#albelumi

Snow fell last night and the mountains through my window reminded me of Dragonspine.

And of course these two smug cuties. I know everybody is having trust issues since the latest event but hey, we love Albedo nevertheless right? …Right?

I’ll continue to love him anyway. Albedo is one of my fav characters in the game and he has an interesting storyline.

He also came home so I’m overjoyed. ☺️

This is My: Genshin Ship Tier List

wanna see long haired Lumi in game

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 7 | Free Day | AO3
Summary: She makes a fist without being asked, and he gives her a faint smile before he opens his mouth, offering a brief view of his pointed incisors before he bites down. Lumine does not flinch, not anymore. She watches serenely as he feeds, ever polite, ever elegant despite the nature of the process.
Notes: Ending the week with a vampire AU!! thank you everyone who’s followed along for the week, and thank you to the mods who hosted!!! <3

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Albedo is soundless when he slips through the door, but Lumine has grown more used to registering his presence and looks up in time to see him crossing the space to her desk. He smiles at her as he approaches, and she merely looks back down at the paperwork she is going through as though she were not interrupted. 

“That time already?” she asks idly, and she feels rather than sees him take a seat. 

“Yes. But I will wait,” Albedo replies amiably, and gives him a grateful arch of her brow.

It takes a little longer than she would have liked to reach a good stopping point. She sets down her pen and leans back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes, though she doesn’t get very far before she feels a feather-light touch on the back of her hand. 

“That’s not good for your vision,” Albedo says softly, and she looks up at him blearily, putting her hands in her lap with a sigh. 

“Neither is staring at paperwork for so long,” she says ruefully, looking a little despairingly at what she has left. 

“Then perhaps now is a good time for a break, to indulge me?" 

"I would hardly call this an indulgence." 

But she holds out her hand, and Albedo trails a finger down the length of her forearm. He chooses a vein, then loosens his cravat to tie it tightly around her arm. He taps at her skin, then glances up briefly. She makes a fist without being asked, and he gives her a faint smile before he opens his mouth, offering a brief view of his pointed incisors before he bites down.

Lumine does not flinch, not anymore. She watches serenely as he feeds, ever polite, ever elegant despite the nature of the process. He has always treated this so…medically that even during the first time, it never felt wholly wrong. 

As she watches him this time, however, a thought floats up to the forefont of her brain, a stupid curiosity that she is voicing before she can stop herself. (Later, she will blame it on her fuzzy mind, a result of overworking.)

"Do you ever drink from elsewhere?” she asks, and Albedo lifts his head, blinking in surprise, his teeth still red. 

“I…well, yes, sometimes,” he says, glancing down at the punctures on her arm. “But the arm is…easier.”

“And the neck?" 

"The neck?”

“Yes. Like in the classic stories." 

Albedo tilts his head, eyes a little wider, almost innocent, though there is a particular gleam as well. 

"Why…are you asking?" 

"Curiosity, I suppose. Your method is very different from the stories, from what I’ve seen.”

He chuckles a little, then bends back down to swipe the blood surfacing from his bite with his tongue. In the next moment, he’s wrapping a clean bandage around her arm.  

“The neck can be easier in other ways,” he concedes, his focus on his task, “But it can also be…dangerous.”

“How so?" 

"You’ve larger and more important veins there. They require more pressure afterwards, and if you are not terribly careful with the bite to begin with, then you could very well kill someone. It is why the classic stories feature it thus, as we…did not care about being careful.”

Lumine taps her fingers a couple times on her desk. 

“And that is why the Hunts against your kind became so fevered.”

Albedo inclines his head.

“Just so." 

They are silent for a moment as he finishes wrapping her arm, the extent of the bandage a little more excessive than usual. Lumine does not pull her hand back when he finished, and nor does he remove his own.

"But it’s possible?” she says, the question seeming too loud in the air, “To drink from the neck, without killing.”

Albedo sits back, his eyes narrowing a little.

“Most things are possible,” he says, the implication of but that does not mean they should all be attempted clear. 

Lumine hums, considering.

“I’d like you to indulge me,” she says, and he draws in a sharp breath.

He stares at her, almost in disbelief. She can tell that he is mapping out the reasons why she offers—there’s a few, really. At present, he needs to feed often from her, and she can tell from the amount he takes at a time that it is not quite enough to satiate him. When he does feed, it’s always from the arm, which makes for a sore spot due to the frequency. If he were able to draw from her neck, while she might be more tired after, it would sustain him longer. And…it’s an exercise of trust, yes between a vampire and the Lightbearer, which would go a long way in repairing reputation.

