Chapter Text
“And you wanted to help him, I assume?”
Of course I do, Lumine thinks to herself, letting the constellation disappear. Of course she does. Aether is her brother, her best friend, her anchor. She never wanted to see him so hurt again, never wanted to see the anguish that she saw on his face when they found Lakia’s body for as long as she lives. Certainly, she never wanted to be the cause of it.
She just wanted him to be okay. She just wanted both of them to feel okay again.
“Of course,” Lumine says with a nod. “I… he’s my brother. Even when everything else fell apart around us, even when we were driven out of worlds or chased by their inhabitants for being outsiders, for being different… Even when we lost- lost mom-” her voice hiccups, but Venti, if he notices, doesn’t mention it. “-and Lakia and Arissa and everyone, we still had each other to cling to. To hold the other up when things got bad. But he just kept pulling further and further away from me. Smiled less. Shared less. Grew more and more paranoid.
“I kept reaching, but… he never reached back. So it was like I was dealing with all the problems he didn’t want to face alongside my own, and... and I couldn"t handle that.”
As the words leave her lips, there’s some wild, wound-up part of her that wants to move, so she stands, tugging at her hair. Trying to ignore the growing ache in her heart.
“Even if I had a chance before, I’ve… I’ve crushed it under my foot now. Maybe if I just tried harder, pushed more, then… then maybe things wouldn’t have gotten bad as they did. Maybe I could’ve gotten him to listen, or stopped any of this from happening in the first place, but now I’ve gone and- and utterly destroyed our relationship, and now he’s never going to forgive me for betraying his trust, is never going to listen to why I chose what I chose and-”
Venti’s shoes appear in her vision, stopping her.
“Hey,” he says, loud enough to catch her attention, as he puts his hands on her shoulders. Lumine stops, tensing a little under them, but doesn’t look at him. Just keeps staring at his shoes. “Listen, Lumine. It’s not your fault.”
“What isn’t?” Her choice to side with Aether and lead the Abyss? Her choice to turn a blind eye to what was happening to Dvalin, until the guilt consumed her? Her choice to see Venti as an enemy rather than anything but, and try to kill him before she ever got the chance to know him?
“The choice your brother made,” Venti says slowly, making her mind briefly go blank. “It’s admirable that you want to help him, especially considering all that happened, but… you were grieving too, weren’t you?”
She nods, after a beat, raising her head up just enough that she can meet his gaze, just barely. She was grieving. Still is. Likely will be for the rest of her life, the way she still grieves mom’s death even some seven hundred years after it happened. It knows all too well how to make a home inside her.
“Everyone deals with grief differently, especially in a situation such as that,” he continues quietly, his voice a mere whisper. “You were dealing with your own grief, and you shouldn’t have had to bear your brother’s grief as well. You tried to help him nonetheless, but the choices your brother made aren’t fully your fault. In the end, devoid of any outside influences or not, the choice your brother makes is solely his own, as are any consequences and results thereof.”
“I know,” she whispers, and she’s not quite sure to whom; herself, or him. “But… he’s still my brother. I still want to help him, regardless of his choice. I still feel like I could’ve done more to help.”
Venti sighs, something soft and pained. “Guilt’s funny that way, isn’t it?” He finishes in a mirthless voice. “All the "what-ifs" and "what you could’ve done different"-lies…”
Lumine nods, inhaling the scent of seasalt to try and clear her mind and soothe her heart. It mixes with the scent of Cecelias and alcohol clinging to Venti, and it’s… a nice scent. A scent she could keep breathing and not get sick of.
But it also reminds her that she still has a story she needs to finish, no matter how much she wants to put it off in fear of the answer, of any anger bubbling to the surface, of waiting for the second shoe to drop. Venti isn’t that kind of person, the rational part of her brain knows, but the rest of her is still waiting to be proved wrong.
But, if nothing else, Venti deserves that from her. Whatever happens after she finishes the story is solely up to him and his judgment.
