are happy here."

He hardly had time to consider his words, speaking them more to himself than you.

"It is not paranoia if people really are out to get you."

It had been spoken so softly, words barely formed in his mind where they should have been confined to. He should have screamed it for all to hear. Perhaps then, things could have been different.

Rarely did he look at the sky, what reason did he have when he yearned to bury himself again, freed from the oppressive stares above. His only solace was knowing you'd fallen before the curse had taken hold.

After so many years, he'd come to accept that his failure to protect you in the initial chaos was the only blessing he would receive from this world.

Dainsleif had once been told that the Twilight Sword, whenever bared, was fated to strike down a man.

But what good had titles, legacies, and prophesies ever done him?

Centuries had passed, yet he still felt the softness of your lips in the apple blossoms weaving through his fingers, felt your caress against his blackened skin in the warm autumn breeze, the color of the sky reflecting your eyes alight with stars when he'd first brought you outside the safety of Khaenri'ah.

Your parents had been surprisingly lenient when they learned of that escapade. Too late did he recognize the muted sorrow mixing with relief in their eyes when they saw your happiness; no doubt they had felt the impending disaster.

The mere notion made him seethe, a dull ache that sat behind ruined flesh in a grim reminder of his own oversight.

Worst of all, he swore he'd seen you, laughing as you spun clumsily around in a field of cecilias, sword clutched too tightly in your hand - just like always - in what was undoubtedly your definition of training.

His knees had hit the soft bedding of moss without his awareness, hand already pressed to his heart in preparation to bow. Or was it merely because something he thought lost long ago suddenly hurt?

Legend told that a scratch from the Twilight Sword would never heal. Dainsleif had never considered if perhaps such a weapon could not be mended either. If that was the price to pay for wielding such power.

How long had passed in quiet observation Dainsleif had no idea, like a petrified fool he'd watched until the sun bathed you in warm gold, feeling greed settle like a fog over his mind the longer he watched. It was to protect you; whoever 'you' were now, he supposed. No one acting so careless should be left alone in the wilderness.

That was the excuse he gave as he remained unmoving, drinking in the enchanting visage as you swung at nothing, swearing some of your movements were familiar. It was predictable how quickly you discarded the dull blade to instead lay down in the sea of flowers.

A soft rustle in his periphery was all the disturbance needed for his hand to twitch at the hilt of his blade, old instincts flaring as he suppressed the urge to call your name. The thought of how it would feel upon his tongue made his stomach lurch in fear, yet it still paled before the image of how you'd turned towards him, blood dripping from where a blade was lodged between your ribs.

Fear, agony, and sorrow. Your bubbly voice had been tainted by the ichor that spilled from your lips, a gargled mockery of his name the last thing to leave you beside sobs.

Three foxes hopped from a nearby shrubbery, bringing his thoughts back as he sighed in relief, a few critters were no threat. He shrank down a little further behind his cover as you sat up and looked around, noting with a small smile that at least your senses weren't entirely dull. Perhaps you spent less time in the library here- Dainsleif pushed aside the thought of how much you'd miss all your old books if you knew of their destruction.

Though there were stars dancing in your eyes as the crimson foxes chirped and approached, eagerly pawing at the bag you'd rested your head atop, they were far from the ones he longed to see; even if he knew it had only ever been a foolish hope. You were someone else. Surely, they would not be so cruel as to-

Ah but why wouldn't they?

If there was a single certainty in this cursed existence, it was the continuous cruelty of Celestia. Dainsleif had seen enough come and go without change to a single constellation to understand.

Dainsleif was well aware of his own folly. Already, he had far overstayed his welcome in the City of Freedom, constantly feeling the eyes of inexperienced knights tracing his every move.

Yet he couldn't bring himself to leave, nothing truly urgent enough that he couldn't justify staying here just as well as continuing his hunt elsewhere. After all, Mondstadt was a vile den of monsters if only you looked closely.

Falling into a routine had been easy, feeling how his being longed to adjust even if it enhanced that crumbling sensation in his mind.

For you, he would endure erosion far worse.

