#pwanw

Even lakes and rivers converge to form a new entity while unlucky bastards such as yourself have not been blessed enough to change. People call it the axiom of equality, was it? x will always remain x and after so many times, you are back to be part of this blank nothingness. 

It isn't that you actually remember how many times exactly or that there are markings on a wall to remind you of countless failures. Emptiness you've come to realize is scarier when it is not dark. When there are no shadows and bells, no voices that call out to anything or anyone - that is true nothingness. 

Waking again - ache and tiredness felt - just to be in this white canvas is excruciating. If your x is nothingness, how many times must you go through this and open up the doors in search of something? Maybe if you simply refused to get on your feet and walk around this time, the entity that wakes you up would decide to move on and find a new play thing? 

Your mind seems to be as confused as the soul that lives in every atom of your body. Were you tasked with saving someone? Saving the world? Was it perhaps revenge that wants something important? Were you trying to save yourself even? It feels like it has been years at this point. Leaves and snow have switched places with blossoms countless times while you were wandering in this fucking nothingness. 

Blank. Pale. Without shadows or doors this time. 

Surely, giving up is the only option now even if you aren't sure what would be slipping away. 

"Oh you poor thing. You must be exhausted after so many defeats." 

That is new. A voice other than your own finally inside of this space. Would hope make you helpless now? Hallucinations aren't out of the question either. The mind finds it interesting to play tricks on its host. 

"If I knew how many times I have failed, something tells me I would feel even worse." "I know the exact number. Would you like me to say it?" "Obviously not. Was that not clear from my earlier response?"  "You've always said one thing and then done another. All humans are a paradox somewhere from my perspective."  "Must be a fun perspective when you are forced to hide away and keep me here."  "You have failed over a hundred times already and nothing about your attitude is helping you right now you know."

How petty. She said that on purpose to get back to you. "Nothing is forcing me to be nice to you."

"And exactly nothing is forcing you to make so many mistakes. The same nothing that is making you enjoy the idea of relinquishing everything you gained so far because you got tired. I am not the one keeping you here."  "What are you doing then?" "I have been tasked with guiding you."

That makes you snicker. 

"Guiding me? It seems we are both failing at our tasks." "That just proves you know nothing about the gravity of the situation. I will not argue with someone lacking in knowledge of this world."

"You just di-" Sunlight seems to hit your face before you can finish that sentence and that feeling of feeling washed by it makes something in you wake up. Unbridled sadness takes the shape of a ray that tries to climb towards the sun. 

He moved like sunlight. Washing over the forests and the lakes, even the distant mountains in his hue that grew stronger and stronger every single year. 

Wait..he who? The only reason your eyelids try to look towards the source of the sun is because that way tears would not fall. You would be crying over someone you don't even remember.

"Has that managed to refresh your memory?"  "I would appreciate it if you could speed this up. Something about this dance of yours is not making me feel pleasant."  "You haven't forgotten yourself. That is the most important part to me."  "How kind."

You can feel something dropped on the ground behind you. First, you move your knees to help you sit up and after that you rise. 

"If I see one more door when I turn around, I will find you and make you regret it." "If I stop acting like your guide, you will never leave this place. Just know your empty threads do not phase me." 

How annoying she is. You pray that when you turn on your heels it will not be another door and - to your big surprise - it is not. 

"Do not feel so relieved at this. The fact that I cannot guide you towards a door right now proves we are on a dangerous path to you vanishing." "Is that why I can also hear your voice right now?"  "Precisely."

Perhaps this voice is just another part of you trying to force a way in? Your 'guide' did not manifest a door but she seems to have manifested a pedestal used for museum exhibits. As you approach it, you see that there are exactly four of them that extend in a straight line. She will make you walk to each of them, surely. 

The first pedestal seems to hold envelopes and paper. You cannot read them because of the haphazardness in which it exists inside the glass but you are able to catch glimpses. 

Some of these are completely yellow, other white. There are a few stains on the ones in the corners and the writing seems to belong to multiple hands. Confident and smooth cursive is right next to insecure and clumsy boxy letters. There are no signatures to give away the senders or what they might have written about but you can see a few blots. Was it rain on tears that made these spots so ineligible to the point where you are unsure there even is meaning in deciphering a few letters from the words? 

Then, there are crumbled papers that have been straightened again, some never even got that far because you can see a few burn marks. 

If all of these were written to one person - they must have been loved on a level unknown to most. To have so many hands pen them with the same family stamp must be proof of unyielding love. 

"I wish I was loved like Ajax. I would always know by his eyes when his siblings would write. Once, he lost a letter and I was the one who found it. I always had to thank him for everything - that was the first time he thanked me."

"Finally. You remember one of the key things we need to open the door. Who was he to you?" "He was a knight."

And that answer feels wrong. Yet, nothing else besides these traces is on the surface. He was a knight to everyone, not just you! The answer is wrong and you feel like you are undermining an entire world for not having something else. 

"Not good enough." The first pedestal disappears and your stomach crashes into the second one because even the blank space seems to be in a rush.  "I need you to stop relying on what you know. Look at that and tell me what it makes you think of."  "This? It makes me think of children that play games."  "Why?" "It is a wooden sword with dried mud on it. What else is it supposed to make me imagine?" "Have you ever seen it?" "I have not..." 

The wooden sword is almost on the cusp of falling apart. Dust would suit it better than how it is right now. The handle is darker than the tip and somethink akin to mold seems to be spreading on it. Do kids play this hard with swords? Hard enough to leave grip marks? 

Again you are missing something. Something is escaping you. These depths of your senselessness cannot be penetrated by the sun. You have to help yourself now. What are you missing? What crucial thing?

Your head is touching the glass now and your breath is making it fog up. Impatience was never a virtue but it seems to help you right now. 

"Is... is one of those spots actual blood? Did- Did he kill when he was still so young?" 

The voice does not respond to you and that itself is answer enough. It isn't just your breath that gets in the way now, a few tears fall down. 

When did his childhood end? When did Ajax lose his innocence that other kids were allowed to keep and carry for maybe even a decade longer than he had been fortunate enough to? Perhaps he lost his innocence when he had to use a false name for the first time in his life. Perhaps he lost his innocence when he had to take the oath to protect knowing just how much blood could be part of it in the future? He wasn't playing like other kids, he was destined to do this.

All of those thoughts are there as distraction. You know he lost his innocence the first time he used this sword to kill. And yes, he told you that the first creature he killed was an animal but it doesn't lift up your guilt. Somewhere inside of your blood the guilt flows. 

How does a child feel when he has to kill something with a wooden sword he used for practice all that time? He probably threw it away afterwards. Danger requires sharper weapons. 

Your voice is strained and something is salty on the tip of your tongue. 

"Make this disappear. Make it go away. Right now. I don't want to-" "The fact that you don't wish to remember is what forced my hand and taken away the key. You haven't forgotten yourself because you cannot forget him." 

The voice replies and you cannot find it in yourself to respond because she is kind enough to let you walk towards the next pedestal. 

Are things in this space supposed to repeat? Maybe this is what you do. Repeat things just enough so that small parts are changed. The next pedestal holds papers once again but instead of them being cramped up and constrained - there are only two papers with an envelope behind them. 

Unlike before - you are able to read the words now. 

One of them is written like a short letter. A notice - a certain person claims they have found your secret. You do not know who they are or who the words are addressed to but apparently this secret would change everything and create chaos. A royal seems to have married a commoner despite being engaged to another kingdom's ruler. What makes your heart drop is that this letter is related to the paper next to it. 

A wedding certificate with your own name next to his. Was this the secret they were reporting on? Was this a crime that caused the attack and raid? It cannot be. 

In that instant, you see a vision. Something about the room is familiar to you, a tall imposing figure with shades of blue stands in the middle of the room while Ajax's glowed hand which is hiding a ring raises up and up. There is no sunlight in his eyes and you wish to pour it in somehow. The dark room, the other person not speaking - it is all too much. Suddenly, a light sparks in them.

The wedding certificate before you starts to disappear. In the vision - Ajax throws it into the fire to appease and protect like he always has. 

"Assure the king, I was and always will be, nothing more than a simple friend and knight."

He did not betray you, he protected you in that moment. You are sure of it. Still, the realization of this makes it hard to breathe and your brain keeps trying to tie it all.

That other man in the room must have been the one to blame. It doesn't matter if he wrote the letter or if he was the king. You finally remember enough to rush towards the fourth and final pedestal. 

This one will always be recognizable. It is the sword he carried for so long. The sword that protected you but that marked the day he told you to run and meant his end. 

Because you recognize it, you have to get to it. You have to break this glass and take it into your own hands. Vengeance screams and the space seems to be getting smaller - you only feel it because it continues to look the same. 

Desperate fists make the glass break and you are able to grab the sword. At that moment - you know what you have to do. A door opens and you fall through it - rage seeps in and you are not aware where it opened or where it is leading you. But you see that face, the one you need to confront. 

There is no white space around you anymore. You will use this sword to fulfil your own oath made on the dawn after he threw his life away. Golden light was your witness and since he moved like the sunrays, you will have to apologize to him for not having enough grace to carry on in such a way. 

You rush, you stumble. But you can fell that soon your feet will hit the ground. And then, you will come face to face with the man who took him away from you. He worked for that king. The name does not come to you but his face does. 

The light disappears and you don't hear a voice.  Thud. 

Your feet are on the ground and this sword will be used to strike the enemy. He will stand before you once you open your eyes. 

There is no hesitation. Before your eyes are open, your feet are moving forward. This is it. This is the moment you have been walking towards even in that white fucking space.

Except, it is not the enemy that greets you. 

It is his eyes. His hand because you would recognize those small blue veins anywhere for there once was a ring next to them. 

Your Ajax is standing in front of you, leaning against a building. There is not red that surrounds him but there is a sunset that lights up his lips as he takes a puff of his cigarette. 

"Took you long enough." 

Is the shine slowly coming back to his eyes, or is it just your imagination?

a/n: Hello everyone!! Yes, it is not two characters but just one this time. My apologies but it has been so long since I have written anything and Childe simply came calling me. I realize I started this ages ago and it not even halfway done but please enjoy! Kazuha is the next character but i am not making promises when that will happen.

If you are able to make the connections by crumbs i give you - feel free to tell me about them!

TAGLIST: send an ask to be added

Who does that voice belong to? You have no recollection of it. You feel weaker than ever and instead of answering, your knees betray you and end up on the maroon carpet instead. The person doesn’t sound dangerous but your body is just so tired. 

Someone’s boots stand in front of you now. They’re looking down, their gloved hands quickly reaching for your shoulders.  

“Why did you rise out of bed in your state?” 

Your state he says. If only you knew what it was that was dragging you down. Something tells you he holds the key to the hope in figuring it out, so, as he effortlessly picks you up and places you on the bed again, you look up at him. A glow flashes across his face when you do. His eyes remind you of sinking ships.   It seems like he is waiting for you to say something. But all you can ask is: “Who are you?” 

His eyes betray him again. Worry so deep swims in them that you feel completely safe in his presence.  

“I should have known you fainting out of nowhere was more serious than he told me it was. Have you completely forgotten everything about me?” 

Yes. Yes, you have. It doesn’t matter how much your head hurts while you try to remember, no memories of him come to the surface.   He kneels down and takes your hand. Lips brushing against your knuckle. The subconscious tells you that this has happened before.  

“My name is Diluc Ragnvindr. The people here know me as their Lord but you...” he trails off. Something is bothering him; he seems unsure in what to say next.  

“But you know me in truth. Or, at least you have known me so. This might shock you but I have to give you my full honesty. You know me as the creature that I am – a vampire.”  

His words should make you want to flee. His lips were cold, his touch felt the same as the silk sheets you woke up in. There were no questions about his honesty. But for some reason, it seems that your body and mind are not shocked by this revelation.  

“I... see.”   “We are under a contract that you signed by your own will. I will show it to you as soon as you wish.”  His gaze is on your completely but his thumb seems to be rubbing circles into your knuckle absentmindedly. His touch soothes you.  

“I have heard of memory loss occurring in rare instances but complete memory loss has never been recorded...” He says it more to himself than you. 

“I must apologize to you. I can’t help but think that this is my fault. Please get some rest. And please eat the food that the maids bring you.  

He kisses your knuckle again, lingering for a second longer this time around and he walks off seemingly angry at himself. And when he leaves the room, you feel a prick on your wrist. Two prominent marks greet you; they seem fresh. This must be what he is angry at. If you fainted after these were made, it all makes sense.  

You did as you were instructed. You rested, ate the food that the maids brought up to your room and your strength was slowly returning. Not by a lot – but at least you were able to stand up and take to the dinner table that night. When you walked in, Diluc and you were seated on completely different sides of the overwhelmingly stretched out table. He seemed so gentle that morning, now he seemed distant enough to make your soul ache. Why?   You wondered if you two always sat like this. You or, well, the person whose body you took over.

“I have decided to nullify out contract until your memories return.”  

You were barely eating and that made your knife stop.  

“I see... but, I am afraid I do not remember anything our contract states.”  

A butler suddenly appears by your side and slides the said document in front of you. It should be signed in someone else’s name, a name you have no recollection of, the name of this body you are borrowing and yet; what stands there in black letters is your own signature. Next to it is a fingerprint of red ink. Or was it blood?  

“It states that you willingly signed it as I told you before. It also states that in return for your silence regarding my identity and..”, he stops for a few seconds but then continues, “and, in return for your blood every week, you get to live here with enough funds to support your family.” 