But most of all, it is an extension of trust between them as individuals. 

Even so. Such a thing favors Albedo wholly, and he gazes at her, trying to determine what the benefit is for her.

She smiles, understanding the unspoken question.

“It’s a secret,” she says, only a little mischievously, “Are you willing to find out?”

His brow furrows lightly, and he leans forward, highly hesitant. But she begins to unbutton the high neck of her dress, pulling back the collar to reveal her slender neck, and he will not pretend disinterest; he cannot hide the hunger that lights his eyes.

“Be gentle, will you?” she teases, and he tilts his head.

“Am I not always?” he asks, and her eyes crinkle.

“Yes,” she says, quietly. “Sometimes, too much so.”

It is silent between them again.

Lumine pulls back her collar even further; Albedo meets her eyes again, then looks to her neck. He trails his fingers down its length as he did with her arm, then hovers his lips just above her skin.

After a moment, she feels wetness of his tongue, then the slight prick of his teeth before they sink in entirely. She lets out a small noise—it is a new sensation, in a new location—but Albedo does not pull back.

Hedrinks.

The new position is exquisitely intimate, and the longer they stay that way the faster she feels her heart beat. She begins to feel dizzy—though she doesn’t know whether it’s from the heat flushing her body or blood loss. She doesn’t know how long his lips have been on her neck, but it’s not in protest when she reaches up a hand and twines her fingers into his hair.

She feels it when he drinks deep, and a gasp escapes as he does so. In the next moment he’s pulling back as though ripping himself from her, putting a hand over her puncture wounds and pressing down, reaching for bandages again.

She’s a little dazed. Lumine allows him his ministrations, but there’s a stiffer manner to him now, as though he is relying on the politeness rather than extending it the natural way he usually does.

“Was that enough of an indulgence?” he asks quietly as he steps back, and it takes a minute for Lumine to answer him, distracted by his lashes, the way he won’t look at her, the way his own pale skin is suffused with just a hint of color.

“Perhaps,” she murmurs. “And for you?”

He looks at her sharply, his brows knitted in what seems like irritation or confusion. But she smiles. He can be distant, yes, and may be lacking in interpersonal skills. But he is a smart man, too, and she can tell that he is coming to realize just what it is she’s gained from the interaction.

A break in his defenses.

“You walk a dangerous line,” he says quietly, his hands curling into fists before he hides them behind his back.

“I always do; it is part of my work.”

He says nothing, looking at the ground. She is not offended by his reticence and leans back in her seat, glancing out the window at the shifting night that never lifts.

“The years are long, Albedo,” she finally says, her voice soft, “And very empty.”

He goes still at the familiar sentiment voiced aloud. There are not many as long-lived as they.

It is only now that he comes to realize their meeting may not only have been a miracle to him.  

“…They are,” he says soberly.  

There is no more room to hesitate, he supposes. He’d thought to allow her space where he could, when he’d already occupied her body to sustain himself—but she continues to draw him.

And creatures such as him are greedy—though such is his own nature, as well.

He gives a defeated sigh and walks back to her, perching himself on the arm of her chair.

She looks up at him, holds out her hand. He bends down and presses her palm to his cheek, then turns his lips to the inside of her wrist.

“It does not have to be,” he murmurs, and her laugh is a little choked, as well.

He presses a kiss against her lips—chaste, too gentle. She sighs against his mouth, and leans into his side after they part.  

They sit there for some time, still and silent, holding each other’s hands, taking comfort that they no longer have to walk through the darkness alone.    

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 6 | Promise | AO3
Summary: “Just promise me you will be careful,” he says, and Lumine smiles, squeezing his hands.
Notes: *spins wheel* today we get a school AU, vaguely yandere albedo, and genki delinquent lumine. sure, why not. i have no control over anything. <3

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“Lumine.”

She freezes in position, her arm half-wrapped, then turns around slowly, a sheepish smile on her face.  

“Hi, ‘Bedo,” she says, hiding her arm behind her back in vain, but his expression doesn’t soften at the use of the nickname. “Is your class over already?”

“Yes.” His eyes flick over to the roll of bandages still in sight, then sets his books down and takes a seat across from her. “And you skipped again, I see.”