For all his care, Dainsleif knew he was far from infallible, a fact proven time and time again, and so it came as no great shock when he looked up from the glass of apple cider he'd been nursing to see you cautiously peering at him.

"You've been following me."

The liquid tingled as it flowed down his throat, fingers gripping the stem a little tighter than necessary at the way your eyes flickered between his face and hand.

"I want to know why," your voice shook with faux confidence as you sat down opposite him, eyes determined to hold him hostage without any effort.

You'd died in his arms and he had mourned a love that never had time to blossom, suffered the passage of centuries alone, only to be confronted with your voice after giving up on his own desires. Even if he should forget himself, he would never mistake how your lips formed the sweetest of sounds.

The urge to run had lodged itself into his bones and itched for control, locked in fierce battle with the need to grasp your cheeks, soft-looking as ever, and feel the reality of your flesh sinking beneath his fingers.

"I mistook you for someone else," neither truth nor lie, Dainsleif found unfit words gathering quickly and threatening to spill over.

Your eyes narrowed in healthy suspicion, fingers drumming against the wooden table loud enough that were it not for the bard performing, the other patrons would've surely glanced your way.

"You 'mistook me for someone else' for several days? You realise how unlikely that sounds, why didn't you simply ask?"

The rest of the conversation was nothing but a blur as he crossed the bridge, midnight breeze cooling his skin. You could take care of yourself, be happy here, without him and his curse.

Everything he touched was fated to die. For you, his hands could continue to twitch at his sides without relief, tears that he had not expected his body able to conjure could continue to press behind his eyes.

Genshin masterlist

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 17 - Questions and Answers

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Warnings: pregnant!reader, talks of sacrifice and death, mass death against the abyss (cataclysm), mentions of war (cataclysm), one mention of derogatory language, impending death, consumption of vitality (lifespan), decay of human form (Capitano), brief mentions of Enkanomiya lore.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

"Ahh… I am happy to see your plan advance one step further. It seems my cry did not cause irreversible damage." A voice echoed throughout the chamber, much to Ororon's confusion, as he asked about who was talking.

"Just as I thought. The Lord of the Night has awakened." Mavuika's face glazed over with seriousness, observing as a pale starry light emitted from the source mechanism.

The Traveller stared at her with wide eyes, while Paimon asked the questions. The Lord of the Night, ruler of the Night Kingdom. Formerly an angel.

"I preside over a realm of souls. Due to my limited power, sleep is the only way I can prolong my existence." Yohualtecuhtin began to explain, "when you activated the device, I awoke and could not hold back my cry. It is a cry that agitates souls. Mot of you were unaffected because your souls are intact. But, with a damaged soul, the effect on your friend was heightened, and his soul almost shattered as a result. And yet, his soul remains in one piece. He managed to overcome this obstacle through sheer force of will… a truly impressive feat for a human."

Whatever else had happened involved another soul that had been affected. A Khaenri'ahn soul… but the soul was expelled instead of taking over Ororon's body.

Mavuika was left to explain how Natlan's leylines had been damaged in the fight of the descender and the dragon, the Lord of the Night constructing the Night Kingdom to compensate for this, with Xbalanque strengthening it with the rules, the Ode of Ressurection, and the Pilgrimmage.

Yohualtecuhtin offering to rebuild the leylines herself, at the cost of her own existence, was something that Mavuika would not accept, as the seelies danced around everyone. Much to The Captain's fury.

"The people of Natlan will face memory loss, mental disorders and cognitive issues… just like the consequences of using the gnosis, this is a price I refuse to accept." Mavuika left out her fear of possible effects for anyone pregnant too. It wasn't assured to happen, but she would not risk it. Any major distress could endanger their lives.

"Humanity's survival is worth any price. Once the abyss runs rampant, all that remains will be a land of corpses and ruin." The Captain snapped, but Mavuika turned to him, already prepare to argue.

"And when the new ley lines are invaded by the abyss? What then? How are future generations supposed to survive?" Mavuika asked question after question, a fire burning inside of her, how are her children supposed to survive? "A land without the Lord of the Night, without the protection of the rules, is doomed from the start."