Your family he says. And you have no way of knowing just who is your family in this world. Something about the whole situation seems bitter to you and without thinking you blurt out a question.  

“If said contract has been nullified, does that mean I can leave?” 

This time it is his knife that stops moving.  

“You wish to depart from here?” (‘You wish to leave me?’ Your subconscious tells you that is what his questions really means.)  

“No!”, you are quick to blurt out. “I just... I apologize. This whole situation is a lot to take in.” You completely stop eating. Diluc seems to not know how to reach you over the table.  

“Sir Diluc, I have another question.”  “There is no need for you to call me Lord or Sir. You may not remember me, but I will not allow us to return to such titles. Please ask what it is you wish to know.”  “Diluc, can I sit next to you?” 

The butler that still stands near you seems to let a smile show. A maid on the far end of the door reacts too.  

And Diluc, in the softest voice you had heard that day, says that you may.  You don’t speak for the rest of the dinner but somehow the room feels warmer than before.  

A week passes and you are unable to remember things you would title as important. You manage to remember (or your brain forces images into your mind) of hazy fields of flowers and moon filled nights. Sometimes Diluc himself shows up in your memories. At first, he is a child running around with a wooden sword and in the very next memory you see him filled with insurmountable grief. For what?You have no clue of knowing but you have decided to trust this man – this vampire – enough to believe the answers he gives you.  

He says that you grew up in the same place as him but that you always stuck to the background, so much so, that Diluc admits to have no clear memory of you before you helped him by willingly giving your blood in an alley one night. He says it was your kindness of not letting him starve.  He says you were kind enough to save a monster but the few hazy memories assure you he is no such thing.  

Next, you ask him how he became a vampire. Diluc had hope flash across his eyes this time. You used the word became; you must remember that he wasn’t always like this. Your memories must be slowly returning to you. Instead of confirming, the reply you give is that it is an obvious thing if you had said you witnessed him as a child running under the sun.  

He says he was grieving for the death of his father and that somewhere in it he got lost. So lost in fact that he abandoned his duty for a while and ended up meeting those that turned him into a monster.  

“I was towards the end of my journey and instead of turning away, I latched onto a lead to find the man responsible. For revenge. It led me to a place of evil itself. In saving that young boy, I took his place instead. I was too weak and too immature back then. I let myself be captured and they...they turned me into what I am now.” 

After that week, you slowly watch Diluc lose his strength. Every day that passes, he grows paler and he avoids you more. The dinners start to become a lonely occasion with only your form hunched over a table. The candles that light up such a lonely place make your eye twitch before you take the first bite. 

Your strength is returning but Diluc seems weaker than you were when you woke up on that first day.   It makes sense – this arrangement was agreed upon because of his ‘needs’. The needs he absolutely hates. Nothing hurts you more than to see Diluc hate himself while also holding back so much that it means self-destruction. 

Instead of allowing that to continue – you tell Adelinde that you demand his presence at dinner. And he obliges your wish.  

It only makes you mad to see how he moves and avoids your gaze. When you talk and he instinctively wants to look at you – the second he sees your neck or hands, he looks at the plate. There is no light in his eyes. His hair is dishevelled and no matter how far back he moves his chair or face, you can make out the purple under his eyes. He seems so hollow, so distant in both mind and form.

“Diluc. You will listen to me.”  “Your kindness stays the same even if you don’t remember it all. I already know what you will say and my answer is no. I will not allow you to offer yourself to me in this state. Once you remember me and this arrangement – only then.” 

His servants know the que of when to leave the room.  

“What if I never remember Diluc? What then?”  “You will remember.”  

His answer is solidified and he continues to stab food on his fork. You can tell how it seems to be almost painful to smell and swallow. He is only forcing himself. You slam your knife and fork down on the table and glare at him. 

“You cannot guarantee anything in this situation besides your own suffering if you continue to deny this request.”  

Diluc calmly puts his own cutlery down.  

“My answer is still no. There are other ways to help this need of mine that don’t put you in danger.”  

You sit in silence for a while.  

“Diluc, I know I cannot help myself remember if I do not help you. If your...bite was what caused this, maybe it could be the way to fix it. I want to help you of my own free will, if you refuse me, you are denying me that choice.”  “Do not use such rhetoric with me! No matter how you word it, the act of taking your blood now would be vile. Eat your food so that we can end this conversation.” 

It makes you mad. His stubbornness makes your blood boil and by the way he barely swallows down that food which probably tastes like nothing to him – you can tell that this blood rushing within your veins makes it harder for him.  Instead of backing down, you extend your wrist onto the table in his direction. 

“Please Diluc. You’ve trusted my judgement before, trust it again. I cannot remember anything if you destroy yourself.”  

You can tell that he is battling with himself and how drastically different thoughts come to him. The instinct vs. the rationality. Diluc removes his gloves for the first time you woke up in this world, he holds onto your arm and pulls you into him. He kneels down. 

“I am so sorry.” He kisses your marked wrist gently and repeats his apology once again. “Forgive me for this, I beg of you.”  

You don’t think that there is anything to forgive when he whispers a plea at your feet. When Diluc’s fangs sink into your skin, your blood rushes again. The feeling is warm. His love for you is so warm that your theory proves to be true. 

All of the memories come rushing back. It is just too bad that the same feeling takes over you once again. You faint before you get to tell Diluc just how much you remember; before you can tell him ‘I love you’ for the first time and God knows which time.

AYATO - THE STRANGE MAN WHO HIDES BEHIND YOUR MARKET STALL WITH A POLITICAL SECRET. IF YOU DON'T REMEMBER HIM - EVERYTHING HE HAS IS FOR NAUGHT.

This time, you feel something shake underneath your feet. It is light enough not to worry you about an impeding disaster, but this can never be a good sign. Especially not now when you are conscious of how the air and the temperature and the ringing in your ears suddenly feel. For some reason, your hands are full. Up in the air in front of you. You are holding something – you feel the weight. And this heart of yours is beating fast. Why? Is it because you just switched places or because this body’s heart was already reacting to something?  

You open your eyes. It feels like you were blinking for a very long time. In front of you is a man with a sturdy red helmet and big moustache. How unsightly. How filthy. You would like to say he is standing in front of you, but he is leaning over; his face inches away from yours.  

Could he be the cause of this fear?  

“If you are lying to your official, I will have your stall seized. No, I will have it destroyed in front of your very eyes before I shackle you as an example for everyone here!” 

This man is so angry that you realize it is his anger, from his feet to his spine and finally to the words he is spitting at you, that are the reasons for your fear.  

“Do you know where the man who just ran through here went?” 

You should be scared, but you know you will honestly answer his question. Right now, there is nobody as lost as you. You have no idea who said man is or who anyone is at all.   So, with honesty and calm, as your heartbeat starts to finally take on a more steady rhythm, you extend your hands in front of this man.  

“Sir, I assure you, that I have no idea about the man you are asking about. Look at my hands. I am here selling these oranges, selling my fruit. Every single day. I truly have no idea who you are asking me about.” 

The man peers at your face for a couple of seconds more before he steps back from your stall and spits on the dirt next to it.  

“Tch. It looks like this dirty peasant is telling the truth.” With that, he instructs his subordinates somewhere else. You didn’t notice them before – you didn’t notice anyone before. With him gone, you are finally able to take a deep breath and curse this magic power that seems to put you in such situations. You could have been jailed without ever knowing why.   With a sigh, you put the two oranges back on the pile on the side. While you are glad you didn’t end up behind bars, it seems like there is nothing else to be glad about in this circumstance.   And just when you were about to weep, something makes you freeze. Something is grabbing onto your leg from under the stall. It is pulling or pushing – you aren’t sure. With a quiet gasp, you quickly swing your leg back to get away. The space is narrow so you end up only taking two steps before your back hits the wall.  

It isn’t a creature that grabbed you – it is a hooded figure crawling out. You catch sight of their hands – they look way too soft and white to match the clothes this person threw on themselves. They share the same rags you are wearing but immediatelly you know they are just treating this as a disguise. They are hiding their identity and you can only beg that this isn’t the person those officials were asking about.  

“Do not look so scared. Nobody noticed when I jumped into your stall because there was a crowd. But if they see your reaction now, they will suspect something is wrong.”  

You finally see his face. His eyes look silver in the shadows and his gaze seems so cold. His voice is almost a whisper, flowing quietly and reassuring you that he knows more about this than you; it is almost like he commands you under the advice. You find yourself reassured, so you step back from the wall and approach your fruit again. Surely pretending that you are inspecting it for any dust or damage will be a normal picture. Surely you can ignore the man still sitting down in the shadows who only crawled out for a bit more space. His limbs are long and he eyes your approaching form. Maybe you should just kick him or run after the officials and report him?  

With that thought in mind, you start inspecting the apples first. They are the fruit that gets damaged easily. You can tell that he doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, but you refuse to communicate with him. The less words you exchange, the better it is. You wish there were customers right now, but they have probably lessened in number because of the officials barging in. They are probably the same reason the few ones here are avoiding you. Something tells you that your peasant self will be forced to only eat a few pieces of your own fruit and two spoons of broth.  

Having someone watch you do such a mundane task proves uncomfortable, but you refuse to speak a word to him. But ignoring him further proves itself to be even more difficult. Instead of leaving or saying a word himself – his hand reaches up and grabs the seventh apple you planned to expect. What an impatient man! You can already tell he will be frustrating beyond your initial thoughts.  

You don’t turn your head in his direction. You only let your eyes follow him as he bites into the apple with such zest you think back on kicking him. Instead of ignoring that thought for the second time, you actually do use your foot to hit his side. He doesn’t drop the apple nor does he jump up, he just looks at you with a puzzled expression.  

You put your hand out, smile coldly and whisper: “Only those that pay get to actually eat the fruit.” 

You expect him to swat your hand away, to perhaps kick you back. But all you see is that his shoulders start to shake. His hand quickly covers his mouth, and with the way his hood falls back from the motion, you realize that this handsome man is laughing at you. He is laughing at you like a child would.   It makes you huff and turn around from him completely. The sunsettias deserve your attention more than him. And as you swat away at a fly that is buzzing around them, you decide to imagine him as the fly.   Even if you moved away, one step makes no difference so you can still hear his apology. It is mixed in with the same rhythm of his laughter that only lessened. You refuse to acknowledge him.   This frustrating man decides to send a gold coin rolling your way so that it hits your feet. You sigh. He did pay. You should have told him that only upstanding citizens not getting chased by the government get to actually eat the fruit instead. Still, you pick up the gold coin. Your hand reaches for it before you can think it through.  

“You really are fond of this street-seller persona you have. I apologize for disrespecting such a..dedicated..establishment and-”  “Leave. I do not need your apologies. This is not a persona, this is my life. I need you to leave so I can continue running this ‘dedicated’ establishment someone of your caliber clearly didn’t ever visit before.” 

You look calm but the venom spilling from your tongue is enough to ruin any respectable business. You still aren’t looking back at him, but you can feel how his playful nature dies down. It feels like he just lost something important.  

“I see.” Is all that the man replies with. His voice sounds devoid of emotion at that moment.  Another golden coin hits your feet. He reaches for a sunsettia in your hands and throws it out into the street. Before it hits the dirt, you hear a soft ‘I am deeply sorry.’ again, and the next second someone screams on the end of the street. Everyone looks that way; the blue-haired man puts on his hood, jumps up over your stall and he is gone just the way he appeared. Something in you, suddenly, feels sorry for not getting his name. But then you shake your head thinking you are simply sad over the fact that you won’t get to name the annoying fly after him.  

After that, the sun starts to slowly set. With the new atmosphere, the old shoppers get replaced by new ones and these actually approach your stall to buy something. Kids in rags worse than your own excitedly reach for the fruit you extend. The parents behind them smile, probably wishing they could afford something more sweet and more grand to their child than just apples or oranges. But, they hope it is enough to make their child happy.   The money they extend is no gold, no silver. It reminds you of worn down pieces of metal, almost rusty. You take it as quickly as you can and wipe your hand after collecting it. These conditions of poverty make it clear to you – the man from before was of much higher prestige. Associating with him would be even more trouble than you initially thought.  

Those thoughts leave your head as someone lightly taps on the wood in front of you. It turns out to be a blonde man with warm eyes and a kind smile. He extends one silver coin to you and speaks.  

“Could I please have all of the apples on your pile here. I am buying them for the children at the orphenage you see.”  

You know he is telling the truth so you smile back. He isn’t wearing rags like the rest of them, he seems to be someone of a higher status who is sincere about helping others. 

“Right away Sir!” 

You rush to place all the apples in three bags. He is patient, but he watches you work in a similar way to that man. It is only when you go to hand him the third bag that you realize why that is.  

“And here, the last one. I hope the kids down there are alright.”   “Thank you for your kind wishes. If you are really worried, you should come visit sometimes. No need to bring anything, playing with them is enough you know and...”  

He trails off, grabs your wrist with an iron grip.   “Do not get in the Young Master’s way. Betrayal is the worst thing you could do.”  

Before you can recover from shock and ask him what he means, the kind expression is back on his face and he is holding all three bags in his arms.  

“Until next time!”  

His tone is cheerful again. It makes you shiver. You look towards the sunset more beautiful than anything else today.  

“The one who decides about your life is asking you a question. It seems like you feel no need to answer me, Mister Soto.”  