Albedo holds out his hand, and Lumine sighs before putting out her injured arm. He finishes the wrapping job for her, better than she could have done alone, and the tension eases out of her shoulders when she realizes he isn’t mad—at least not at her.

“The Fatui,” she explains, his silence questioning even if he hadn’t asked verbally. “Aether and Xiao got suspended for practically destroying the east wing, so…it’s just me. Well, and a few others, but they’ve got exams coming up.”

“You’re a target now,” he says, staring into her eyes. He has not released her hand yet, and she doesn’t pull back. “It’ll only get worse. Fights have always been part of this academy, but the one shouldering so many of them does not have to be you.”

She stares back, then gives him a sad sort of smile before she leans her forehead against his.

“It doesn’t, I guess,” she agrees, “But it is. Aether and I are the outsiders, and we have a bit of a reputation. You know what they call us, right? The Travelers. It’s probably the nicest moniker we’ve ever gotten, for being expelled out of so many schools. We’re just…a little too strange, and a little too good at fighting.”

Albedo frowns.

“You are hardly the strangest thing in Teyvat.”

“But if I weren’t, how could I have caught your eye?”

“…I like you more than just your being strange, you know.”

“Youare sweet, Albedo.”

“Lumine.”

She laughs.

“I’m okay, really. Once Aether comes back, it’ll be easier. It’s a lot harder to get expelled here since they encourage so much…diverse development, and we have the Student Council backing us. And our patrons. Some of the fights aren’t so bad, really, I just…I’m not used to doing so much of it without Aether.”

Albedo hums.

“You could ask for my help.”

“No way. You’re in the crux of your thesis. I need to fight so you can research in peace.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’ve been extra reckless lately?”

Her eyes widen as she realizes her misstep. He looks smug at catching her so easily and neatly, and she huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face.

“Isaid I’m just not used to fighting without Aether.”

He cups her cheek, brushing a thumb over the bruise that is beginning to darken there.

“You don’t have to be the savior of Teyvat,” he says wryly, “We learn to work with…excessive distractions here, and my focus will not be broken so easily. You needn’t injure yourself on my account.”

“As much as I like you, it’s not only for you,” she says, just a little teasingly. But the humor fades as she frowns. “There’s…something else that’s going on behind the scenes. Aether and I have been asked to look into it.”

Albedo raises a brow, questioning, and Lumine sighs before she leans in and drops her voice to a whisper.

“The Archons, of the old Hidden Council—Teyvat’s patrons. There seems to be some kind of rift. You know Venti and Zhongli, the spokesmen for Barbatos and Rex Lapis?  They’ve been targeted more than once. I don’t know who the others are, but…if it gets really bad, then it could affect the whole school.”

Albedo leans back, thinking.

“This is a lot for transfer students to get involved in.”

“But it’s precisely because we have no history with this place at all that we’re the best options.”

Albedo frowns again, but relents with another sigh. He is concerned, yes, but to hound her for situation that she does not entirely have control over would bring her undue stress, and she is under enough already, in her own way. He has to trust her, just as she does him.  

“Just promise me you will be careful,” he says, and Lumine smiles, squeezing his hands.

“I promise. And I promise I will come to you for help if I really need it,” she tells him, and earns a smile in return.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Oh! One more thing.”

Lumine reaches into her bag, then pulls out an odd pointy blue object, putting it into Albedo’s hands. He looks closely at it, turning it over and analyzing its characteristics by habit.  

“What’s this?”

“A tusk from an ancient whale, or something? You said that your project would be better supported if you had something like that to work with, right?”

He blinks at her.

“How…did you get this?”

Lumine twiddles her fingers.

“I…may have an arrangement with the Eleventh Harbinger…he has all these connections and if he wants to fight me every week, I should get something useful out of it when I win, right?”

She looks pleadingly at him as he stares at her in slight disbelief. He feels a mix of emotions—concern, again, that she made a bargain with a Harbinger, but also warmth, that she should remember such a passing mention during one of his long-winded musings.

In the end he laughs, deciding to simply marvel at her capabilities. She always manages to surprise him, in one way or another.

“Thank you,” he says, and is pleased when she beams at him.

A commotion outside draws their attention, and Albedo gathers up his books and the tusk into his bag while Lumine shrugs herself back into her leather jacket and swings her spiked baseball bat up onto her shoulder. She frowns when they peek outside, and the crowd that has gathered parts for her as she walks forward.