"You presume too much. If you cannot ensure survival in the present, you have no right to think about the future. What will it take for you to realise that? How many hundreds or thousands will have to die?!" Capitano growled, turning towards the Traveller as they asked the fated question. Why did he care so much?

"Why? Because I am a survivor of Khaenri'ah! I witnessed the devastation and terror of the abyss with my own eyes. My family, my comrades, my homeland…. were all lost to the abyss. It is an unforgettable pain, one that no amount of time could ever dull… not even five hundred years. You've experienced something similiar, Mavuika. You should know exactly what I mean."

"You're right. The pain, the regret, the catastrophe, they all haunt my dreams to this day." Mavuika's face was stern as the Captain got more and more personal.

"If I could go back, I would reject all false hope. I would do whatever it takes to ensure their survival. You have that chance before that now? Why do you refuse to take it?!"

"Because we don't have the right to make that decision! We love this world because it contains everything we hold dear. Everything that has happened here has moved us, shaped us, and turned us into who we are today. Giving up our memories and history would mean rewriting everything. The people of this world would then fundementally different beings, their physical bodies the only connection to their former selves." Mavuika expressed, her hand over her heart as she spoke.

"Even so-"

"All this arguing isn't good for the baby." Ororon cut in, confusing everyone in the chamber. Xilonen glanced towards the door immediately, but you were where she left you, at Quahuacan Cliff, miles away from here.

"What? I was under the impression from our intel that it was your concubine who was carrying your offspring." The Captain expressed confusion, looking to Mavuika, who immediately glared, not appreciating the eyes on her form, or what the Harbinger just said.

"Do not call her that." The God of War seethed, her anger rising by the second. To refer to you as that, and to reveal the Fatui had intel, they knew of your pregnancy? That you were having the Archon's child? Her babies? How many spies were near the stadium? Did they witness you admit your pregnancy to your parents that day?

"I apologise. I did not know the full circumstance behind your relationship with the girl, but given your anger… I see it is more than what was presumed." Capitano took back his words, watching as Mavuika sighed.

"I'd marry her in a heartbeat if there was enough time and it was safe. Ororon, would you like to speak?"

"Not about my friend… but I once carried the hopes of many people, and I was also desperate to save our nation. In The Captain's plan, I saw a chance to ensure our survival. But as I was on the brink of death, my wish for life and purpose was rekindled. I've been very fortunate to be well-cared for by all the people in my life. I refuse to forget that. My feelings were so strong, they overrode my compulsion to sacrifice myself for their safety. No matter what path lies before us, we still have a destination. If we lose our way now, we will lose the meaning of our existence." Ororon nervously looked between Mavuika, who reminded him of a raging bonfire, and the Captain, who seemed to be deep in thought at Mavuika's confession.

"That's right. Natlan's heroes gave their lives so we could have this chance against the abyss. Their sacrifices are our blessings. Not only are their deeds and spirits exceptionally meaningful, they may also be our path to victory. I don't want to give up just yet." Xilonen added, her eyes burning with passion as Paimon pointed out there was just one hero left to awaken.

Yohualtecuhtin would be awake for some time, allowing people to ask her questions, but also giving Mavuika the option to sacrifice the Lord of the Night for the ley lines rebuilding.

"You must have a profound connection to this land, since you're so determined to save it. But what are you really trying to save? The land? Or its people?" Mavuika glared at the Harbinger, who only hmped at her question, turning to look at the Traveller instead.

The Traveller's answer of wanting to win led to The Captain yielding on his plan. He granted Mavuika to have the Fatui at her command during the war, despite them not seeing completely eye to eye.

"Mavuika… if you have a moment." Yohualtecuhtin called out before everyone minus the Traveller and Paimon could leave the chamber. It was only when everyone had cleared out that the two began to talk.

"Is this about the plan, or what the Captain said?" Mavuika waited carefully for what the Lord of the Night had to say.

"Your twins are not born yet, but they shine like gold. The abyss will prey upon her, but I assume that you are aware of this."

"I will not let anyone or anything harm her, or our children. Even after my plan comes to its fruition." Mavuika confirmed, ignoring the tug in her heart at Yohualtecuhtin knowing about the twins… of course the Night Kingdom knew, but that meant the Abyss knew too.