With the sunset as the background of the scene, the blue-haired man is sitting in a small room with an infamous merchant of the city. His rags have been long discarded. With the game of play pretend completely done, he takes his authoritative position. He looks so out of place to be in this dirty hub – the details decorating his outfit only remind someone how higher he is above them.  

“Why should I answer you Mister Kamisato? You have already decided what my life will be.”  “Yes, but unlike you, I am fair and follow the law before I sentence someone. The political games of you and your brother in the parliament that only enhance this country’s poverty rate are coming to a close.”  

He slides the piece of paper across the table. This is what the government officials were after when hunting him in disguise. He said he followed the law when sentencing someone, not in obtaining information. Only the man guarding this room, brushing off an apple, knows of the whole ordeal.  

“You are supposed to be just like us! You are supposed to see that living stock as only dirt. With this new plan, we could have had it all. So what if we lied in the parliament? What if we forged documents? You and the rest of the members were never supposed to know!”  “You have only made yourself an even grander fool if you truly think you and your brother are able to outsmart us all. Not to mention - to outsmart me.”  

The merchant only has anger and resentment to fall back on.  

“Thoma, escort this man to our forces. I have more pressing matters to attend to.” 

Thoma walks into the room and restrains the man.  

“The street seller does not remember you, Young Master. I am afraid to say your suspicion is true.”   “That is not a problem. The persona I assigned them on this assignment was executed brilliantly. Perhaps, with my words, memories can come back.” 

As the night starts to fall and other sellers begin to pack up, you realize there are worse things than hiding a fugitive or getting threatened.  

Your predicament is the worst one of all. At first, you counted yourself lucky when the other merchants eyed you with jealousy for that one silver coin. Then, you started to pack up your stall, but as they started to leave, you realized; you had no idea where your home is.  

Where do you cook your food? Where do you lay to rest? Fuck, where do you even get these fruits from? Do you have a bed? Do you have a family? Where do you live? And where should you go?  

No, that is not right. And the despair of it all makes you realize it. All these questions have answers, but they are answers about someone else’s life that you acted out. And that is it. You are an actor, something that doesn’t belong here. And yet, you feel so alive and ruined as your eyes start to tear up.  

What is it that you are? Where do your memories begin and end? What is this constant fragmentation and feeling of isolation? You aren’t supposed to be here. Where is your home?  

The thoughts come too quick and they keep looping. Your cheeks are wet with tears. And, even if you are the only seller left in this dirty alley, you weep silently. As if it is in your nature to do so.   And it makes you shake. This whole thing overflows within you with only fear and confusion showing their ugly nature.  

But suddenly, in the darkness of it all, you feel as if the moon is extending it’s silver glow your way. Yes, the moon is colder than the sun but it keeps you company. It is solid and constant. It does not abandon you.  

The moon’s rays are someone’s hands around you, rubbing soft and slow circles into your back. They’re kneeling beside you, unafraid to get dirty as you cry into their chest.  

The world starts to make sense again. You can hear the person’s soft voice whispering reassuring words into your ear.  

‘It is okay. You are safe.’ and ‘Worry not, I am here. I assure you.’ and ‘Cry it out.’ and ‘You always manage to get my clothes dirty like this and then you proceed to chastise me about it.’ and ‘Let me help you.’

The fact that he smells like light mint helps to calm you down further. Your whole body relaxes and your breathing gets steady once more. His blue hair and strong arms holding you, in this proximity, calms down your heartbeat.  

The air is sharp but it grounds you. And his hands are still rubbing circles into your back. 

“It is not fair Ayato!”  “I know my dearest. I know.” You are not sure how you know his name suddenly. You are not sure just what it is that you are screaming about and calling it unfair. But it doesn’t matter. He is still here. Reassuring as ever. Steady as ever.  

“I shouldn’t have let you join the Shuumatsuban like this. But you kept insisting.”  

What is he talking about?  

“And now look at us. I am a fool in love, bending the knee for you, while you do not remember me. This is the first time I regret listening to you.”   “Oh shut up. You stupid, stupid, frustrating man.”  

Ayato laughs again. It is not the carefree laugh you saw earlier today, it is more bitter.   “You don’t know, but you like calling me those nicknames often. Don’t you find it unfair, darling?”  

You are not sure what you are supposed to find unfair. His behaviour or yours? This whole situation perhaps? The fact that you are in the embrace of a man, reacting to his presence so strongly, when earlier today you kicked him under the stall? When you did not know his name?  

And just what are you in this world? Are you really a peasant? What is the Shuumatsuban? You don’t know. Something tells you that this is limited. But even with those thoughts, you are calm.   You stop crying, you focus on him instead. Something overtakes you as you extend your hands to cradle his face.  

“Ayato.”  “Yes my love?”  “I will find you again.”  

You feel exhausted. But before it overtakes you completely, you seal that promise by placing a soft kiss on the underside of his lips – on his mole.  

Somehow, you know, that has always been your favorite place.   And with that in mind – you slip away like the moon.

Thanks to those moments, you were somewhat acquainted with the true situation inside this small kingdom you were supposed to rule later. Your parents ignored the complaints and problems inside, but every outing with Ajax helped solidify the true state of it inside your mind.  

You were supposed to ascend the throne later. Ajax was supposed to stand by your side as the trusty knight he has always been. Your kingdom was supposed to prosper. Ajax was not supposed to die.  

That thought comes back again! Your determined steps take a small detour. By now you are away from the shining lights and faces of the citizens that spelled the doom of your bloodline. But Ajax’s blood belonged to them; not to your family and certainly not on the carpet and the walls underneath your castle while he helped you escape.  

Ajax should not be dead right now!  

But he is. And you have been unable to cope all this time. That is why you are crouching beneath a tree; taking deep breaths and trying to calm yourself down.   Inside that bar hides your only hope of vengeance. You have spent three years searching for any trace of that infamous informant. You know nothing besides that he frequents this establishment and that for a good price, he is willing to give you the name of the one who struck down Ajax. 

With that renewal of hope inside your soul, you finally rise to your feet and pull the hood over your head before continuing down the dirty path. There are no lights that lead to that bar, only some footsteps in the middle of a grass field and you hope they are trustworthy enough.   The money you paid did not lie. After an hour of walking through that forest, you finally found a house which had a worn-out sign. ‘Rowdy Dog’, the name of the bar that stood between you and your purpose.  

Pulling your hood again, you opened the doors. You were sure that if you did knock, they would immediately throw you out. Luckily, they currently happened to consist of just three quests and a bartender. With that quick scan, you decided that immediately getting a drink would be the next best choice.  

The chairs were squeaky and uncomfortable, but you sat in one right across the bartender. Your contact told you that he was the worst kind of man to deal with. And looking at him; confirming his size and build and that long hair which people said he used to mask a particularly bad scar from his shoulder to his stomach; you know the contact was right.  

The other guests didn’t pay you much attention and you doubt they even noticed you from how drunk they were but he... his eyes were already telling you to leave. It seemed like he was doubtful of your purpose and hoped a warning by rejecting to speak first would be enough to get you to turn back.  

But your quest for revenge was greater than anything else and you could certainly deal with a bartender before your informant got here.  

“Whiskey.”  

You noticed everyone you dealt with to get this far ordered that drink so surely it would prove you knew how to dabble in this line of business.  

The man turned around and put down a glass and a bottle of whiskey on the counter in front of you. Him not talking was unnerving.  

“Are you so clever not to pretend you saw my cue telling you to leave or are you so dumb that you choose to stick around.”  

Him speaking was already starting to give you a headache.  

“Just pour me a glass and ignore my presence.”  “This is my bar; by extension, it is my house. If I put down a bottle and a glass in front of you, it means that you have to pour it yourself.”  

You never thought such a deep and smooth voice could cause you this much annoyance.  

“Is there a reason why your particular business model is so prejudiced towards me Sir?”  “Yes. You are too soft hearted to set foot in this place.”   “It is none of your business what I do here.”   “Would you like me to kick you out right now?” 

Your informant was right. For a man that ran the bar most frequented by assassins and criminals with bounties on their heads; he was too dignified and moral. So what if you are a young person that never killed anyone? You swore to only use your sword on the person who killed Ajax and nobody else.   Still, you had to get on this man’s good graces or your new informant would never trust you either.  

You poured yourself a glass while thinking that it was necessary to put up with this for just a while longer.  

“Are you happy now?”   You were about to bring the glass to your lips but before you could, the bartender took everything in front of you and placed it behind the counter.  

“At least you are willing to bluff where it doesn’t count.”  “What is that supposed to mean? And the way you are running this establishment is horrible!”  

The man pinched the bridge of his nose and then he glared at you.  

“Meet me in the back in five minutes.”  “Excuse me?”  

He didn’t even dignify you with a response. He simply walked away and slammed the door behind him. You suppose nobody would dare to steal from him. But, why should you wait five minutes? You decided to immediately follow him instead. 

Outside, he was standing leaning against the wall with a cigarette in between his fingers. You approached and he was kind enough to blow smoke in the opposite direction. 

“I see you do not even possess patience.”  “Why are you acting this way towards someone you never met so far?”  

The man took in another puff and leaned his head on the wall as well looking up at the bright moon.  

“An innocent soul was never supposed to step foot into that bar.”  “You made it what it is. I don’t think you get to choose who steps into it or why.”   “Little one, you are so wrong about everything you have done tonight. Tell me, does the atmosphere inside that place fill you with any joy?”  “No. I don’t see how it could fill anyone with joy.”   “Wrong again. And that proves my point.”  

This man was incorrigible. Your head was staring to hurt more and more but something about him wanting to protect innocent people reminded you of Ajax. You decided that for the sake of your dead friend, you would take off your mask for a few minutes.  

“Do you think I am innocent even if my family caused poverty and death in this city?”  “Yes. Did your own hands ever do anything? Those guests inside are filled with joy by knowing everyone else in there has killed and felt blood on their tongue. It makes no sense to you; that violence.”  

How horrible. How could you not lay down your mask when this man seems to have a natural ability to disarm people?  

“Tell me, is the reason you are here revenge?” He says it nonchalantly, but his eyes look at you with a plea and a hope that you will say no. 

“It is. I have someone who was more innocent than me and they died by people who said they were seeking justice.”  “I would say that you too wish to protect innocent souls, but the dead do not need protection. Why not turn around and start something new like I did?”  

His cigarette is finished by now and he dims out it’s last light by stepping on it. 

“Something new? Isn’t your bar the place where everything you regret doing, other people plan to do?”  “Ironic, isn’t it?”  

Silence. Something about him makes you feel peaceful, and you hate it.  

“How can you sound so sure when seeing those guests?”  “It is simple. Trying to save them would be futile, but saving you like this would be enough. Wouldn’t you say you’ve enjoyed out conversation so far?”   “You cannot save me. I made up my mind long ago. I will avenge him.”  “A lover perhaps?”  “My knight.”  

He looks at you and laughs. His laugh sounds regretful, so you don’t take it as an insult. 

“A knight you say? And you said he had a soul purer than yours?”  “Yes. You sound like you disagree.”  “Before this, I was a knight of the enemy kingdom. The title of a knight is never innocent. We gain it by swearing to kill so that we can protect flimsy ideals and even weaker families.”  

All this time, you never even imagined Ajax’s sword decorated by another human’s blood. That image shattered your world. Revenge for a pure soul? Maybe it was revenge for yourself but just masked as less selfish.  

“Tell you what;”, the man kneels down in front of your feet. You can tell that his body automatically remembers the grace and honor knights carry on their backs. Ajax so quickly fell into this stance too.  

“To save your soul, I will be your new knight. To prevent you tasting blood, I will be the one to spill it for you. I’ve done it so many times that I can do it again.”  

Incorrigible man. Paradoxical man. 

“I do not need a new knight.”  “You need someone that will show you just how pointless revenge truly is.”  

When he says that, he looks up at you with piercing eyes. It will be your resolve versus his own and, as much as you hate to admit, it looks like he will win. Maybe that is why you hear Ajax’s laughter. Maybe that is why you get transported into the white room again. This golden door, it echoes with his laugh. Honey-like, warm and it is calling your name. 

Not answering it would be a sin. 

ZHONGLI - EVERYONE THINKS THE KING IS DEAD. IN REALITY, HE IS HIDING IN YOUR HOUSE SAYING HE NEEDS YOUR HELP.

“You again? I already made it very clear to you that your presence is disturbing to my chickens!” 

He is here again. You have debts to pay, and he is disrupting your quiet and small farm. Again. This is the third day in a row. Soon enough you will be as restless as your chickens if this man with intricate tattoos on his arms keeps coming back.  

Wait..coming back? That isn’t the right word. He doesn’t leave! He just spends all of his time here! Why on earth has this man, too tall for you to look at without stretching your neck, decided that sleeping every night in your chicken coop is the most comfortable place one can get some rest? He must be insane. One of those special calibres a friend told you about a while ago; like that man who thought waiting inside hospitals was the biggest joy he had so he would go to one every single day and just sit there.  

“I apologize for disturbing your chickens and, by extent, you. I have no other place to do.” 