“Tartaglia,” she coos, though her eyes glint dangerously and her lips turn down, “I would have thought you’d still be recovering.”

“Oh, I am,” the boy in question says cheerfully, “You broke a rib, but I have high pain tolerance. Anyway, it turns out I got a double shipment by accident, so I thought I’d deliver it myself and catch sight of the genius prince you’re so intent on spoiling.”

The Harbinger’s eyes are searching as they light upon Albedo; he holds out the additional tusk like a peace offering, and Albedo accepts it gingerly while Lumine watches, poised to strike if she needs to.

“How apt,” Tartaglia says, after a moment. “But there’s more to you that meets the eye, isn’t there?”  

Albedo shrugs, scrutinizing the second tusk to see if it differs at all from the first. Yes, there is a lighter luster to its center, and a slight nick on the left part of the calyx—

“A number of people call me a genius, but I don’t think I’m any such thing,” he replies evenly, but the other boy looks no less deterred.

“Oh, I think it’s more than that,” he says. Albedo looks up and raises a brow; Tartaglia holds up his hands with a chuckle when he feels the nails of Lumine’s bat poke into his throat. “Alright, alright. I’ve done what I came for, and neither of us are in the right condition for another confrontation.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lumine snorts, maintaining her position. “I may prefer you to the other Harbingers, but don’t push your luck.”

“Now that’s flattering,” Tartaglia purrs, as he backs up a few steps.

Lumine interposes herself in front of Albedo, planting her bat in the ground and standing defensively, glowering. Tartaglia chuckles and takes his leave—but turns back to throw one last look over his shoulder, one last quip prepared.

However—Lumine is momentarily distracted by Albedo peeling open a bandaid to stick to her cheek, turning her head towards him.

“Don’t move,” he says gently, keeping her head still with one hand. “Your hair was covering this before.”

She obeys, glaring at Tartaglia out of her corner of her eye when she notices him hanging back.

But the prince too is looking at the Harbinger, his gaze pointed and warning, eyes shadowed. His fingers are on Lumine’s cheek, where she had been scratched during their last battle.

“…Careful,” Albedo says quietly, his gaze still direct and unwavering, and Tartaglia’s lips quirk up at the mildly delivered threat. “If this gets to be too much, I might have to look into destroying a campus.”

“You’d definitely get expelled for that,” Lumine huffs, and Albedo chuckles, glancing back at her.

“Thatwould be a problem, wouldn’t it? I suppose you’ll have to stop me if it comes to that.”

“It won’t,” Lumine says, raising a brow and crossing her arms. She hesitates before adding grudgingly, “…The Eleventh’s not that bad.”

“The other Fatui can be though…but we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” Albedo smiles, inclining his head towards Tartaglia. “My gratitude for your part in getting these rare research materials. I’d appreciate it if you continued to…play nice.”

Tartaglia grins as his skin prickles, and his eyes gleam with interest. But now isn’t the right time to test the prince’s mettle.

“It was nice meeting you,” The Harbinger says, his gaze lingering before he turns away, and Albedo waves while Lumine simply watches him go.

“You’re right. He really isn’t so bad,” Albedo says amiably, once the other boy has truly gone. “Even so…he’s liable to become troublesome.”

She gives him an amused smile.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she says, bumping him with her shoulder, “But if I come across something I can’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

Albedo smiles back, then catches her hand to press his lips against its back.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says.  

They continue down the hall, the other students either staring in awe or darting out of the way.

The two carry on, unconcerned, as those likened to gods do.  

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 5 | Jealousy | AO3
Summary: Jealousy, in three parts. 
Notes: trying out some different characterization than my usual?? jealousy isn’t something i tend to go for, but it’s also for that reason that made me start thinking how it might work for these two?? O:

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Lumine feels his stare like a brand upon her back, and she itches to turn, to meet his stare with her own.

She does not, but is also not above maneuvering herself so that she can glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Albedo is unashamed in his scrutiny, and if he needed an excuse, there is a sketchpad in his hand, a stick of charcoal in the other. A familiar sight amongst the populace of Mondstadt.

Kaeya leans down to speak against her ear, closer than necessary.

“Like a hawk,” he says, with a mischievous smile, “There is no escaping a gaze like that.”

“How fortunate I’ve no intention of escaping,” she drawls, and Kaeya throws back his head and laughs.