Yohualtecuhtin sighed in a way that sent an uncomfortable feeling through Mavuika. A pity sigh.

"What of the political uprest that could come after your death and their birth? Will the people respect the rules, or expect your newborns to take the divine throne as their birthright?" Yohualtecuhtin asked, but there was no anger to her words, no frustration or appal that the archon was having a child. It felt more like intrigue, worry… concern like a parent would have for a child.

If the Traveller were there, they would be reminded of Enkanomiya's' puppet rulers, the Sunchildren, before Orobashi assumed control of the land.

"Our babies are as human as I am. All Pyro Archons are humans who ascend after proving themselves to be worthy. If my children grow to become warriors for Natlan, it is because they want to, not because the people feel an obligation to my memory. I am one of many Pyro Archons, there have been many before me, and there will be many after. Our children will become whatever they wish, I have faith in my beloved that they will flourish, and so will she. My regret is that I will not be there to see it." Mavuika confessed, her hand resting as a fist on her chest as she spoke.

This entire conversation was uncomfortable, luckily, it ended not long after that, allowing Mavuika to return to the stadium, while the Traveller and Paimon asked Yohualtecuhtin some questions about Natlan, and Teyvat, the abyss, and the Loom of Fate.

///

With the Fatui now fighting with Natlan against the abyss, Mavuika was able to question The Captain about the source mechanism, and more, with Paimon asking about how he knew about the gnosis. The cataclysm…

"You knew Ayizu, and you fought for Natlan all those years ago. Why don't I recognise you?" Mavuika frowned, letting out a sigh, "it must be the mask."

"Even without the mask, my past appearance is long gone. Even with the curse of immortality, the flesh still rots." The Captain sighed too, but Paimon and the Traveller could only exchange looks, and bring up Dainsleif, who the Captain recognised as carried a degree of pain and hatred that far surpassed his. The Captain then admitted he also would prefer not to harm the Traveller, due to their sibling being Khaenria'hn royality.

The abyss would most likely sense the change in Ororon, and heighten the attacks on Natlan as a result.

Meanwhile, that night, Xilonen and Citlali went to the Lord of the Night for the Traveller's ancient name… finding out that forging an ancient name for an outlander could consume some vitality of the forger, and that Citlali saw Mavuika's impending death in a vision. The price of saving Natlan, one that Mavuika long since accepted.

Mavuika let out a sigh as she returned to her chambers. Her bedsheets were empty and cold without you there, and she didn't get a chance to ask the Captain the one question she wanted to ask. If he knew which Fatui division had hunted your biological parents to death, and why?

Staring at the ceiling, the Pyro Archon shivered, wishing she could hold you instead of the pillow that held your fading scent. At the first sign of trouble, she'd send a division of her warriors and Fatui to retrieve you, and bring you to her side… losing you. That would be the last straw.

///

Chuychu stared at the object in her hand, still wondering why it had appeared under her pillow, and when. It was to be hers, she could feel it. The elemental power… but what had she done to earn it? Chasca got her anemo vision while fighting in the Night Warden Wars. She came back with it, never saying a word on what had happened for it to appear before her.

[airyravenmaid]

As someone who's been secretly teetering around the SAGAU (that's "Self-Aware Genshin AU" for those who aren't aware 🥁) tag and works while thoroughly enjoying a lot of them, I think today's finally the day I put my own two cents in on it. Particularly, my two cents about how a certain redheaded owl stud would act in that verse. By all means, no hate to anybody who's written him any differently in their SAGAU stuff-- we're all here to have fun and junk; this is just how I personally think he'd be. You are free to disagree with any and everything I have to say under the cut, but I will have no badmouthing or the like.

Being perfectly honest, I haven't really seen much of Diluc in a ton of SAGAU works outside of him either being part of the "get the 'Imposter'" mob or individually attacking us if he comes across us solo and isn't in the know that we the reader are the real deal. Basically, he's more or less just kinda lumped in with the other highly devoted followers of the Creator without really standing out much in the plot. And, nothing particularly wrong with that, no, no, no, but here's where my hee-ho funny hot take comes in:

I don't actually think Diluc would really worship the Creator. In fact, I don't think he'd even like us at first. *Sojiro voice* Let me explain!