Liar. Even if he has been sleeping inside of here for three days his clothes are of such fine fabric you refuse to believe his excuse being homelessness. Bandits pretend they need help all the time; they pretend to be sick and when someone lets them into their house, they rob them and escape with possessions that person spent all their life obtaining. You will not be fooled by his sweet disposition. He should count himself lucky you didn’t chase him away with a broom yet. Truthfully, your heart does not tell you that he is a bad person or that he wishes to spread evil but..he is a suspicious figure! One day, you walked inside the coop with your basket, ready to greet the mostly-nameless-chickens when Miguel (your roster, and, quite frankly, favorite one) screamed as soon as you opened the door while he was about to pluck the top of a sleeping man’s head.  

“If you have enough sense to apologize, then you have enough sense to leave my household and my coop. So, please, walk away somewhere else.” 

The man looks at you with eyes that seem more authoritative than his current homeless position would imply but you refuse to give in and look away. A staring contest first thing in the morning works wonders for your spirits.  

“Like I already said-”, he begins, and you already know how the sentence would end if Miguel didn’t sneak up on him and pecked his ankle. The man bit the inside of his cheek in frustration and looked down at the creature below him. It didn’t seem like it hurt him at all, it seemed like he found it an annoyance more than anything.  

“Tell this chicken that people should get to finish their sentences.”  “He did what any living being would when their home is invaded.”  “I did not invade his home. Be careful of what you accuse me of. I will admit that my presence here seems invasive to your home, but I just needed a place to stay that was very far away and quiet.”  “Then just walk a few more steps into the forest itself and it will serve you nicely.” 

For some reason, when you say that, Miguel starts to scream like never before, you can feel that the air feels heavier and...are his eyes glowing? No, you imagined it. In a split second everything is back to normal. Must have been all the stress. 

“It looks like you haven’t been sleeping lately but I assure you my presence should make no difference to your daily life. I have not even taken one of your eggs to eat in the three days I have been here – can that not be called fair?” 

The arrogance of this man. Does he really think this is a fair trade?  

“Your presence in this coop has decreased my egg production by 47 percent already!”  “Are you sure...did you really calculate that or did you make that number on the spot?”  “What if I did? Accurate number or not, if you continue to stay here, eventually, I will not be able to pay off my debts either way. I am on a very strict payment plan you see.”  

He puts a hand to his chin and looks down at Miguel again. He probably thinks you cannot understand what he is mumbling about but you hear it quite well. He says it is not surprise that your business is failing when you make up numbers on the spot. But then he drops his hand and looks at you.  

“I will leave this chicken coop.”  “So you finally have some sense?”  “If you allow me to sleep on your front porch instead.” 

You raise your eyebrow. It would help your production more and in turn you would be able to pay off your debts but...a grown man sleeping like a dog in front of your porch is not the best solution. Still, if you don’t pay them back in regular instalments they said they would destroy your property so...it should be fine? 

“Fine. But under no circumstances am I letting you inside of my house. Are we clear?”  “Absolutely. I thank you for your kindness?” 

Kindness? You saw him walk around with a stiff back and bruises and all the dirt. Miguel is a big fan of making sure this man gets as dirty as possible..just because you let him stay without feeding him does not mean you are kind. Well, you did give him one slice of bread on the first day since you thought he seemed like a victim. 

“Suit yourself. I still do not see what the difference between this and the forest is!” 

As you walk away, he sighs. Twice. Then he looks at Miguel again who is preparing to attack his ankles again. 

“Your owner really does not feel their own potential... What a shame. Shouldn’t the fact I am so close by be an awakening for that power in them?” he hisses.  “Miguel, if you bring your beak to my ankle once more, I will make you fly.”  

You said that and he really did move to your porch. Right now, you are cooking dinner and he just spends his time sitting there. You waved to him through the window because he sometimes gets up to walk around on the humble porch of an even more humble house.  

But something tells you it was a mistake. To hold a cooking spoon in one hand and to wave at him through the other. Why? Because as soon as he waved back, rain started to pour. The sound on your stove immediately got dimmed from the strength of the downpour and you knew that even the plants would live to regret the strength of this rain. But...it was a bigger mistake because your roof above the porch was never patched up and the rain seemed to be falling at such an angle that the man would get hit with it no matter what.  

It tugged on your heart, and you opened the front door. In those few minutes, your entire porch was already filled with water and, no matter how close to the house he stood, the man was completely wet. His long hair clung to his forearms and neck, his clothes were clinging to his skin too.  

“I know what I said but--” 

As if to help the urgency of your kindness, hail started to fall from the sky and you just quickly tugged on the man’s sleeve to bring him inside your house.  

“I will let you stay inside just for tonight.”  

He remained quiet and stood completely still next to the door. 

“You have my thanks.”  “Well, walk further inside?”  “No. That would prove I lack manners. Since I am all wet it is better if I stay in one place while I dry.”  “You-- Did you really think I would not offer you a change of clothes and a towel to dry yourself with?!”  “Well..you did let your chickens peck me for three days so..I just inferred you would be hesitant.” 

You quickly walk to another room and bring him a change of clothes without missing the chance to throw a towel in his face. 

“Here. I barely have any warm water left but go take a bath to ensure you do not catch a cold.”   “You have my sincere thanks.”  

You walk around to your counter to stir the pot. You can hear him drying his hair; somehow it annoys you his has that much volume. As you look up, wishing to glare at him, you can see that he is already shirtless and about to tug down his pants. In a moment of panic you decide that throwing the cooking spoon at him is your quickest reaction.  

“What are you doing?!”  “Hmm? I should change in this one spot because my clothes are dripping water onto your floor as well.”  “I do not want to see you change!” 

He freezes up. He has spent so much of his life inside his castle; never has anyone reprimanded him for his habits and he had his own harem. Somehow, he never expected such a reaction to befall him, and this moment just reminds him of how low he has fallen, even if he tried to show consideration towards your home.  

“You are absolutely right, I deeply apologize. I shall finish up the rest in your bathroom.”  

He tries to make his steps as light as possible when he walks by and you curse yourself for looking at his defined back.  

By his physique, he seems stronger than most..just why is he here in such a miserable state? 

“Thank you for choosing to share some of your dinner with me.”  “I did let you go hungry for three days and the rain doesn’t look like it will stop soon. So, I figured, it was the least I could do for now.” 

He sits up straight in the chair. This oversized sweater of yours fits him perfectly and the pants you brought him only reach up to his knees, but they are better than nothing.  

“You must know I... I understand your hesitance in not trusting me.”  “Do you now?” 

He nods.  

“I do not think I have given you many reasons to not trust me, but I also do not think I have given you reasons to trust me either. It crossed my mind just now that I never even gave you my name.”  “Will you give it to me now?”  “My name is Zhongli. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

He doesn’t seem to know that he should stretch his hand for a shake when introducing himself so you just raise up another spoon of broth to your mouth.  

“I am glad to finally know the name of the man who has lessened my egg production by 63 percent.”  “Wasn’t it 47 percent just this morning?” 

You did admit to making up the numbers but your cheeks still feel hot from embarrassment. 

“Hush.” 

Zhongli simply looks at you and puts a hand to his chin. He should have made more public appearances in this form, but he doubts his image as a king would have ever reached this place of solace you live in. Not only is it the smallest village in his kingdom, well, his ex-kingdom he supposes but...even with all of that you chose a house so removed from everyone else that you probably only talk to other humans once a week when you have to visit the village square.  

He wonders how you would react to knowing that you just told the most powerful king of these lands to hush up. Nobody ever did this before; he wonders if he should hate it instead of finding it endearing.  

“Could I ask you how your life has been since the king died? You might not believe this, but I did see changes when travelling all the way here.”  “What are you trying to hide from?”  “Pardon?”  “Zhongli what are- ugh never mind I actually do not wish to know. My life since the king died? My life while he was alive before the Revolutionaries took over was hard enough. You see where I live, and I have no idea why you are acting like it is a good place. To simply tell you of my life; I do not remember having a childhood, but I do remember waking up here and being cornered by some bandits. They kept asking me about my debts and I only saw the chicken coop from the window and decided to lie and say a fox snuck in and killed most of my animals.” 

Zhongli patiently listens to you. His eyes seem to glow again because of how interested he is in what you are saying. Maybe you are talking so much because you have not had human company in so long?  

“Anyway, they believed me without checking but they reminded me that I owe them for life because, apparently, I made a shady deal with them in the past. I wanted to fight but there wasn’t much I could actually do. Would they kill me? Sell me? Living in this dump and taking care of chickens to earn enough money to pay them back monthly seemed better than..living in that forest I tried to send you too.” 

Zhongli does not say much but he feels that you want him to say or ask something.  “All this time I supposed that the king only failed his people by dying but it seems like he failed you long before that. Based on my travels so far, I suppose that it only got worse after that fact?”  “Worse? It is hell! I never thought that the king had any duty towards me but maybe he did. The Revolutionaries certainly did not help anything improve! They raised taxes, which means the bandits I pay want even larger amounts of money now. I never thought the tax increase would even influence the illegal jobs of this world.”  

You take another bite of your food, but it tastes bitter this time, probably because your feelings are the same.  

“You must allow me to apologize.”  “Apologize? For what?”  “I had no idea you were in business with these..bandits...they came last night and since I deemed them suspicious I..took care of them.” 

At first, you laugh. A big, hearty laugh.   Then, Zhongli laughs with you. He was not expecting that reaction but he knows how wrong he was to relax when your spoon hits his shoulder. Now, you are glaring at him.  

“I was right not to trust you! When they return with backup what will I do then?”  

He can feel that you are panicking. And he lets you be angry at him because he knows what lies behind that is fear. He knows the prophecy; he knows why he let the rebels have the upper hand for now; he needed time to reach you – the one who is destined to help him. But with all this fear and your lack of memories or awareness of the power you hold – he had to subject himself to sleeping in your chicken coop and waiting for your power to awaken.  

It becomes crystal clear that as you are now, you will never grow into your potential without his help. He decides to approach this like everything else he has as the king right now. When you finish yelling, he extends his hand and his tattoos go from black to gold – he uses his power to make calm wash over you and he forces you to sit down in the chair again.  

“Listen to me, they will not be returning. Even bandits have enough sense to know that they will lose against me. Your chickens posed more of an issue for me.” 

Was this his way of trying to bring light to this whole situation?  

You should be angry still. You should be making sure he leaves your house; but his powers calm you beyond all harmony you have known so far.  

“How can you be so sure of yourself?”  “If you were not so filled with fear; you would remember who you are. Child of the Sun, we are the same origin. You are meant to help my mission in this world by standing as my equal. Yet, it is clear I will have to guide you regardless.” 

His..who is that man? Is he the considerate man who refuses to take another step to not wet your carpet or is he an arrogant bastard? The answer does not matter. His innocence and consideration can be the truth or a lie; you do not care.   Something in you snaps and your body grows yellow too. It lets you stand up and glare at him. Something is tugging your body and it does not feel like Zhongli’s power. You think this surge of emotions and power welling inside is going to make you faint soon, so you settle on just one sentence before you are plucked from this world and another door swallows you. 

“All of you kings are the same. And you can all beg for my help and burn as I do not answer you.” 

a/n: whelp,, it has been a while,,truly. how have you been? i hope this chapter is to your liking. I am trying to make these shorter than before but,,it is hard ://

TAGLIST: send an ask if you wish to be added.

There is a distinct itch on your left eyebrow, and you scratch it as you rise. Hoping not to feel the drops anymore. There is only so long before something gentle becomes irritating. When you do rise it is with a heaviness in your bones. As if you were sleeping for a very long time on something uncomfortable. And once you try to stretch out your back – you realize that feeling is right. Who knows how many minutes or hours you spent sleeping on this sturdy floor?  

As your eyes begin to focus on things around you – you realize that on the right side is a big table. You felt the droplet hitting your arm over and over again because of something that looks like a glass tube. The table is larger than you while you still continue to sit down on the floor, but, even from this position, you can see just how many colors and papers and glass flasks take up all of that large space.  

You stand up and place your hands on the papers to look around more. Does this belong to you? Were you actually a scientist in this life researching something important? The notes are not in your handwriting, and you almost understand none of the words on those papers or on all of the boards written out with chalk. A shiver runs up your body and you realize just how cold and distilled this room really is. There are windows but they are closed and covered by curtains as well as books?  

A shiver runs up your body again and you hear the door hinges. As they open, sunlight draws its shape under your feet and you immediately feel warmer. You aren’t surprised that sunflowers seek the sun because you immediately turn around to feel that warmth again – and it is not just the sun that greets you – you notice sunlit hair and the outline of someone’s body.  

“Huh? Darling, what are you doing here?”  

Darling? Does this person with the calm voice see you as their darling? Their nickname for you is as tender as droplets themselves. It somehow feels warm. And while you should feel scared for not knowing this man, who is hurriedly walking over because of your confused face; you feel no fear. No malice. And no darkness. He holds your hands and you think how odd it is that he seems as warm as the sun, yet his hands are cold against your own. Maybe you feel so cold and sensitive because you just woke up?   Besides finding comfort in his cold but gentle hands, you catch sight of a ring on his finger as he examines your state.  

“How long have you been here?”  

His intonation remains the same but should you perhaps not have entered this room? His gaze sharpens as he catches sight of something. He tugs your hand towards him to extend it fully – and that makes you spot the same ring on your own hand.  

“This doesn’t look good.” he says, and you think how he just said your inner thoughts. Are you supposed to be married to this man? The dumb doors never give you a warning when you pass through them.  

You are absolutely frozen. Your mind is thinking over things too fast, trying to force itself to remember anything, but it fails. It fails you completely. And you continue to stare at him. 