Venti still has his hands on her shoulders, and a part of her wants to pull away from the touch, but she can’t bring herself to do so. So Lumine sighs, trying to figure out where she wants to start the story. And in order to talk about that, she needed to confront her own role in hurting Dvalin, which she hates just as much.
“It was just sabotage, at first,” Lumine starts, licking her lips, looking down from his gaze, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. Keeps her voice steadily detached, void of any emotion, trying to push them all down deep within her. “When… when Aether had seen what happened to Dvalin after… after he woke up, he decided to take advantage of it. Thought that…”
Her voice waves, and she curls her hands into fists, feeling her nails bite skin as she tries to speak past the screaming voices in her head telling her to stop. “Thought that… that it would draw you out. But then I wound up in Mondstadt when Dvalin attacked, and… well, after that, I got dragged into… all of this. When I met Amber, I panicked and made up a lie saying I was in Mondstadt to look for Aether. She had just given me my windglider when Dvalin attacked, and things just sort of… spiraled.
“So I decided that while I was waiting for the right moment to make my escape, I could at least sabotage the Knights, or at least find a way to delay things. But then I met you and- and you and Jean both kept talking about killing Dvalin and how he was hurting and- and this feeling of guilt just kept piling up inside me and I started to doubt myself and-”
“Lumine, breathe,” Venti’s voice cuts through her thoughts again, and she blinks and huh, she is actually feeling a little light-headed right now. Knees wobbly and vision darkening a little. “Just breathe before you pass out.”
She also realizes that he’s holding her hands again, sitting on the ground, prying her palms open. There are bloody half-moons on her palms. When he tugs on her wrists, she lets him pull her to the ground again. The sand is warm under her legs.
Venti’s patient as he waits for her to recompose herself, but when she dares a glance up at him, his face is stoically devoid of any emotion, a flat, empty look in his eyes, not too dissimilar to her brother’s gaze these days. It makes her pulse race, stomach twisting as her mind conjures up all the myriad sorts of things it could mean, all the things he’s thinking that he’s not letting her know. Guilt crawling up her spine and grabbing her by the throat, throttling her to try and keep her from talking, from damning herself any further.
I don’t want to fight you.
I want to be able to trust you.
Will you trust me?
Look me in the eyes. Do you not find me trustworthy?
It’s not that she doesn’t want to. If anything, it’s the opposite.
She wants to trust Venti; trust that he won’t lie to her, that he really does care, that he’s not going to attack her. She wants to. Lumine wants to be able to trust him so much that it terrifies her, because she’s only ever wanted to trust one other person like that so much in her entire life.
It’s rampaging against the years-worn instinct of not being able to trust gods, of losing so much to them that she can’t trust them, that sooner or later they’re going to turn on her and stab her in the back.
With Venti, she drove the knife in first. He has every right to turn around and do the very same thing to her, every justification for it. He has a valid reason not to trust her; all she has is half the facts, years of grief and anger and bone-deep paranoia.
But at the same time… part of the reason she chose him was because he was so different from any other god she had known before, hadn’t it? He genuinely cared about his people, genuinely wanted to help them. Hell, he said it himself that he never wanted to be a god in the first place.
Her mother said those that don’t want to rule always make for the best rulers, because those who would kill to rule might do just that. A ruler who wants to rule oftentimes has some sort of ulterior motive, while those who don’t are far less likely to get corrupted by greed and the taste of power.
“...I didn’t realize you were Barbatos, at first,” She finally continues, staring blankly at her palms. Watching the blood spread across the skin. It doesn’t hurt. She thinks it stopped hurting long ago. “Didn’t realize until Starsnatch cliff, which is ironic, considering how in hindsight, you were terrible at hiding it.”
That gets a tense, breathy chuckle out of Venti, which both eases and tightens the tense knot in her stomach.
“Such as?”