Diluc Ragnvindr is, in every sense of the word, a disenchanted young man. Now, we know he wasn't born as such, but we have the Knights of Favonius disgracing Crepus' death while the wound was still fresh and the falling out between Diluc and Kaeya upon the latter's revelation as a Khaenri'ahn spy to blame for that. Blah, blah, blah, that's right, we heard the story, over and over again, so, where does this tie into my personal interpretation of his thoughts on the Creator, you may ask? Well!

In the happier, more idealistic years before all hell broke loose on his 18th birthday, Diluc most likely did worship and revere the Creator per his upbringing since I think Crepus also worshipped them like a good chunk of Mondstadt does. No problems there. But, where was the "all-powerful, ever-benevolent" God of Teyvat when he'd lost his father and brother on that same, horrible night in different ways? What did they do when the Knights of Favonius openly spat on his father's name just to save their undeserved reputation? What did they give him during that four-year suicide mission he spent indiscriminately hunting Fatui agents before promptly getting the ban of a lifetime from the entire Nation of Cryo?

Nowhere, nothing, and radio silence.

Just another unreliable let-down added to the list, and another knife to his back.

(Imposter AU-wise) So, come present day, when the Great Big Phony™ drops and takes a throne that very much does not belong to them, everybody's over the moon and pulling out all the stops for their beloved God... except Diluc. Now, he's not so stupid that he openly badmouths the apparent Creator since that would get him some pretty unpleasant looks and land him in rather hot water, so instead, he shows no open reaction while rolling his eyes and scoffing at them wherever people can't see or hear. And, if we're going with the traditional portrayal of the Imposter being an uncaring tyrant, his already diminished opinion of the Creator's image is only further soured. He does nothing to damper or criticize anybody's faith since it's far from his place to, but they certainly won't see him joining in any day of the week, either.

And then comes the "Imposter", who's actually the true Creator that's been jiffy-popped into Genshin's world from the real one. Now, while he thinks it's beyond ridiculous that the people of Mondstadt and the Knights of Favonius (though, not as much surprise for the latter-- always so inefficient...) find it just to hunt down and torture somebody solely for looking like the Creator especially since nobody in town gives a shit that Venti and Barbatos look disturbingly alike for reasons only he (plus Jean and maybe Kaeya, if his Hangout implies anything) knows without actually presenting themselves as an active threat to humanity like, say, the Abyss Order or the Fatui, Diluc still can't help but secretly hand it to the alleged Imposter for being the first to have the guts to knock that "divine do-nothing" down a peg in some way, even if it is considered quite the risky move.

Should he encounter us while we're running for our lives worse for the wear for the above reason (and truly confirming that we mean no real harm and are just a victim of very unfortunate circumstance), Diluc is open to helping us get away safely under the radar and giving false info to the KoF like he did in his Story Quest since getting caught helping Teyvat's most wanted by the mob would not end well for him, either. And, he's pretty amicable when patching us up... but then he sees the dried gold blood and scars all over our body and realizes exactly who we really are. No, he doesn't do a full 180 and start blastin', but Diluc sure is now a lot colder towards us than he already is in general. Still helps us out, but we can taste the sudden mood drop. At some point, we discover his resent towards us for (from his perspective; can't exactly explain that we didn't actually make any of the characters' backstories since we're not HoYoverse and whatnot bc that wouldn't make sense to anyone in Genshin within the confines of the Creator!Reader AU without us sounding completely crazy) being seemingly nowhere to be seen around his and others' suffering despite being the God of All Gods capable of doing literally anything to help it, but simply choosing not to. Even if the Reader rightfully says they didn't do anything, Diluc's cold rebuttal is something along the lines of "No. You didn't.", and it's not the least bit reassuring.

If he were to stick around with us a bit longer during our escape from Mondstadt/whirlwind journey, then Diluc would come to understand that we really weren't as in control of everything bad happening to him or the world as he initially believed, especially if in his misguided blaming, it causes Reader to develop one HELL of a guilt complex feeling like they are responsible for fixing everything if it means putting an end to all the nonsense and abuse some of their once-beloved characters/acolytes are putting them through. Granted, the actual Imposter does have to be stopped and dethroned for all the shit they're pulling, but that's really all that falls on us as the unfortunate hero.