“Am I about to incur our dear Chief Alchemist’s wrath?” he says, amused, and Lumine tilts her head, thinking.

“You look as though you want to see it. But no; I suspect he is figuring out how to balance his normally amiable feelings towards you, and the displeasure that he feels now. He would not act upon what he does not quite understand so hastily.”

Kaeya raises a brow.

“You know him well,” he says admiringly, then pauses as he considers her words. “Oh…so I’m not the only one who’d like to see him crack a little, is that it?”

Lumine smiles, stretching out her arms above her head, casual as can be.

“Who’s chasing who?” she asks, and Kaeya laughs again.

“Good luck,” he says anyway with a shrug, but Lumine’s returning smile is sharp.

“I won’t need it,” she says, her tone absent and airy, “He’s already mine.”

Kaeya gives her one last amused look and a pat on the shoulder before they part.

Albedo’s gaze is no less intense even when she speaks to him, but she pretends ignorance and goes about her business as usual. His eyes are drawn to her whenever they are in the same vicinity, and she feels their weight more and more frequently as the days go on. She says nothing, lets him look.

His gaze burns and burns and burns, and she soaks it up, as though the heat is hers to begin with.

T W O.

Her stare is like a breeze—ever-present, caressing, transient. She’s gone by the time he turns to look for her; at most he occasionally glimpses her hair or skirt. Her attention is not unwelcome, but it makes him…twitchy, the constant slight weight of her eyes, lifting the moment he addresses it.

It affects his mood, over time; even Sucrose notices when he scatters vials of powder over the alchemy bench one too many times. Kaeya finds his restlessness amusing, and Albedo—can’t look at him, for more reasons than one.

Lumine herself isn’t avoiding him, no matter how fleeting her stare. They speak at regular intervals—about work, about alchemy, about their daily lives. But there’s a strange—performativity to it, almost, or something like it. Her eyes are knowing, half-taunting, and when he parts with her he feels a sense of disappointment, as though he’s failed to grasp something.

Her gaze becomes soft pressure, and he feels a little like a mouse in a maze. It becomes a stronger sort of pressure when he meets Mona at the gates and invites her for dinner, when he sits down to listen to Barbara, when he sketches portrait after portrait of Huffman. Albedo is not afraid, but it does touch upon some sort of instinct.

It feels as though she is everywhere, like wind or light—intangibly present. It makes him frustrated, just a little, this consistent grabbing at smoke, the chasing for some end result only to have it flutter out of reach.

“It’s Big Sis Lumi!”

Klee’s voice and words cause him to jerk his head around perhaps a little too sharply to where she is pointing. His sister does not notice his haste, too busy jumping and waving at Lumine, who is a atop the plaza wall, overlooking the city.  

The Traveler gives a lazy wave, and even at this distance, she meets Albedo’s eyes. He does not think he mistakes the curl of her lips before she hoists her legs over the edge and disappears towards the cathedral.

“I wonder what she was looking at?” Klee muses.

“I wonder,” Albedo echoes absently.

They’re like lightning, sometimes, her eyes. Bright, flashing. Stirring. He feels the slight breeze of her beginning to storm, waiting and watching for him, and he—

He wants to pin her down, wants her solid between his hands. Wants the shock of her, the crackle, the violence of the strike not once, but twice.

T H R E E.

“I owe you an apology.”

He skims his fingers on her table outside Angel’s Share, and Lumine blinks up at him from her drink. She tilts her head to indicate he should sit, and he does so politely, folding his hands.

“You do?” Lumine asks curiously, and he inclines his head.

“I’ve been presumptuous,” he says, hesitating before he continues. “I will confess that since we have become closer, I find myself wanting to occupy more and more of your time.”

Her smile is catlike, her eyes bright.

“Is that so?”

“It is. I would never want to inconvenience you, and people are not meant to be…kept. And yet…”

He tilts his head, and she laughs.

“How novel,” she says, to his slight surprise.

“It does not bother you?”

She shrugs, then leans over a little and lays a hand against his collarbones, whether in an intimate gesture or to push him back against his seat, he’s not sure.

“Make no mistake, Albedo,” she says, voice low, “You are the only one to can handle me.”

It is in moments like these she makes herself known— a traveler from another world, and something other than human. There is a viciousness to her smile, even as there is trust—but with all of her focus on him at this moment, as if they are the only two in the world, all he feels is relief and gratification.    