“What is this? You are not trying to reassure me of your state? That is surprising.”  

He looks at you. His eyes are searching for something within you and when you blink; he looks away and sighs. Something tells you he knows that you are not his spouse – that you are not the actual person he loves and worries over so much.   His hands leaving your body and the step he takes back are enough of a confirmation of that. You miss the feeling of such proximity.  

“Tell me, do you feel cold? Perhaps any chills?”  “I uhm, yes. But I think that is just from sleeping in this room.”  “You slept in this room?” he says it with complete disapproval, but it is not directed towards either of you.  

“I will need to be quick. Leave this room on your own, go down the very end of the hall and turn to the right. When you enter that room, just sit completely still on the bed and wait for me to come.” 

After he says that, he bypasses you to the table and picks up those papers you touched earlier. You feel like an intruder with no reason to stay any longer, and with one glance back, you close the door and do as he instructed you to. 

And you almost regret it. This room is filled with sunlight. There are no traces of dust or any mess. But this is clearly the room of a couple. The shared closet and the shared large bed are enough for you to know. You still feel like an intruder but as another chill overtakes you, you realize it is better to sit down and rest no matter how out of place this makes you feel.   You sit on the bed, completely still. Somehow you are actually afraid to move.  

You look outside the window. It must be spring or summer. The trees and grass are completely vibrant in their green hues. Something tells you this house is fairly isolated. There seems to be a small town in the distance.   For 20 or so minutes, you sit still and look at the window to see what changes. Nobody walks towards this house and the small town continues to look like a painting instead of a living and breathing thing with people who lead their lives there. You grow impatient and plant your feet on the ground to rise up and walk closer to the window; halfway through the door opens again and you quickly sit down to make it seem like you were not about to break his instructions.  

“It is futile to pretend like you were not just about to get up.” There go your hopes. 

“Extend your hand.”   You eye him and extend your hand in his direction. He looks unimpressed while holding a white packaging in his hands.  “Your other hand. The one the liquid touched.”   “Oh.” 

You extend it, and he sits down next to you with the weight shifting. 

“Luckily, the liquid only dripped down on the upper part of your arm. Not on your face, or worse, in your mouth.”  He takes some white cream on the tip of his index finger and brings it to your arm. When you look at it, you notice for the first time how red it got with a small centre part that can only be described as maroon.

“You are lucky this didn’t completely break the first layer of your skin. This way, you will only be feverish for a few days once I apply this cream on you.” 

He is completely calm and you don’t even think of asking what could have happened if that liquid actually dripped down on your head instead. Something tells you it is better not to know the details. But... just.. He was so comforting when he first touched you in that room, and now it simply feels like any regular doctor appointment but inside of a room that should be the most intimacy ridden place in this house. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth. This feeling. The fact that you really do not know this man but wish to have him close to you. That you wish he would treat you as if no chance has taken place.  

But he is calm, and smart and calculating. He seems like the rational type who has no qualms about any of this. The cream stings your arm, but you find it more bearable than your need to be coddled by this man.  

“There. Now all you need to do is rest.”   “Thank you..”  “Albedo. That is my name. I never thought I would have to reintroduce myself to the love of my life, but we have been through so..” he stops himself. “Nevermind.” 

You do not know what to say.  

“Just make sure you rest in this room. I will bring you fever medicine, food and anything else you might need.”  “Thank you, again. I am sorry I look like your significant other but I have no memories of you or..this home.”  “I will sleep on the couch until you remember or...whatever it is fate will play next. Are you sure you absolutely have no memories of me? Or your ‘previous’ life?” 

You nod your head. It stings. 

“I see. The evening is here. As soon as you feel the fever, call me. Until then.”  

The evening casts a cold blue over the sky before it completely turns dark. The town which you see through the window seems more alive now that you can see the few lights turned on. The bed you climb into reminds you of your current situation. You find the perfect spot and you already know it is perfect because your body made these small dents to accommodate it – and it just makes you feel like this situation (yes situation, not life) was not something you should be thrust into. You are an intruder in the worst way possible. It is with those thoughts that you actually feel the fever which overtakes you. You do not want to shout, so with a shaky but regular voice you call out his name – you call out ‘Albedo’ and it rolls off your tongue far easier than you wish.

You expected that you would have to call his name more than once, but while you do not hear his footsteps – you hear the door opening. For some reason, Albedo didn’t change his clothes. Did he even sleep? He didn’t take blankets from this room either. Maybe he is working into the night?  

There is a tray in his hands. It has two glasess of water, a syrup and what you can only describe as a plethora of pills and vitamins in the center. He is a meticilous man. You think how he always worries too much. The medicine he gives you is so bitter you forget about that thought reeking of familiarity when it really shouldn’t be.  

“By your face I can see you are still a baby about the bitterness. Here, drink this water. I would bring you milk but it might taste even worse after that pill.” There is a soft smile on his face. Reminiscence is a luxury sometimes you realize. 

“Albedo, how long do you think I will have to stay in bed?”  “Around three to four more days. You do not know this, but you were lucky I was the one who found you. My skills in alchemy are said to be grander than most.”  “Alchemy? So that was your lab!”   “Yes, I still do not know why you were sleeping there. Do you have any idea why?” 

You’re sweating from the covers and the fever going down. His pills work quickly, and your head is clearing up.  

“I only know a few things about myself.” 

He looks around and with some hesitation, sits down on the bed not allowing you to get up.  “Could you tell me what you do know? It might help us both.”  “I know that... I am an intruder in this domesticity. At least that is something.”  “Even a slight change is an intruder in domesticity we built. It becomes easily noticeable. Please, go on.” 

Was that his way of reassuring you?  

“I just know I keep switching places. There are doors that greet me and that I sometimes run towards but.. I have no way of knowing what is behind them. I have a feeling I was asleep in your lab, because every time I switch places, my eyes are closed? I think.”  “Interesting.” 

Albedo brings a hand to his chin.

“Could we say your eyes being closed is a trigger for this phenomenon? Are you aware how many times you switched places? Do you usually regain your memories?” 

Albedo is a curious man you realize. His questions are never-ending. 

“I think I...at least regain parts of memories of the people I play? Well, live. This isn’t theatre but...” you are getting sleepy now and your words are growing quieter. “but at least I will stop being an impostor. And no, I am not aware how many places I have changed so far.”   “I see. I will give this more thought and time.” 

Albedo brings up the covers to your shoulders and tucks you in with that same reminiscent look in his eyes.  

“Please rest up. Your eyes are getting watery from a lack of sleep.”  

And you fall asleep with that image of Albedo in your mind. The Albedo that cares for you. In all his gentleness.  

The next morning you wake up in a very different way which makes your heart race. Through your sleepy state, you hear the door burst open and suddenly something jumping on your bed. And then it jumps right off, even faster.   You continue to lie down, but your watery eyes make out a big blur of something red. Something that immediately approaches your head once it sees you rubbing your eyes. And once you move your hand away, you are met with wide, curious eyes who are looking at you without blinking.  

“You’re awake! Yey!”  

You realize this blur of red is just a very jumpy child celebrating the fact that they get to see you. You should know this little girl, but despite the fact that you do not, you move your hand to put some of her hair back in place.  

“I am!” You try to match some of her enthusiasm.  

“Big brother Albedo said you would be sleeping and that I shouldn’t disturb you because you are sick. But, I snuck out while he was making me breakfast!”  

You can’t help but to giggle. “I see.” Behind her, you can see Albedo at the door.  

“Do you think your big brother noticed that you left so soon?”  She laughs and says how she hopes he did not, but it is interrupted by Albedo touching her shoulder.  

“Well, I am sorry to say that your hopes turned out to be empty. I told you to stay away because we have a patient on our hands Klee.”  “So? I always make them feel better when they catch a cold! I wanted to help again!” 

She is so earnest and full of energy.  

“And how will you do that now that you are here might I ask?” 

Klee looks around and thinks. “By hearing stories! That always helps. I want to hear my favorite one!”  “Klee, I don’t think that is a good idea right now.”  

Before Albedo can take her out of the room, she jumps on your bed again.   “Oh please! Please tell the story of how you fell in love with my brother because he was a genius! And then how you two had to escape your strict father and how you gave up your status to marry him!” 

You freeze up. Albedo rushes to take her off your bed.  

“No, big brother! Please! Miss Lisa wants more details. Please tell me the story again!”  “Klee, it is time for medicine. Cooperate with me so that we help the sickness go away, okay?”  

He takes her off your bed, but she grabs onto your hand instead.  

“Tell me!”  

You look at her and the look you give Albedo lets him know you will handle this.  

“Klee, I did not fall in love with your brother because he was a genius. I fell in love with him because he was kinder than anyone I met.” 

She laughs and lets go of your hand. Albedo finds that the perfect moment to help guide her out of the room.  

“You have your answer now Klee. Come on, I will tell you the details while you play with the dog.”  

Albedo gives you a smile and a nod to which you nod back. It means understanding but...despite the moment, you still feel like an outsider. Albedo and you own a dog? Until when will everything be a revelation to you?  

Albedo enters your room again while carrying lunch. You’ve realized just how much of a good cook he is.  

“Klee suddenly dropped by; I apologize. She was passing by to carry a letter and decided to visit us. If I knew, I would have told you.”  “I understand. It is not your fault. Your little sister seems like a very energetic girl.”  “Ah yes. You know, it is odd how similar you are to the person you say you are impersonating. You, they, said that during our wedding too when she dropped the cake.”  

The domesticity gets broken again. You wish to know so much, and Albedo doesn’t do anything but reminisce.  

“Albedo, could you tell me the story you told Klee? It might help my memories. I might be the person that you love again.”  “You already are that person, albeit, without remembering me.” 

He catches you off guard as he sits down next to you.  

“If that is your hypothesis, I will tell you.” Albedo places a warm cup of tea in your hands.  

“I told you of my alchemy skills before. With them, I managed to gain a patron when I was struggling, and that patron just so happened to be your father.”  

He watches you take a sip. 

“Because of my genius, I was offered a place in your home. With your father being a duke and all, the mansion was large enough for me to live and research there without disturbing anyone. Back then, at the start, my unknown origin did not matter to anyone. I was a genius and that was more important than anything else.”  

Albedo sees the way your hands seem to curl up around the cup. 

“By chance, you happened to stumble upon my lab. We will call it your curious and bratty nature at play. And before I knew it, we were in love and confident it would be accepted. Unfortunately, as soon as you told your father...It didn’t matter that I was a genius – I was unworthy of the duke’s child.”  

He finally looks up at you instead of your hands. You are listening intently. Albedo does not know if your memories are returning but he cannot doubt the love in your eyes. How it looks just like it did before, on the day you stood up to your father.  

“When I packed up my things, you refused to let me leave without you. In short, we escaped that night to this small town. Lived in it while I worked as an alchemist and doctor, so that we could move away and build this house right here.”  

The cup in your hands proves to be too distracting for you, so you leave it on the tray instead. 

“After a while, you sent your father a letter to officially confirm you gave up your title and inheritance. I would say your greedy cousins now see you as a hero for that.”  

He takes off his gloves and holds your arm, expecting the same place again.  

“It is healing up quite nicely.”  

And you can’t stand it. The memories that rush back to you, his cold hands on your body, this proximity and domesticity that makes you restless. His closeness makes you feel warm again and you know it is definitely not the fever this time.  

“I don’t regret running away with you. Even if my father said you were not human Albedo.”  “Ah, have the memories truly returned to you? You are not surprised by my hands being cold anymore either.”  

You nod as tears swell up in your eyes. You finally remember this. You are finally in the place you are supposed to be.  

“I cannot believe you have made me wonder if you loved me. Didn’t you promise I would never have doubts?”   “Oh, were you foolish enough to ask if I loved you? You should have asked yourself if you would be able to handle it if I didn’t hold back my love for you in your current state.”  

And he says that with all the gentleness of the sun; of the droplets you love so much. He says it with a playful smile on his face because your lover has always been a tease. He loves you. He loves you more than anything. You just wish this fate didn’t toy with you like this. Just as Albedo places a kiss on your collarbone, you are met with another door.  

And this time, you are hesitant to move towards it. 

DOTTORE - THE MAN WHO BECOMES A SINNER FOR YOU. THE MAGIC MIRROR URGES YOU TO HATE HIM BECAUSE YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO KNOW THAT HE TURNED BACK TIME FOR YOU.

Is this the first time that this has happened? When you are back in this idyllic white room, it makes you forget almost everything; but never have you stood still when a door manifested before. You remember running and grabbing onto the handle as if it was the only hopeful thing to exist. But never have you stood so...still. So hesitant to approach this novelty.  

It is like this door represents a certain darkness that you realize hides amongst this world. It is intimidating; looks like it towers over you no matter the fact that you are at least fifteen steps away from it. It looks grandiose unlike anything you have seen so far. To think that a door can have such an intricate design, with vines of silver coating the corners; with a blue glow around the outline – it still holds you in place.   Maybe if you stand still long enough, you will be able to avoid venturing inside the life that hides on the other side of it? It is not cowardice – well, even if that was the true name – you just consider it something to be visited later. When bravery and spitefulness overtakes you perhaps.   So you wait. Patience is a virtue that might manifest a different door in front of you. Or behind you? You look around, orbiting around yourself for something different to invite you in.  

But sadly, instead of a new hope – the silver vines from the door come alive, they wrap around your body like harp strings – and you are pulled towards that blue. The pull itself does not hurt; it just makes you panic. Whatever hides behind this door you will have to deal with, that much is painfully clear.  