“All those little things you know that I feel like an ordinary bard just… shouldn"t have.” She shrugs. “The location of the Holy Lyre despite the fact you didn’t work for the Church, the way you talked about Dvalin as though you knew him when an ordinary citizen had all but forgotten about him, and then saw him as an enemy. Even the fact you looked so much like your own damn statue. From the moment I met you, you were sending off all these alarm bells in my head. Only… all those pieces never clicked until Starsnatch cliff. Or… maybe they did, and I just… never let myself see it.”
“Why not?”
“By that point, I had already known you for some time, and I just…” She shrugs. “You never struck me as a godly sort of person. A god in how I would envision one. Powerful and intimidating, commanding the attention of everyone around them with a single step. Able to change fate and destiny in an instant. A looming, suffocating sort of presence that demands respect. Commanding attention, maybe, but only because you’re also a bard, where attention is the name of the game. I guess I couldn’t comprehend my view of gods with someone like you.”
“And I don’t fit that view, is what you’re saying?”
Lumine nods, as Venti seems to take a handkerchief and wipes away the small bits of blood on her hands. “You never have. That’s why I couldn’t… I’ve hardly ever met other gods like you, gods that care, that… that actually give a damn. They’ve all been arrogant bastards, tyrannical rulers or disconnected from their own people. It’s truly admirable, Venti.” She can’t help the way her voice drops to a whisper, as if sharing a secret between the two of them.
“All you preach is freedom and kindness, and… it was inspiring, I guess. And everyone in Mondstadt is so dedicated to keeping that, keeping the freedom and keeping the peace and keeping people happy and safe. Even though you’re not really ‘there’ as a god, Mondstadt… still believes in you. There’s no fear or disdain there anywhere.”
If it was any other god that would’ve said that, she never would’ve believed them.
The color of your eyes is like the sky in my hometown.
No gods or kings or rulers. Just freedom.
“I… I feel safe around you, Venti, and that… that fucking terrifies me, because there’s still that tiny little part of me that’s… that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I think I hate that more than anything.”
“So that’s why…” Venti mutters, and he sets the handkerchief to the side, taking her hands in his own again. “In that case… I’m glad to you that you think of me like that, and… I’ll try my best to not break that trust you have in me.”
Then, he reaches up, wrapping one hand around her waist and the other around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. A shaky exhale escapes Lumine as she reaches up, gripping the fabric of his shirt, burying her head in his shoulders, shudders wracking her body, combining with a wave of exhaustion that sweeps over her.
For a few minutes, he just holds her in the way she did the night previous, his fingers playing with and carding gently through her hair. Each stroke sends a bone-deep shudder down her spine as he hums softly to a tune she doesn’t know, yet seems to match up with the crash of the waves against the shore.
“So what are you going to do next?” He finally asks, voice quiet. As if he’s afraid to break the peace that’s fallen over them.
“I want to know the truth,” Lumine mutters, feeling a certain twist in her heart. “I… I don’t want to fight Aether. But… I want to know the truth about what happened, about this world, before I can make any concrete decision on what to do next, who should receive what sort of judgment. The real truth. No lies. No being told what"s real and what"s not. And I… I think I need to talk to the other Archons about… about all that. Otherwise I’m just going to keep stumbling blindly around in the dark.”
Venti nods, and his grip around her seems to tighten. “Okay. I can’t promise that it’ll be easy, especially considering that there are truths to this world that some people might not want to be revealed… but if that’s the path you want to take, then I’ll be right there with you.”
“Thank you,” she says, and she thinks she should pull away from the hug but she really doesn’t want to. She wants to keep chasing this moment of peace for as long as it lasts, this break after everything is all said and done. Even if everything goes to shit between her and Venti… she thinks she’s willing to bear whatever pain may come from allowing herself this moment.
“And… I’m sorry, Venti. For lying to you and… and hurting you and Dvalin. I know it probably means little but I truly am sorry.”
Venti pulls back, a hard yet sorrowful look in his, hands clenched in his lap. “Thank you. While I… I can’t quite forgive you just yet—you were still trying to kill me, after all, and Dvalin was hurt because of you—but I’m willing to give you a second chance. It is, after all, a… bit of a complicated situation, and things aren’t so black and white as I think either of us would like them to be.”