His fingers encircle her wrist, not at all a light touch.

“Good,” he says, and his lip curls at her blink, “I look forward to seeing if you are the same for me.”

Shelaughs, delighted and unrestrained. For a second, she leans closer, her lips parting slightly as though she might kiss him—or bite—

But she pulls back, glancing to the side, and a slow clap sounds.

“What a shame. But either way, you two will be the talk of the town, now,” Kaeya says, amusement shining in his eye. “But carry on, carry on.”

“Won’t you join us?” Lumine asks innocently, gesturing to the empty seat at the table, but Kaeya laughs.

“Oh, no,” he says, pushing open the tavern’s door, “The weather seems far too dangerous out here. I’ll take my chances with the ever-so-dour Diluc.”

Lumine and Albedo turn to each other again when Kaeya goes inside, staring at one another across the table.

“Do you have some time currently?” Albedo asks, his voice polite again.

“I could spare some,” Lumine says, and Albedo smiles.

Overhead, as they leave the tavern behind, the clouds darken and the winds pick up, birds twittering their alarm. The merchants begin packing up their wares, anyone else outside hurrying home before the incoming storm breaks.  

In the slowly emptying city, Lumine and Albedo take their time as they stroll about the ramparts.  

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 4 | Corrupted | AO3
Summary: Once, it was an artist’s gaze. Now, it is a dragon’s, though not entirely lacking the artist’s, either. But it is a dragon’s nature to want to keep, and he finds that desire more…palpable, lately. 
Notes: the one fic for the week that i actually have finished in advance LOL. for today’s prompt we get…dragonbedo. :3

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He perches atop the cliff, looking out at the scenery. There is not much to see here, not even for the miles that his exceptional vision affords him, but he is less looking and more sensing. No dangers, aside from the usual inhabitants of the isle that he does not consider a threat. Good. May it stay that way, though he would welcome the diversion. He rustles his wings, restless. The itch is bearable now, but will become less so if it remains quiet for too long. 

A thin, high-pitched whistle floats through the air; it is faint, very faint, but he hears it nonetheless. He takes flight, dark wings angling him towards the sound as he scans the crags for the voice’s owner. 

“Albedo? Where are you?”

His ears perk up at his name, and he folds his wings in and dives, snapping them back out to flutter down the rest of the distance. Lumine smiles even as she shields her face against the gust of wind, then holds out a hand, and he stretches his neck out to place his muzzle against her palm. As he does so, his draconic hide falls away, reverting him back to human form, though his wings and horns remain, as do some of the scales along his arms and legs.

“Here,” he says, smiling back, as he presses her hand closer to his own cheek. 

“You’re chilled,” she accuses as she rubs a thumb across his skin, but he merely shrugs.

“It does not bother me,” he replies, though he has a dim awareness of the cool air now that he is not in dragon form. 

“Even so.”

He gazes back at her, taking in all the angles of her face, the glint of her eyes once again. Her hair has grown longer since their first meeting. Albedo never tires of staring at her and marking each and any minute change that occurs; he has committed every detail otherwise to memory, and she bears his continued scrutiny with patient amusement. Once, it was an artist’s gaze. Now, it is a dragon’s, though not entirely lacking the artist’s, either. But it is a dragon’s nature to want to keep, and he finds that desire more…palpable, lately. 

But he remembers that it is she who keeps him, draws him back from the precipice of danger. The melding between dragon and human is—more natural than he could’ve hoped when it happened, thanks to her tethering. He retains his clarity, his sanity; he can still perform alchemy, pursue it, pursue the truth of the world as his mentor wanted past his previous scope. But he wanders, within his mind; it is his nature to chase, to go further than he did before, and thus skirt what he should not.

It was how he ended up the way he is, of course. 

“Are you still with me?”

He blinks, dragging himself out of his thoughts, the sense of keep keep keep mine, mine receding to a less potent want. Her eyes are still amused, as if she can guess the vein of his thoughts, as though she’d like to see him try. He does not realize how hard he is pressing her hand against his cheek now, trapping her where she is, though she has not tried to pull away, either. 

“Yes, of course,” he says, after a belated pause, and she wiggles her fingers against his grip.

“Come inside them,” she says, tilting her head back towards the cave they are currently inhabiting. "I thought you were teaching me more khemia scripts today.”