With a deep breath, you twist the handle. The blue glows even brighter and it makes you gasp. That is the last thing you remember.  

The sensation of gasping proves itself to be more painful than usual. You wish you hadn’t done it. It feels like your lungs are on fire and you are coughing with small tears decorating your eyelashes. You don’t know where you are, but you are sure it is a big room by the way even this seems to echo.   Nobody is speaking, but there is a hand at your back – rubbing soothing circles into it to calm you down.   Your coughing eventually dies down and you are able to open your eyes. The world around you seems blurry, but the first sight you see is your lap and a pristine white tablecloth. Instead of looking behind you to see the person that is helping you, your gaze shifts upwards and across all the cutlery and food; across that stretched out table that seems to swallow you up – is a man with blue hair and round glasses looking at you in endearment. He doesn’t seem worried about you – he seems enamoured. His chin rests in his hand as his iceberg eyes look at you in such an adoring way you can’t help but scoff and turn your gaze towards your lap again.   The least he could do is ask if you are okay. He shouldn’t be free of worry for you. Even complete strangers would be. Is he too reliant on the servant rubbing your back? Or is he just so above it all?  

“Oh, my love,” his voice is deeper than you imagined it would be. Your shoulders tense up as he continues to talk. “I know that is your favorite food but please refrain from consuming it so quickly you end up choking on it and worrying me.”  

Bullshit. He didn’t look worried at all.  

The warm hand on your back disappears and you realize it was a servant that helped you as they walk back into the hallway. You wish to thank them but the tense atmosphere and your irritated throat make you keep quiet.   The man across from you taps his wine glass and the sound just means a ring for your attention.  

“To our anniversary, my love.” His voice is sickeningly gentle. 

Anniversary? This man with iceberg eyes and a misty voice is your lover? And this whole ordeal is just a dinner to celebrate that anniversary?   If he really loved you – he would have realized immediately that you did not know him and that you had no recollection of any love living and extending in this place. But he looks at you with love, impatient to see you bring up your own glass above your head for a toast.  

You do it. You raise the glass and mumble ‘happy anniversary’ and all the while, you think, how dumb it is for your glasses not to clink against one another. Even if you did not remember him – it is utterly foolish to sit this far apart while talking about love. 

After the dinner, he walked over to your side and leaned against the table. That closeness makes you feel uneasy. It makes you note just how intense his gaze really is. Across the table, you only saw the depth flicker but like this, the intensity makes you break and you look away.  

You do not even know his name, and yet, this man is taking hold of your hand, rolling down your glove and pressing kisses from your knuckle, over your wrist, and all the way up to your elbow. Then, with a sigh of pleasure, he drops your hand down and you can’t help how you squirm. He pulls your glove back up and rests his hand on your head.  

“My dearest,” another sweet nickname in that deep voice of his, “make sure you get enough rest tonight.”  

With that, he leaves the room. Are you two not supposed to share a living space? Why did he say it like that? Shouldn’t you two go into shared quarters? It surprises you. The way that intense presence is fine with leaving you alone like this.  

The same servant walks into the room and says she will escort you to your room and run a warm bath.  

At least this way, you will not be lost and looking for your room in a manor you know nothing about. 

While washing your body in water that seems too perfect to fit your needs, you realize it is a bit odd to be so calm about this current state. You were more scared of the door leading to this place instead of being in it.  

Was the person you are supposed to be this sullen? And this calm? Maybe you are just acting out a script they wrote?  This state of...celebrating an anniversary (numbered what? You do not know.) and then leaving for separate rooms doesn’t seem as anything unusual. The room this maid took you to had traces of life for just one. It had traces of only you.   Ornaments according to your own taste. The organised bookshelves and the desk – even the curtains all seemed like the exact choice you would make.   It didn’t seem like anyone else’s tastes were part of these corners – but why? 

Even this bed you are lying in after the bath – it fits you perfectly. Nothing is lacking. Even the sheets are scented according to what brings you pleasure. It is as if everything was perfectly ordained by your desires.  

You have to wonder if that man wants to enrapture you. 

After so much thinking, you imagined this world would have let you sleep and ‘get some rest’ as your alleged lover put it. But instead, when you close your eyes, you see the same blue glow that dragged you in. And in an instant, sleepiness leaves your body as you jump up out of the bed.  The blue glow this time is radiating from the mirror. No matter how hard you look at it, you do not see yourself reflected. Matter of fact, nothing is reflected. It only glows and this time you willingly drag your feet towards it.  

Your hand touched the surface of it, but nothing happens. You are not plunged or tugged towards another fragmented scene. Instead, the mirror feels cold and you can hear a voice talking to you. 

“Oh you, the blessed path seeker,   Remember that he has broken the rules.   Oh you, the choice maker,   Remember that you have to hate him, for the fear of fools.” 

When that voice says he – the only image your mind is able to conjure up is of that dinner. How his head was resting in his hand and how he looked at you. He has to be the man you must hate. Why? What rules has he broken? You do not know.  

But hating him does not seem like a hard task to fulfil.  

When the glow stops, you return to your bed strangely calm.  

In the morning you do not wake up by your own violation. You wake up because your maid moves away the curtains and your needed rest gets interrupted by the dimmed sun. Before you can rub away the sleep from your eyes, she opens your closet and starts sorting through clothes. 

“Lord Dottore has requested that you join him for some morning tea.”

So his name is Dottore? And they refer to him as a Lord?  

“Don’t you just find this brew excellent for this morning my dearest?”

He never seems to run out of sweet nicknames to call you by. And you just grow to hate them more as they continue to pile up. But he is right, this tea is excellent. He probably knows more about brews and taste than you – but as long as you enjoy drinking it – the tea is perfectly fine.   Plus, this garden pavilion is not only decorated in luxury, but by the autumn leaves falling down and the dimming sun that woke you up. They are an enjoyable sight that proves to make you avoidance of Dottore’s eyes even easier. 

“I have to agree with you.” 

Dottore seems reminiscent of something. Completely giving into the feeling. Almost wistful. 

“Ah, you are not using a nickname for me. Tell me my darling, have I done something to upset you? Was perhaps the anniversary celebration not to you liking?”  

And you freeze. Wouldn’t admitting you do not remember large parts of the anniversary put you in danger? Dottore seems perfectly calm while talking to you like this but you can sense just how on edge the servants are around him. As if he could grow impulsive at any second from the smallest thing.  

You try to scramble your brain for a coherent answer, but it just so happens that a male servant saves you by quickly approaching your table.  

“Lord Dottore, there is an emergency concerning Sir Ragnvindr! We need instructions on-”  

Dottore’s cup of tea flies directly at the man’s feet and it shatters. The grey liquid spilling everywhere makes for an odd sight to behold. It shocks you.   Dottore, on the other hand, acts as if nothing just happened. He crosses his arms and speaks in that same calm voice.  

“What did I say about anyone interrupting me during my private moments?”  

He leans back against the chair and looks at the servant mockingly.  

“What did you say? Sir Ragnvindr being an emergency?”, he seems to be smirking as his voice lulls along. “That man will never be a serious emergency for you to break our peaceful time. Deal with Ragnvindr on your own before I decide to come.” 

The servant picks up the large pieces of the teacup before he scurries away. You look down at your lap instead and mumble the name Diluc Ragnvindr over twice.   Dottore simply looks at you as his smirk stretches out.  

“What is this? Do you know the man named Diluc Ragnvindr?”  “I... think I do...” This whole situation is unclear to yourself. You seem to remember the name but not the face of that individual.   “Might I ask how? Wait, you don’t have to tell me, he must have been one of your toys before you met me. Am I right?” 

Dottore seems really pleased with himself. Does his arrogance know no bounds?  

“I think I ..” your mind only draws one scene. Someone is holding your hand and guiding you – so you answer honestly. As honestly as you can amidst all of the confusion. 

“I think I .. danced with him once.” 

Dottore clicks his tongue.  

“My, my, he must be a truly talented dancer if you remember him for such a meaningless thing.”  

But by the way Dottore stands up and invites you to waltz in the garden – you doubt he truly finds it meaningless.  

After that, Dottore does not disturb you for the rest of the day. When you open a book to read – he does not have a request to see you. When you eat your lunch, it is by yourself in the garden. When you take a walk, he doesn’t randomly appear to join you as much as you convinced yourself that man would find a way to ruin your fun. And even as dinner approaches, you end up sitting all by yourself at that large table. It doesn’t feel right to look at so much food for just one person, so you only end up taking a few bites before retreating to your room for some sleep.  

You did wake up before you wished this morning after all.   This night – there is no blue hues that could wake you or disturb your sleep. Nor is there any voice to strike fear and order. You fall asleep without any issues; but you awake in the middle of the night to the feeling of your sheets being pulled.   No, they are not being pulled, it just feels like someone is gripping on them behind your back. Their hand stays in the same position, rustling the fabric and you hear someone’s voice breaking.  

“Why were we cursed like this?” the voice asks. You keep your eyes closed and pretend to still be asleep.   The voice belongs to Dottore, but it is just a broken-down whisper.  

“I turned back time for you out of love. And they considered me sinful.”  

He has done what? He turned back time for you? What does this mean? Is Dottore the reason you keep opening all of those doors? Is he the reason for this fragmentation?  

He rests his head on your bed and now his voice is even more muffled.  

“And yet, I was punished. It doesn’t matter that you are here with me. They cursed me. Made you forget me or hate me over and over again. As soon as you start to love me – you revert back to someone who has no memories.”  

He lifts his head up.  

“Like you did..at that anniversary dinner. Oh, what must I do? What must I do to have you come back to me completely? Tell me!”  

You think that even he himself is unaware who he is talking to. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that his voice is painfully hoarse. And, when you turn around to look at him, because you cannot deal to hear such pain and ignore it – you realize that he is even unaware of the tears that coat his cheeks.  

His iceberg eyes light up when you reach to wipe them away.  

“My foolish Dottore,” , you forget about the voice from the mirror. You forget about the hatred. “You have to make up for your sins.”  

You look at him with love. And as he gets off his knees to pull you closer, as his hand touches your own – you are being pulled by the silver strings once more.   Dottore is a sinner. He has sinned for you. And until his repentance is done – you will continue to be separated from him. 

a/n: kekekeke i love dottore but he should suffer. And it is fun to make him like this. I hope u enjoyed it! This took me so much work omg

TAGLIST: (send an ask to be added)

In the tomes and amongst the people it has long since been told that all belongs to the rightful ruler. This land, all of the mountains that kiss the sky and all of the rivers that guide the way people move – belong to that rightful ruler. It all belongs to the King. He is subjected to none, but everyone is subjected to him. In return, he is tasked with ruling in righteousness and ensuring that this kingdom remains as prosperous as it’s songs.  

But there are sides people do not know or those sides they refuse to accept. Will the King’s advisors really ever set foot on the streets and walk their full length? Will they ever walk past the beautiful gardens into the roads where people suffer day to day? Are they really willing to admit that the magic of this world has been separated and that most of the truth has been burned? They are not.  

But Pierro is.   Pierro has lived long enough to remember why nature has decided to punish his Kingdom as such. He hides the few original books that are left in his personal library.  

If only people were not easily susceptible to folly and foolishness – he would not have to spend all his time searching for the remedy.   When he sits in his personal library, his eyes are only glued to one corner. The one that explains the true duty and nature of a king. He understands that no matter what he does, no matter what means others love him or criticize him for – he can never make himself out to be the remedy. He wishes it wasn’t so, but desperation will not change the result.  

Pierro is only one half of what this land needs. The King has always been ordained to be one title; shared by two forces. Pierro is but a lousy half. He is only the darkness and the moon. The land is falling to ruin because of it. Slowly but surely. He knows that he needs to find the sun – the light of the prophecy – to save this kingdom from rotting down to the brims. But how?  

The powers of the sun have been dealt a great injustice by his predecessor and have hidden themselves from this world. Pierro uses all his free time, and the very few personal guards and spies he trusts, to try and find the missing half.  

He has never succeeded thus far. But lately...his dreams have started to involve a small moving light. He runs after it, tries to catch it – sometimes he sees the light shining in a cage – this must be a good sign. Soon, so soon, he will find the light that is meant to save his kingdom.  

When the sun has been banished, it always shows in places one would least expect. But, thankfully, the ones that are looking for it always seem to look for the overwhelming light that burns and not the light that soothes and creates miracles. Perhaps you could even say that when those unfit search for it so strongly, they do so in violence that makes their wishes of seeing it completely void.  

Barren people have no real meanings to create. That has been the mantra echoing inside of your head once you woke up on the dirty mattress inside this house. You remember the gentlest fingertips holding onto your arms as they squeezed and whispered it to you. It seemed like a life lesson and a warning all at once. As if, since they only had a few seconds, they left you with a gem to live up to.  

But who they were or how they looked like, is something you have no concept of. All you remember are their cryptic words and their warmth. You wished that you tried to grab onto them – that you tried to pull them closer and ask something – anything – but instead, you were brought to another place without any clues besides that sentence.  

Maybe, if you were not told anything, you would have worried less. This way, there are expectations that weight on you. Waking up with just that one sentence means you have something to fulfil or someone’s trust to lose. There is a place to take, and you feel yourself to be unworthy.  