Other than that condition, though, we basically have someone that's thankfully not looking to hunt us down for absurd reasons and even helps us in our need, but at the same time curses us for letting him and many others down by not acting in some way when it mattered most.

[fatuismooches]

Fragile reader helping Dottore's segments do repairs on themselves, only of course they're not too successful or helpful because of their shaky hands and other complications. At first, you're adamant about not doing it because you think you might accidentally actually hurt them, like breaking their wiring, or cause them to short-circuit somewhere. But a lot of them are very good at convincing you (and in actuality so desperate for your attention and touch) that nothing will happen, their design is far too complex for something major to happen that easily! And so begins your poking and prodding into their internal systems. The clones are so much more complicated than those Khaenri'ahn machines you and Zandik researched all those years ago, it's hard not to marvel at their intricate designs. Which leads to you doing silly things like pulling their faces in all directions to get the best angle with a screwdriver in your hand, your face extremely close to theirs. The younger ones are bad at hiding their flustered state and have to bite their tongue to prevent any affectionately rude things from flying out their mouths. While the older ones are more calm about it and find it quite funny to see how you handle them, probably subtly flirting with you during the process. It took a very long time but when you do manage to fix the issue you feel quite elated and proud of yourself. You've still got it! (A little bit. They helped you a bit when you weren't looking.)

[shizuturnspages]

Here's a thought...

Khaenri'ahn child reader giving their captors an abrupt hug. No build-up, no context given, just out of nowhere.

Please and thank you in advance ^^

A Hug in the Darkness

Synopsis: They don’t see it coming. One moment, you’re standing there, stubborn and unreadable. The next, your small arms are wrapped tightly around them. No words. No warning. Just a hug. And each of them reacts differently. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Pierro, Kaeya, Albedo, Capitano x Khaenri'ahn Child

Dainsleif – The Ghost of a Knight

He stiffens—completely frozen.

You feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his breathing halts.

His hands twitch at his sides, unsure of what to do. To push you away? To hold you back?

"What… are you doing?" he asks, voice hoarse.

And when you don’t answer?

He slowly, hesitantly, places a hand on your head.

"This means nothing."

But his grip tightens.

As if he’s afraid you’ll disappear, too.

Pierro – The Cold Strategist

He doesn’t move.

But he does exhale.

A slow, tired sound, like he’s been waiting for something like this to happen.

"You are an enigma, child," he murmurs.

For a brief moment, his hand hovers near your shoulder, as if considering patting your back.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he allows the moment to pass in silence.

And when you pull away?

"Do not expect such sentimentality from me again."

Yet there is something… almost softer in his gaze.

Kaeya – The Liar Who Feels Too Much

He gasps.

Not dramatically, but genuinely caught off guard.

"Well, well… what’s this?" he chuckles, but his voice is strained.

You refuse to let go.

He hesitates. Then—

His arms wrap around you fully, tightly, almost protectively.

"You’re lucky I have a soft spot for cute things."

But his heartbeat is rapid.

And he doesn't let go until you do first.

Albedo – The Observer Turned Subject

His pen stops.

The ink bleeds into the paper as he processes what’s happening.

You feel his head tilt slightly, curiosity flickering in his stillness.

"Interesting."

And then—his arms lift, but not to hug you back.

He’s taking notes.

"Is this instinctive behavior or a calculated attempt to invoke a reaction?"

But when you pull away?

For a fleeting second, his fingers grasp your sleeve.

A pause.

A hesitation.

And then—he lets go.

"Fascinating."

Capitano – The Towering Shadow

He doesn’t react.

Not outwardly.

But you hear it—the way his breath halts for just a second.

The sheer contrast between your small form and his overwhelming presence makes the gesture absurd.

And yet—

His massive hand rests on your back.

No words.

No movement.

But he lets you stay.

For as long as you need.