He loosens his hold just enough for her to slip her hand away, but when she walks away, he trails closely behind her. Even now she is the light, the beacon. He charts his course by her voice. 

Albedo reaches out again, his hands still curved to claws at the tips, his eyes intent on her retreating figure.

Without turning, she reaches over, catching his wrist, drawing his arms around her shoulders.   

“If you were cold, you need simply say so,” she murmurs. 

He blinks, then chuckles a little.

“Yes, that is it,” he says, sighing into the curve of her neck.

She pats his hand, the pretenses obvious between them, and leads him back into the warm darkness.

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(It is a stranger who finds him on the ground in the red cave, gripping his own heart as Durin’s pulsates behind him. But she is familiar nonetheless: her golden eyes, the shape of her nose, the patterns on her clothes—all of it is familiar, and even through the dark poison clouding his mind, he is surprised. 

“Lumine,” he struggles to say, and she raises an eyebrow, but does not seem that perturbed that he should know her name. 

“My reputation precedes me,” she says softly, walking forward and taking his chin in her hand. She turns his face to the side, just enough to see the pattern of scales from cheek to jaw. “As does yours. Hello, Albedo. Are you in need of help?”

He smiles at her bland conversational tone, as if Durin’s remains were not corrupting him, the darkness invading his mind and rending his insides, twisting them into something else. Her manner pleases him, actually; the words give him a choice, despite how obvious the answer is. He does not doubt that she would leave him to his devices if he said no; it was his own folly that brought him here, too far over the edge that he cannot return, and this is his consequence to reap. 

He would accept it gladly if he was not aware, even vaguely, how much damage he would cause to others—to the place he’s come to call home, to the people he considers family.

“And what manner of help would that be?” he forces out, trying to keep his own tone light, and her eyes gleam at his effort. 

“I cannot halt whatever transformation you will go through,” she murmurs, more apologetic than he would have expected, “But I can prevent the corrosion of your mind, should you wish it.”

Should he wish it. Yes, he supposes in the case of something like this, it might be easier to lose his mind entirely.

But he is not looking for the easypath.

She looks faintly surprised at his expression—not resignation, but interest. Even now, the desire to pursue knowledge is strong, too strong. Even now, he sees an opportunity, an impossibly rare one that would never been available to him otherwise. 

Still. He knows who she is—not only the famed Traveler’s sister whom he has searched high and low for, but the Abyss Princess. The one who left her brother behind. Despite how beautifully she presents her offer, it could be far more dangerous than anticipated, his curiosity aside.

Unfortunately, he does not have the luxury of time to negotiate the finer points. 

Pain seizes his body; he writhes, stone cutting into him as he jerks back, a choked gasp escaping his throat before he coughs violently, blood splattering onto crystal. Durin’s heart flares brighter, and it is harder to breathe, as though the very air is burning his nostrils and lungs. 

Kill! Kill! Kill her! Tear into her! Tear her into pieces! Destroy her!

Such thoughts flood his mind, and he lunges forward with one hand—

She catches it, palm to palm, twining their fingers together. For a moment he comes back to himself, whether by shock or her touch or both, and her golden eyes are close, so very close.

“I am in need of a companion,” she whispers, “And I am not afraid of the monster you will become.”

She has an inkling—or knows, then, what he will be turning into, more or less. 

He forces another breath, trying to get words out. His voice already sounds inhuman to his own ears as he tries to speak.

“My sister,” he rasps, “Mondstadt. Will you promise safety from me?" 

She meets his eyes, and for a moment he thinks that she cannot understand him through the garbled words. But her gaze is soft, and he wills himself to hang onto his last shred of clarity to hear her response.

"I will,” she says.

Albedo gives her a weak smile before he pitches forward into her arms, and the contract is sealed.)

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(Hundreds of miles away, a carefully sealed letter is left in a hole marked with “My Treasure”, weighted down by a rock to prevent its theft by wind. Some days later, a little girl uncharacteristically downcast by the weeks-long disappearance of her brother finds it. She does not recognize the handwriting, but does recognize the shaky signature at the end and the wobbly drawing that accompanies it. 

The paper crinkles in her hands, her eyes water and lips tremble, but she smooths the letter back out and places it in her backpack, hanging onto a thin hope that she will meet her brother again one day.)

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 3 | “when was the last time you slept?” | AO3
Summary: “I’mfine,” she repeats softly, as though she can convince herself to believe it if she says it enough times. 
Notes: same prompt but different timeline! featuring…ever so slightly protective albedo. :3

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“I hear you haven’t been sleeping.”