He shakes his head, closing his eyes, and the slump to his shoulders seems to grow deeper. Heavier. “The whole situation with Khaenri’ah is… complicated, to say the least,” he continues slowly, a certain tense tone to his voice. “Unfortunately, I can only say so much, and… I wish I could tell you more, but… I can’t. Not right now. I would if I could, but I can’t, and I’m… I’m sorry about that.”
There’s a certain emphasis on that word, can’t, and it makes her stomach twist to know Venti still might be keeping things from her. Whether of his own violation or, from what it sounds like, forces greater than him… it leaves a foul taste in her mouth.
But he’s also willing to give her a second chance, something she doubts any other god would do. It was the last thing she expected from this encounter, after all. And more than that… there’s fear in his voice, there. By now, she’s seen him sad and happy and drunk and even angry but not afraid, and Lumine doesn’t know what to make of that information.
So… if Venti is going to put his trust in her like that, then… the least she could try to do is keep that trust. It is a two-way street, after all, no matter how much that tiny, scared part of her is still telling her that trusting Venti with all of this is a terrible idea.
“Fine. I’ll let you keep your secrets for now,” She mutters, forcing her eyes to meet his, and she can see the mixture of relief and frustration in them.
“…Why are you giving me a second chance?”
“Pardon?”
“I…” She starts, stops. That vice grip wrapping around her throat again, making it hard to get the words out. “I hurt you, Venti. I hurt your friend. I… I lied to, and… and almost got you killed. So… why give me a second chance? Why me? What… what do you see in me?”
“What you see in yourself, Lumine,” Venti replies, and he leans forward again, putting his hands on her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re the one who made the choice to try and be better. To let go of the anger and fear. Despite all the pain you’ve been through… you’re still willing to listen to the other side, am I wrong?”
Gulping, she tightens her grip on his clothes, feeling very small and vulnerable right now. Exposed for the world to see. “I… I guess so…”
“Then that’s all there is to it,” he continues, voice soft and alluring. “The best character arcs in stories are the ones where the protagonist makes the volitional action to change for the better, regardless of any sort of redemption or forgiveness from others or lack thereof. So if you want to try and be better for the sake of no one but yourself, even my opinion shouldn’t matter.”
But… if you really want to know, it’s simple. Because I like you,” he says. “Even before today… you were so brave and strong and beautiful, and… there’s just this pull about you. Something special I can’t quite describe that caught my attention from the moment I met you. You’re very interesting, you know.”
She flushes a little under his words, lingering guilt mixing with some sort of pride. Beautiful? He thinks she’s beautiful?
“Is… is that so?”
“What’s that face for?” Venti says, a teasing tone entering his voice. “Aww, is someone embarrassed?”
“Shut up!” Lumine whines, and Venti chuckles, calming and sweet.
“Come on, there’s no need to be shy,” he replies, pinching her cheek, and she swats his hand away. He goes for the other one instead, though, pinching it quickly before splaying his palm out on her cheek.
Then, before she can realize what’s happening, the bard leans forward, pressing his lips to her cheek. It’s light and soft, barely anything resembling a kiss, but she freezes nonetheless, feeling heat flood her cheeks.
When Venti pulls back, there’s a slight red flush to his cheeks, too, a nervous yet soft smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
“Are we okay?” He asks quietly, licking his lips. An uncharacteristic hint of nervousness to his voice. “Because I’m willing to start over if you are.”
Lumine gulps. Her pulse is racing, and just that simple action has her wanting more; even if she knows now is the absolute worst time for that.
“Me too,” she agrees quietly.
Venti nods, sliding his hand into hers, and gives it a single squeeze. For a few minutes, the only sound is of the waves crashing against the shore.