[professional-spectator]

Please be advised that I do not own Hoyoverse, Genshin Impact, or any associated intellectual property. This narrative will explore mature and potentially sensitive themes, isekai concepts, diverse isekai settings, creation mythology, and the broader realm of fanfiction.

The central pairing of this story is Tighnari x Astronaut reader.

As the captain of a damaged spaceship, adrift and lost in the immense expanse of space, you and your remaining crew discover Teyvat. Unfortunately, your arrival is met with immediate aggression, as the Heavenly Principles swiftly intercept and destroy your ship, causing it to crash within the forests of Sumeru.

Beyond the stars - Chapter Two:

You recall the harrowing reentry into Chekvo 1: Molly's screams, Yoo-silk's white-knuckle grip on his seat. Young Chekvo clutches the photo of the original astronaut team, managing to secure his helmet. Soon after, Yoo-silk and Molly are ejected from their seats, followed by Chekvo. You are left alone, hurtling through space, sky and forest in the mangled remains of the cockpit.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through you as something impales your body, pinning you to the seat. Years adrift in space have weakened you, and the searing heat, agonizing pain, and relentless blood loss overwhelm your senses. Darkness consumes you.

Tighnari and Shirin, bound by a shared oath to protect life, dedicated themselves to the survival of the astronaut. Their patient lay still, lost in the silent abyss of unconsciousness for days, their identity and origins a mystery that hung heavy in the air.

"Do you think they are Khaenri'ahns?" Shirin's voice broke the quiet, laced with curiosity and perhaps a touch of apprehension. Tighnari paused, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I think it's best if we refrain from making assumptions," he replied, his gaze settling on the astronaut's still form. The astronaut's frail physique was a puzzle. Weak muscles, brittle bones, and a violent aversion to sunlight painted a picture unlike anything he had ever encountered in his extensive studies. Days bled into nights as Tighnari and Shirin tirelessly maintained their vigil, their hope flickering like a fragile flame. But on this day, the threads of fate began to shift. Shirin had ventured out to gather vital herbs and medical supplies, leaving Tighnari alone in the quiet room with the astronaut, who, after what seemed like an eternity, finally stirred from their deep slumber.

Every inch of (Name)'s body screamed in protest as they awoke. A blinding light forced them to squint, their eyes struggling to adjust. A soft, low voice drifted through the air, speaking in a language utterly foreign to their ears.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs. A dull throb pulsed through (Name)'s body, a constant reminder of their pain. One thing was clear: they were no longer on the ship.

"@$&#&"

The strange sounds echoed in the room, a complete mystery to (Name). Panic began to set in as their eyes darted towards the shadows that clung to the edges of the room. With a groan, they attempted to sit up.

"@#$&#&," the soft voice repeated, accompanied by a gentle hand on their shoulder. (Name) looked up, their mind still clouded with confusion. The last thing they remembered was eating those damned mushrooms. Standing before them was a man unlike any they had ever seen. His skin was fair, his dark green hair, streaked with lighter shades, fell to his chin, the roots a stark black. His eyes were pale, the pupils fading from brown to a vibrant green. But it was his other features that truly captivated (Name): large, pointed black ears and a fluffy tail in two shades of dark green.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity that even pain couldn't suppress, (Name)'s trembling hand reached out, drawn to those strange ears. The fur was sleek but short, surprisingly soft, reminiscent of a dog's ear. The scientist in them couldn't help but wonder what bizarre evolutionary path had led to this creature before them.

Tighnari's brow arched, his gaze fixed on the individual before him. A strange warmth bloomed in his chest as they reached out, fingers brushing against his ears. He didn't mind the touch, not really, though the person's boldness was certainly... unexpected. As they lurched suddenly, attempting to rise from the cot, Tighnari gently captured their hand, guiding it away.

A stumble, a near fall, and Tighnari found himself holding them steady. "You're very curious," he murmured, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. "I suppose you can't help it..."

With a gentle lift, he settled them back onto the cot. They were so frail, so weak. Then, a string of unfamiliar sounds filled the air, a language utterly foreign to Teyvat's diverse tongues. Tighnari made a mental note to consult Alhaitham; the Scribe would likely find this intriguing.