This house is almost broken down completely, but it is still the best house in this poor neighbourhood. It seems like this shaky structure stands as a beacon of hope for others. Where do you reside this time? In a dirty and filthy town full of those that are dealt the worst hand of fate.

And you have taken on the mantle of being their healer. The ones who visit your humble house are those who have nowhere else to go and almost nothing to eat. The first time an old man knocked on your door to help him, your eyes got teary at the sight. These people have lost so much, and they continue to be forced to move on. He was so skinny and sickly, that you just hoped you could help. Luckily, what he needed you for was healing his wound. He said he got his hands on a whole loaf of bread, that he kept trying to hide it as best as he could but that a young teenager stole it from him and left him wounded.  

And there were many feelings swirling in your heart. Anger and empathy yes, but also, the feeling that you could only offer almost nothing. Yes, you healed the wound on his arm so quickly when you pressed your hand to it – it must have been magic. But what does that mean? Could you somehow help to a greater extent? It just seems like you will forever be forced to have people knock on your door, for them to almost seem like creatures and not humans because of their condition, and you will heal them. But, you will see them off just - asking yourself until when and how much will they be able to continue to live like this.  

There is no happiness in this place. The fact that there are almost no children running around on the grass disturbs you more than you ever thought was possible.   Living in the silence of suffering is all that this place has.  

But you cannot help to think that there must be something more. That there must be a cure to this overwhelming misery. And perhaps that is the foolish hope which presents itself to you as a mark that ends up dooming you.  

This place was always quiet except for when there was trouble. And the fact that you can hear painful yelps and see a crowd of people after you came back from gathering herbs just makes your blood boil.   The soldiers of this kingdom came. Two of them and a superior. They look at everyone who lives here with hatred and contempt but, even worse than that, is the fact that the first man you healed is now kneeling over amongst the dirt and the dust. Above him stands a woman who could save everyone here from poverty if she just made the choice to snap her fingers. But of course, she would not. She is the one inflicting pain upon the poor man. She has a loud voice and your anger makes you drop your basket. Your fingers start to tremble, and your head is filled with buzzing.  

She keeps yelling at that man - something about him being a traitor; about how the king will never forgive him. She keeps mentioning reports he failed to send about ‘the chosen one’, and then she kicks him, and he tumbles over into the dirt. He lies on the ground and doesn’t move; you have no idea if he is still breathing but nothing besides anger exist in your heart anymore.  

It feels like you are being filled with something unknown. Everyone is looking at you and when the woman turns around. She smirks at you. The buzzing in your head gets stronger and messier; your body feels like it is being pulled by two sides. As if vines are wrapping around you. But your hands break free and before you know it, there is a golden light that comes out of your hands and it attacks the woman.  

If only you remembered that advice and the expectation you had to live up to, you would have made a different choice. This way, you faint before you can see that obnoxious smirk wiped off her face at all. 

Your body jerks up inside of a bed that feels too comfortable and soft too for you to truly consider it your own in this world. Instead of enjoying the feeling of a normal mattress, your heart sinks once you realize just how far away you must be from that little village and the people that need help.  

You cradle your head in your hands and keep your eyes open just enough to glare at the warm blanket that has been thrown over you. It is too pristine; it is too much. Your whole body feels like an invisible waterfall is keeping you down and making you feel heavy. There is just so much pressure. You must have been sleeping for a while and you still feel tired but, at least, the buzzing in your head has stopped.   But just as you are about to take that as a blessing, it seems like the buzzing almost returns when a deep, authoritative voice makes someone’s presence in this room known.  

“You are awake it would seem.”  

Your gaze directs itself to the noise and you look at the person talking to you. Through the blur, you are able to make out his outline. The man is tall, even if he is sitting on a chair next to your bed. You can see that his wide shoulders are covered with an expensive cloak, and you turn your gaze away because it just serves as a reminder that he and that obnoxious woman are the same.  

But somehow, he seems even worse than her and it makes you refuse to look back at him again. The man hums to himself but you would swear that he scoffs in your direction.  

“I did imagine you would be uncooperative, but I did not imagine you would be so utterly rude. Look at me when I am speaking to you.” It sounds like a command. Like he finds it normal to demand someone’s attention.  

“I have no desire to look at you.” You try to rub your temple to lessen the pain and you can hear the chair scrape the floor as he gets up – it makes you flinch. The noise is too loud for your sensitive state and your eyebrow twitches. But, before you can turn your head to glare at him, he grabs your jaw in his hands and makes you look at him.   He seems even more imposing and powerful now. You quickly realize this is a man who demands attention, and it makes you want to yell at him. But then he softly rubs your jaw with his gloved hand and all the pain and tiredness leave your body.  

“So, it is true what the books say about the children of the sun. You are capable of healing everyone else but youself. And I am not capable of healing anyone but you. How pitiful of fate.”  

Now, you are able to finally look at him fully and only now do you see that his older, handsome face seems to show worry in his crystal eyes. This unexpected softness takes you by surprise, but you quickly move his hand away.  

“I do not know what you are talking about, but I will not say thank you because I never gave you permission to touch my face.” 

He eyes you. “Perhaps that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, but you are no longer in pain. Get dressed and come outside – I have something to show you that will answer your questions.” 

He departs and the door makes no noise as it closes after him. Of course, they wouldn’t let you keep your old rags inside of this place. But while you get dressed, in an outfit that he most likely picked for you, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.  

The man, whose name is still unknown to you, is waiting outside your door, leaning against the wall when you come outside.  

“Follow me to my personal library.” He starts to walk away and then turns his head back to look at you standing still. The glare makes your knees shake but you look at him, remaining calm.  

“I will not follow anyone unknown to me. Especially when I do not know where I am or how I got here.”  

The man scoffs again. “I am going to answer your questions while walking down this hallway to the library. It is your own personal choice if you will get a move on and follow me to hear what you wish to know.”  

You do not believe his words, but to honour them, he really keeps walking on and not looking at your direction. Without any other choice, you catch up to him. 

“My name is Pierro. How insolent to not know the name of your king. And you are, of course, in my castle and under my care.”  

When Pierro unlocks the door to his library, he does so by making dark magic appear on his fingertips. It serves as a key to enter this place and you are surprised to see a warm cup of tea waiting for you on a small table in-between two chairs. This place seems to be one he has committed his time to and it makes you realize that it is him who has doomed all of those people into poverty and despair.  

He dedicates so much to this room and leaves those people to suffer. He takes a seat and gestures that you sit across. You do, but not without sending a stern glare in his direction. He sees it but you just know that he has chosen to ignore it. He looks at you and for whatever unfathomable reason, you can see his gaze soften and his shoulders relax as you reach for the cup of tea. 

“Child of the sun, ask me whatever you wish. We will finish sooner this way.”   “Why do you keep calling me that? Sun child?”  

Pierro looks at you with a puzzled expression. “I did not...expect you to be completely unaware of what that means. Just how spiteful were your predecessors to do this?” 

Now it is your turn to be confused.  

“Tell me, do you remember anything that serves as your mission?”   “Barren people have no real meanings to create. That is the only thing that comes to my mind. And before you ask, I do not remember anything else.”  

Pierro closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. It seems like his whole body moves when he does so, his collarbones and shoulders – you notice them all. He seems powerful, but only now do you really realize how tired he is. Pierro stands up and walks past you to the bookshelf, he touches one book without a name on the cover and the book flies down into your lap. Your hands make you spill some tea on the floor, before you drop the cup to the table. When you hiss from annoyance, Pierro kneels down and takes your arm in his hold. His touch feels the same way theirs did – whoever that person was that left you the cryptic sentence.  

“Strange. You hissed, but it does not look like you were hurt.”   Pierro seems unable to let go of your arm as he continues to inspect it, his fingers trailing up and down in a soothing manner. When they get to your wrist, you pull your hand back.  

“I was simply annoyed by what happened. Is this book supposed to help me understand what you are saying?”   “It would take you a long time to read it, so I urge you to listen to me first.”  

He gets up and walks back to his chair.  

“You are the child of the sun, and I am the child of the moon. As you might notice and remember, I have been a king for such a long time, probably even before you were born. The child in the title simply refers to our...let's call it origin and legacy.”  

For some reason, you listen to this calmly and cover your mouth to hide a smile. “Ah, so you do admit your age and just how long you have unsuccessfully ruled.”  

Pierro raises an eyebrow and leans back into the chair. It seems that he is challenging you.  

“Let me see if you are predictable as much as I think you are. That comment is supposed to be an insult at the fact that under my rule there is so much poverty and barren land? Correct?”  

That makes your smile disappear and you bite the inside of your cheek.  

“See, how predictable. And tell me, have you ever wondered why so much of our land is unable to grow anything or why there is only more and more poor people every single day in this kingdom?”   “I don’t need to wonder. You are the reason for it all.”  

Pierro looks at the hatred in your eyes and it hurts your pride that he chooses to chuckle.  

“Oh, my sweet sun child, you truly know nothing of this world.” He snaps his fingers and the book opens to a glowing page that presents itself to you. 

“This land was a gift of fate. If anyone has doomed this land to almost perish it would be the both of us – or, our predecessors to be exact.”  

You continue looking at the page.  

“The King of this land has always consisted of two sides – it should have always been the two of us. One cannot rule without the other, and if they are separated the land will slowly start to destroy itself.”  

Somehow, this all scares you. “Get to the point, Pierro.”   “Do not interrupt me when I am being gracious enough to explain it to you. Would you like me to sit here while you read that book front to back for hours instead?” That sentence sounds like he is just teasing you, but it keeps you quiet.  

“Now, to continue. The sun children and the moon children are meant to share this throne to insure prosperity.”  “Then why aren’t they?”   “Because” he snaps his fingers again and the book opens itself to another page that depicts a battle. “hundreds of years ago, one of my moon predecessors fell in love with yours, but it was unrequited love. Instead of accepting it – she found his lover and banished her. By the time he came back – his lover was already too far away. And, in that pain and hurt, the two halves had a fight. Your predecessor won but he decided to hide away in this world and to slowly wait for the land to completely rot as revenge.”  

You are unable to tear your gaze away from the book in your lap – it almost seems magnetic in calling you in. You just know that what he is saying must be true.  

“And you are saying that we are both at fault because?”  “Because, regardless of you knowing nothing, we both cannot deny the blood that runs in our veins.”  

It seems like this man likes having the last word by the way he always tries to make you as speechless as possible.  

“And so...we are like, the chosen ones, who are meant to rule together and fix this?”   “Yes.”   “Well... that doesn’t seem so bad. I have always wanted to help those people. Will things go back to normal just because we will be ruling together from now on? It seems too good to be true.”   “I have to say, I wasn’t thinking you would be so...cooperative after I told you the story. Don’t you feel a duty to that predecessor and all that came after him? Some deep anger that makes you want to ruin this land further? That is what your ‘memory’ means – it calls all moon children barren. Including myself.”  

He truly does seem taken aback by your reaction to this news.  

“I can repair what they ruined then. And the remedy I was looking for is simpler than I thought it would ever be. All I need to do is rule the throne with you, correct?”  

Pierro seems to finally smile as he nods his head. Then, he stands up again searching for something inside his pocket.  

“I have been saving this for years just waiting for you to come. I thought that I would have to keep it safe for a while more even after meeting you but....”   Pierro kneels down again, but this time he doesn’t reach for your arm – he reaches for your hand. An in an instant, you feel your body freeze and go heavy again as he slips a big diamond ring on your finger.  

“Thank you, for choosing to become my spouse and to ascend the throne.” 

What? What does he mean by that? You know very well, but you suddenly feel invisible vines and waves tug on your body and fuel your anger. It feels completely unnatural. You could swear that years of anger fill up your body as your eyes see the same ring that was somewhere in the corner of that book.

“I never agreed to be your spouse!”  

You yell, but it seems like your predecessors are yelling with you. It makes you remember that at its core; all of this had to do with the power imbalance since the start. Because the moon thought itself more powerful and exiled the sun’s lover, Pierro is unable to do anything but repeat that same mistake.  

And, this isn’t completely you talking, Pierro has not done much to make you hate him so, but you have absolutely no desire to be called his anything! You jump up from your seat and tear away the ring from your finger as quickly as you can.  

“There is no need for us to get married. We can rule the throne together without that formality.”  

Pierro looks at you like you are a child that needs discipline and like you are naive beyond all words.  

“The simple remedy for this is that the two halves need to be joined together again by marriage. Are you willing to reject that because of a silly notion like true love? Will you be just like your predecessors and ruin this world by letting it rot for such a thing?”  

His words set you ablaze. Your heart is thumping against your ribs, your gaze holds more anger than ever, the invisible vines urge on your hatred because they’ve existed for years fulfilling that mission. 

“There is no reason why I should marry you!” your voice rings our loud, your body begins to be engulfed by that golden light. “You are baren!”   You cannot help but remember that village and how he could have helped them despite whatever prophecy he could be lying about right now. Your feelings grow so strong you start to get lost.  

“I will never marry you!”  

Pierro now looks at you with an unexplainable emotion. Your voice is light itself.   “Take that back! Take it back right now!” he yells, for the first time ever at you. It just makes you angrier. 

“You have no clue how fate will punish a chosen one if they refuse to fulfil their role! We are but part of a cycle. You are foolish and nothing more!” 

He reaches to grab you and to hold you, but he is too slow. Fate has already heard your choice and has chosen an appropriate punishment in return.  

Pierro falls to his knees. You are no longer inside of this room. There is despair in his words. 