“I think your best bet from here would be heading to Liyue,” Venti finally says. “The Archon who reigns there, Rex Lapis, administrates his entire region personally, unlike me. But he only descends once a year to give his divine predictions which sets Liyue for the rest of the year, and the next Rite of Descension should be in about…” he frowns for a moment, holding up his hands and counting on his fingers. “Two weeks, give or take. In any case, we should go as soon as possible. If we miss it, you might have to wait another year.”
Lumine nods, before his words catch up to her brain. “Wait… we? Why we?”
“Because I want to spend more time with you, obviously,” Venti says. “Not to mention it’s been far too long since I’ve seen that old blockhead, since I’ve been so busy with the whole Dvalin incident, and I’m long overdue to annoy him.”
Lumine has an inkling feeling that there’s more to it, more that he’s not saying, but… It’s also a question she doesn’t feel like she wants to know the answer to. Either way, she’s not quite sure how she feels about Venti coming along with her so soon after… all of this. “What about Mondstadt, though?”
“I think it’ll be okay. They’ve thrived for years without me there before. A few weeks of traveling won’t make much of a difference.” Venti says, shrugging.
She frowns, though, mind flashing back to Aether’s rage. If he noticed Venti was gone, would he try to attack Mondstadt again, just to hurt both of them? The thought makes her stomach turn, but she has to consider it.
“Aren’t you worried about any sort of danger it might face while you’re away, though?” She asks. If he hears the name she’s not saying, Venti’s kind enough not to comment on it.
Instead, his lips thin, bows pinching. “While I can see the validity of your concerns, chances are, it won’t be a problem. Generally, Mondstadt’s been a peaceful nation since the aristocracy ended, and any potential problems they may face are generally hilichurl camps and treasure hoarder groups and the occasional rogue Fatuu. If you count this whole thing with Dvalin… there’s only been three instances since I became the Anemo Archon where my people have faced a danger or a problem they can’t handle that needed my direct interference to solve.
“Even with half the knights out on the expedition with Grand Master Varka, the rest of them are well equipped under Jean and the others to handle any problems. The Fatui have likely gotten what they wanted from me, and now that they’ve also lost their edge to diplomacy now that the Dvalin incident has been solved, I doubt they’ll be causing too many problems anytime soon. And… If something does happen, I’ll know about it pretty quickly. The wind tells me a lot of things, after all.”
Lumine frowns, but relents. “Okay. If you’re that gung-ho about it… I guess I can let you tag along.”
“Thanks,” Venti says. “Searching for the truth… won’t be an easy journey. But believe me when I say I want to help you, Lumine. So for as long as you choose to walk down this path, I’ll walk it with you. I believe in you.”
At that moment, a loud growl cuts through the air, and heat creeps up Lumine’s cheeks when she realizes it’s coming from her own stomach.
“Sorry,” She mutters, but Venti’s already chuckling.
“Sounds like someone’s a little hungry,” he says, getting to his feet, brushing sand off of him, before extending a hand to her. “Come on, it’s getting late. We should probably get something to eat.”
Taking Venti’s hand, Lumine raises a brow. “And I assume I’m paying for the food?” She asks as he helps her to her feet. Her knees wobble a little, numb from the position she’s been sitting in for several minutes, but recovers quickly enough.
“And you would assume correctly. I haven’t gotten a coin of mora since we repaired to Stormterror’s lair,” he replies. “But I’ll cover it next time, I swear.”
“Hope that’s a promise you’re prepared to keep then, bard.”
Venti grins, something wide and cheerful, pulling at the corners of his eyes, and all Lumine can see when she looks in them is warmth and the color of the sky in her hometown.
There’s a lot left unsaid, she knows. Whatever sort of secrets the godly hierarchy of Celestia holds, the concealed truth about Khaenri’ah, even her way forward. Lumine still isn’t sure if she’s meant for this world, how to fix her relationship with her brother, if it’s something that can even be fixed in the first place, or if the other Archons are like Venti or more aligned with the gods she knows…
But, for now, she thinks it"s okay to trust Venti. Everything else is left up to fate.