"Ah, I am unfamiliar with this language?" Tighnari began, choosing a slow, deliberate approach. He pointed to himself, enunciating clearly, "Tigh-na-ri."

He repeated the gesture, tapping his chest. "Tighnari, I am Tighnari."

You watched him carefully, then offered an introduction, doing your best to enunciate clearly. A wave of fatigue washed over you. The long journey had taken its toll; despite your rigorous daily exercise, your muscles felt weak, your bones fragile. You silently repeated his introduction to yourself, trying to memorize the unfamiliar sounds.

"(Name)."

Judging by his puzzled expression, a language barrier stood between you. Panic began to prickle at the edges of your awareness. Where was the rest of the crew? You didn't know it yet, but you were alone, the sole survivor of a disaster you couldn't even comprehend. You tried to gesture, to communicate your confusion and disorientation, but your clumsy movements only seemed to deepen his perplexity.

Tighnari raised his hands slowly, a gesture meant to soothe more than command. "Relax..." he murmured, the words barely audible, directed more to himself than to (name). "I know you have many questions..."

He studied the astronaut, a being so alien to his understanding. What was (name)? What had they endured in the vast expanse from which they'd fallen? All he knew was that they were the only one left. The sole survivor of a tragedy he couldn't begin to fathom.

"I suppose we need to take it slow..." The words hung in the air as he made a mental note, another request to burden Alhaitham with. He needed help deciphering this mysterious language that (name) spoke. He'd already briefed Cyno on the situation: the strange debris scattered across the forest, the lifeless bodies, and this lone survivor. From the wreckage, amidst the twisted metal and shattered dreams, Tighnari had salvaged only one thing: a photograph. A faded image of a group of smiling faces.

He held it up, his finger gently touching the picture. "Is this you?" He pointed to a figure in the photo, a healthier, more vibrant version of the person before him – a ghost of the (name) that once was.

(Name) nodded, immediately using hand gestures to communicate. Tighnari didn't fully understand what they were asking; he wasn't a linguist, but he had an idea. He pulled out a notepad and a pen, handing them to (Name). (Name) spoke in their language and then drew a picture of four people: themselves, a woman, and two men, followed by what Tighnari recognized as a question mark.

"You're friends?" he asked.

(Name)'s eyes lit up with hope. Tighnari hated to be the one to break the news. He took the pen and crossed out the three figures, leaving only (Name) in the picture. Looking away, Tighnari whispered, "They didn't make it."

Tighnari looked back at (Name), and tears welled up in their eyes. He knew they understood. A plethora of hand gestures, and drawings, (Name) had done their best to explain who and what they were to Tighnari. He was able to piece together that they were from beyond Teyvat. (Name) and their friends had become lost among the stars when their ship was brought down by some sort of deity. In essence, (Name) was an alien. (Name) stared at the hand-drawn picture of their crew, realizing they were lost thousands of light-years from home on a strange world, with (Name) as the sole survivor.

Tighnari inhaled deeply, the scent of fungus and damp earth doing little to settle his racing thoughts. (Name) was an alien, a being from beyond the borders of Teyvat, a secret that weighed heavily on the Forest Watcher's shoulders.

The implications were staggering. Should the Akademiya, with its insatiable thirst for knowledge, discover (Name)'s origins, the consequences could be dire. Accusations of possessing forbidden knowledge would be the least of their worries. Tighnari shuddered at the thought of the scholars' potential experiments, a notion he doubted even the Dendro Archon would condone. But that wouldn't deter everyone, would it?

Cyno, ever vigilant, was aware that they had found a survivor. But even with Cyno's position as General Mahamatra, Tighnari couldn't be certain if he could truly safeguard (Name). What would Cyno ultimately decide? Tighnari's loyalty was clear. As a Forest Watcher, he had sworn to protect all life within his domain, and (Name), with nowhere else to turn, now fell under his protection.

He leaned closer, doing his best to convey reassurance through careful enunciation and deliberate gestures. The weight of his secret, and (Name)'s safety, hung in the air between them.

"You are safe, (Name)," he mouthed, hoping the words carried the weight of his promise.

To be continued