“How pitiful. Will fate ever return you to me?” 

As you slip away, countless doors flash in front of your eyes. [1]

KAEYA - HE IS WILLING TO BE A TRAITOR TO EVERYONE BUT YOU. HOWEVER, THE WAY FATE PLAYS WITH HIS LOVE IS MOST UNFORTUNATE.

The air inside your mouth feels like acid and you are afraid to think deeper; afraid to force your mind as to why exactly you have been here for two days. No wonder the air feels like acid – this room hasn’t been aired out for as long as you’ve been tied to this steel door. The room is spacious enough but without any light. Your hands are tied by a thin chain but that is enough to keep you here. The red marks on your wrist are painful and prove how getting out of these is a challenge you have not been able to overcome.   Perhaps, in this world, you were meant to play the role of someone skilled enough to deal with this – but you feel ordinary and helpless.   No food or water has entered your body for two days - at least it feels that way to you by your internal clock. It could be longer – perhaps you were blessed to enter this world without even knowing who brought you here or why.  

But even that could have a more morbid answer. Lucky or unlucky? You’d try to answer that question but from the weakness of your body and mind – you would sleep and wake up with aching joints. Nobody came to visit you or to interrogate you. Why were you here? Why were you so unfortunate? Nobody in your state would be able to think rationally. Hopelessness was the only thing that filled you up through it all.  

You awake with your head on the dusty cement floor. Until now you were able to sleep while leaning against the steel door so waking up amongst all the dust and filth makes you realize just how weak you really became. It is not like anyone blames you – humans were not meant for these situations. But somehow you get angry for being unable to do anything. Self-pity misdirected makes your eyes well up with tears and you can’t help but to let out a loud cry as you tug and rattle the chains.  

Helpless. Despairing. Perilous.   Even those words seem too light and abstract for what you are actually going through right now. Where is hope and just what is it? You know philosophers always claimed that to be a human being is to cling to it, but, you find absolutely nothing to stretch your arms out for. So you cry and resign to it. You completely give up hope. You’re too far gone and too weak – you know that crying will tire you out – but you continue to do it. Rationality is as pointless as your current state.  

And just as your last drop of hope slips away; just as your tears enlarge and your mouth gets filled with spit - some light shines through. Seeing how it stops just before you makes you cry more. The light won’t even touch you. If you had any hope before this you would lose it all over again.

You are on the floo;, panting and crying uncontrollably. You remember nobody. Are you supposed to think someone is willing to come and save you?  

But, fate does not care what you think. It has its own way of doing what it desires and of toying with you as it might.   Someone kneels down. The only thing you can make out are the black boots they are wearing. Your eyes try to find their face – but your tears make it impossible to truly see this person.  

If they are saying something, you can’t make it out. If they are a friend or a foe – you have no way of knowing. The only thing your ears pick up on is the slightest click sound. The chains hit the ground and it seems that your body deems that reason enough to make you fall asleep again. 

For some reason – it feels like relief. 

 The next time you wake up you are still able to faintly smell the same dust and dirt from that room. But this time, besides feeling weak, your body feels lighter than ever. You are no longer in chains or against cold metal. You realize that you are in a bed and that while the covers are clean – you still smell the same scent because it is coming from you.  

But you are finally saved and safe. How could a weak human bring themselves to care about the dirt when they are finally able to breathe and move their body? It doesn’t matter how slow you are or how foggy your head is – something about finally being safe makes your eyes tear up again.  

‘You’ve been crying far too much lately.’ - odd how your thought seems to take up a completely different tone than you expected it to. Would this be the same self-pity playing the role of self-hatered?   It isn’t until someone’s fingers wipe away the tears from your cheeks that you realize it wasn’t your voice at all.  

“You do have a tendency to cry more after I ask how you are but..I didn’t expect it would extend to after I saved you, you know.”  

Your soul recognizes him. Your heart knows that voice and that tone. Your hands rush to grab his wrists and your grip is so unrelenting that Kaeya cannot help but to chuckle.  

“I am so glad you are here Kaeya! Oh thank you. A thousand times do I thank you!”  

Kaeya looks lovingly at your cheeks, before he leans down to press a soft kiss to both of them. You’re still gripping his wrists and it makes Kaeya note how shaky your hands are. Makes him note how warm your cheeks are from all those tears.   He far too easily makes his wrists slip away before he embraces you.   “There, there. I promised I would make up my debt to you.”   His voice is the softest it has ever been and you don't want to move.

All you did was offer him a room in your house to stay the night because he was drenched in the heavy rainpour. He called that his debt to you. Something in his eyes made you wonder if he was ever extended any kindness before.  

You never thought it would return to you like this. 

“As touching as this reunion of ours truly is, you have to let go of me, you know?” He says it in that special voice – endearing annoyance is the name you’ve decided to call it.  

“Luckily, you weren’t physically hurt and I only had to clean up small scratches on your legs and arms. But you do need to let me go.”  “What if I refuse?”  “If you refuse then you are missing out on all the commodities I am so generous to share. Water, a warm soup made by your truly, and a nice bath to finally get rid of all the filth.”  

You roll your eyes and let him go. Kaeya sits up on the bed and looks down at you.  

“Traveller Kaeya, are you that impressed by what you see?”   He smiles. “Yes, how did you know? The lint in your hair is the same shape as a frog it seems to me.” 

As he laughs you throw the covers over him and stand up. You’d love to make your point and go to the table by yourself, but you stand still because the floor feels dizzying. Kaeya walks to your side and takes your hand without waiting for you to ask. He leads you to the table and it reminds you of the night the two of you danced in front of a tavern under the night sky. Kaeya got kicked out for some debt, but he said the music was still in the air and how it would be a shame not to dance to it.  

You never noticed his strength until now. His steadiness and his calm that washes over you to soothe. Is it just because of the situation, or is he actually stronger than your previous interactions have suggested? Something makes him shine in your eyes.

 “Ah, has anyone ever told you that the way you gulp down water after being trapped for two days is most charming? No? Well,” Kaeya extends his hand and takes the cup away from you, “it is not. Slow down, or you will upset your stomach.”  

You glare at him but still lay your cup down on the table because you know that he is right. If you overdo it right now you will just make things worse for yourself. You mumble a small thank you as you eye the soup bowl in front of you. It is still warm by the slight steam it gives off and you instinctively curl your hands around it.   This small return to domesticity brings a smile to your face.  

“Kaeya, where is the spoon?”   You look at him and he waves a finger.  

“Na-ah, you don’t think I would let you feed yourself with shaky hands and spill this soup I’ve worked so hard for, do you? Obviously, to ensure a quick recovery, I will be the one to feed you.”  

You curl your arms around the bowl and bring it closer to you.   “What?! I can feed myself!”   “Do not be foolish. You couldn’t even walk over to the table alone. Let me feed you, and then your strenght will return. You still need to take a bath by yourself.”  

Kaeya’s left hand reaches for your bowl and he brings it to the middle of the table again as he sits down next to you.  

“Don’t think of this as something humiliating. I am just trying to help. Let me.”  

Perhaps both of you are stubborn. But you are aware of your state enough to relent. Kaeya takes careful scoops of soup before he brings the spoon to your mouth.  Somehow it doesn’t feel as odd as you imagined it would be. And the soup, with small pieces of bread inside of it, does make you feel warm and full. Small steps are the way to go.  

After that meal, your strength does return. Your body realizes it is no longer in danger and Kaeya directs you to the bathroom. He says you should be quick about it and that the bathtub is already filled with warm water.  

“You’re the only person I know who exclusively owns blue towels Kaeya. These feel very high quality and they’re so soft! Where did you get them?”  “They were a gift. I don’t think I ever bought towels myself before...”   “You....that is weird. You’re odd.”  “If you are going to criticise my choice of obtaining towels, you are welcome to take a bath without one.”  

Kaeya is cleaning up the table as he says that and you can just tell how proud he feels of that witty comeback because he knows it will shut you up. 

“No, no. I apologise for questioning such deep intricacies of your life.” As an afterthought it comes to you that you have wished to ask Kaeya something all this time. So you do as you grab the doorknob to the bathroom.  

“Hey Kaeya? How did you know I was held captive for two days?”  

You can hear him picking up the bowl and how it clanks.   “I came by your house two days ago to see you. Your neighbours told me you didn’t come back that day. That is when I started looking for you.”   “I see. To be honest I was so hopeless I forgot I had anyone to worry about me. It felt like I forgot anyone from this world.” 

As youu close the door behind you, Kaeya isn’t sure if he should thank or curse fate. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in Kaeya’s clothes, you notice that he is not in the house. The dishes from dinner are drying on the rack and you know he must have just finished washing them. He should be close, right?  

Perhaps it is just your body reacting harshly after what happened to you but you think how you won’t be able to calm down until you can see Kaeya inside of this house again. You take deep breaths to assure yourself as you set off to find him. Instinctively, you put your hands in the pockets of these pants because it makes you feel safer. Something cold touches your hand.   You pull it up and realize it is a pocket knife.  

It doesn’t surprise you. Kaeya is a traveler and pocket knives are handy. Once, he used it to fix up your porch. And then another time, he used it to help you peel some apples for the pie you wanted to bring over to your neighbour. He was quite handy with it.  

You put the pocket knife back in its place and continue to walk on, but, as you pass the kitchen door to get into the hallway – you halt.  

Something doesn’t feel right. You grip the pocket knife again and pray to God that you are wrong. That this gut instinct is just your panic throwing you in for a loop. Your hands shake again, not from weakness but from fear, as you scramble to pull out the pocket knife again.  

And there it stands – a crest. Something about it makes your stomach drop. This crest is on Kaeya’s pocket knife. You saw this crest on the towels you used as well. This diamond shape with a bird inside – why does it make you feel dreadful? Why? What does it remind you of?  

The memory makes you drop the knife onto the floor. Thank God it was closed and you didn’t get hurt. You still have time to decide to leave or to stay. You must make a choice. That crest comes back as a misty memory, it was on the chest of someone that took you that night as you were walking by the forest path. You just remember the crest. And that is all you need. 

You mind refuses to risk anything anymore. Kaeya would probably have an explanation for this, but your feet are running out of the backdoor before you are able to convince yourself to listen to it.  

Kaeya is outside of his front door. Two of his underlings have dared to come to his private house. They have dared to question his choices.  

“Sir Kaeya, this isn’t right! We all know king Pierro’s orders. We captured them and you set them free. Not to mention how you brought them to your own house!” 

Kaeya continues to listen to them with a blank face. It seems like they are scared more of Pierro than him. How foolish. Kaeya is the one they report to. Kaeya is the elite spy Pierro uses in only cases of emergencies.  

“Are you quite done making a fool of yourself and questioning your superior? The only reason you are here is to distract the other people. But you have dared to question my methods and my loyalty. Do you consider this a betrayal of your king? Once he hears of how you have acted without my orders, I assure you, he will consider your acts treacherous. Not mine.”  

He turns around to leave but not before he adds: “Approach them one more time and I swear that you will live to regret it.”

Kaeya dismisses them with that threat and retreats back into the house.  They were not wrong in the slightest.  He stopped following the orders long ago in his heart – as soon as he met you in fact. Because you were kind enough to see a spy, an assassin, and without knowing that – you took pity on him and showed him shelter from the rain. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take you back to the king.   He was hoping to ease his way into your life – he was hoping to keep you protected from the secret search of this kingdom – then he would convince you to move with him to places that would ensure safety.  

But, those fools had captured you. They had done what he refused to. He saved you after two days to make them less suspicious. This way, he was hoping to convince you to run away with him right when your strenght returned. In just a few days. 

But, Kaeya has to curse the toying of fate again. When he enters the house, he sees the back door is completely open.  

He didn’t get the chance to explain anything to you. And, he would run after you right now. He knew he was able to catch up. But he chooses not to because he can see the ugly scribbling you’ve left behind in rushed handwriting. Your hands must have been shaking too. Were you still wearing the clothes he chose for you?

Only one word is there.  Just one.   Traitor. 

And that is something Kaeya has been called his whole life.   Maybe one day, fate will take mercy on you both.  [2]

Lore drop time for this series. possibly the biggest one. i wasn't sure if it would be clear so i decided to write this.

[1] - The reader is actually under two 'curses'. The first one comes from dottore's chapter - that is the curse that makes them forget everything when they 'reset'. The second one is from Pierro's chapter - the one that makes them constantly switch places because they made the wrong choice.

[2] - It is important to remember that while this series is set in the same universe, the switches happen in alternative dimensions. Yes, the characters still know one another where appropriate but their relationships with the reader shape up that specific reality. Sometimes things carry over into multiple realities, sometimes they do not.

If you have any questions I will be most excited to answer them!

Taglist:

Because I appreciate your feedback so much I can give you a small synopsis: Dottore gives free reign to some of his clones because at the end it will still serve them all to have more experience. This particular clone, that is a faucet of dottore's academic drive for knowledge and discovery, comes to inazuma to research an old fable that people call evil. Reader is ayato's childhood friend; wanting to make a grand discovery of themselves but not wanting to live according to strict rules inazuma has for legacy families. They meet dottore after another argument with ayato and decide his trial and error mirrors their inner journey. Basically, reader wants to be something more and ayato and dottore offer differing views of what the path of being something more needs to be. Oh, and prime dottore shows up too; out of curiosity but also to analyse just wtf is going on with this clone according to love and suffering?? its a vv big idea lasj