Lumine turns from her restless gardening in her Serenitea Realm, finding Albedo strolling towards her with Paimon floating beside him. She gives her fairy friend a look, and Paimon feigns innocence with extremely low effort by looking to the side and whistling.

Lumine sighs, standing up and brushing dirt off of her hands by clapping them together, keeping her head down.

“I’m fine,” she says, the words unconvincing to everyone involved, “It happens sometimes.”

Albedo raises an eyebrow, then reaches over and gently places his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up. Her eyes are bruised purple underneath; she looks exhausted, and she pinches her lips together at his frown, averting her gaze.  

“I’mfine,” she repeats softly, as though she can convince herself to believe it if she says it enough times.

“How long has it been since you last slept?”

She does not answer, and brushes his hand away.

“I am resting,” she says instead, after a while.

“That is not the same,” Albedo replies softly.

She glances at him.

“It’s all I’m capable of right now,” she responds flatly before looking away again.

Albedo and Paimon exchange a look, the former starting to fully understand just how bad the situation is. But knows and is here now, and does not intend to let the situation go unresolved.

“Will you invite me inside?” he asks politely, and Lumine blinks at him, coloring a little at her poor hospitality.

“Yes, of course,” she says hastily, gesturing. “I’m sorry—go ahead and make yourself comfortable. My hands are dirty; I’ll follow in a moment. Paimon knows where everything is.”

The fairy salutes, rushing Albedo inside. He’s been here a few times before, but the layout changes every now and then. It is lightly furnished, the Realm too newly acquired and the Traveler too busy to outfit it more extravagantly. Still—it has very serviceable basics, and Albedo gets to work.  

By the time Lumine comes in, he has a pot of tea ready, and she blinks at him.

“What’s this?” she asks somewhat suspiciously as she peeks into the pot.

The liquid is thicker than tea, but has a similar color and smell.

“A draught, to help you sleep,” he says, and Lumine looks up at him. “Without dreams,” he adds.

Her face is unreadable, but she takes the cup he pours for her and sips at it without much hesitation. It’s a little bitterer than standard tea, but she doesn’t mind the flavor. It suits her mood.

Paimon has disappeared, and Lumine knows this is a conspiracy but lets it slide. She is exhausted. Albedo leads Lumine to the plush sofa in front of the fireplace, taking a seat next to her at a polite distance. They are silent for a while, staring into the dancing flames, and Lumine drinks two cups of not-tea in theinterim before she finally speaks.

“I’ve tried sleeping draughts before,” she says quietly, looking at her hands. “They haven’t helped.”

“Ah, but they were not brewed by me,” Albedo replies, and his confidence gets a smile out of her.

“I suppose not,” she relents, but the humor drops from her face quickly. It is another long while before she speaks again. “…Aether…didn’t come home with me. How funny that Madame Ping should gift me this realm after he…”

She trails off, her eyes distant, and though she had said nothing about her most recent adventure upon her return, there is much he can already piece together from her brief admission alone.

“I am at your service, if there is any assistance I can provide you,” he says softly, after the silence has stretched awhile, startling her back into focus.

She stares at him, the directness of her gaze harsh and searching. Her lips twist as though she might lash out, but when her mouth opens, sorrow creeps into her expression instead, and she looks away.

“I thought you found interaction with others a waste of time,” she mutters, though it is a weak deflection after all this time.

It was Albedo Paimon went to for help, after all, and not without good reason. Things between them have not been so cold and distant in a while.

“I’ll not deny it, for most cases,” he says, just a hint of amusement tinting his voice, “But after meeting you, I’d rather spend my time on you than other matters. It’s a unique anomaly.”

She jerks back to stare at him, blinking in surprise.

“I likely know the reason why,” he adds, and he looks satisfied to see her cheeks go slightly pink.

She glares at him without much heat, sipping at her third cup of his not-tea to avoid responding. But then she sighs, her expression complicated again.

“Thank you,” she says simply, and for a moment she looks so fragile that the slightest touch could crumble her.

“…May I try an experiment?” Albedo asks, and Lumine tilts her head at him curiously, nodding her permission.

He scoots closer, gently pressing her head to his shoulder. He then takes her wrist in his hand, his thumb searching out her pulse.

“What…?”

“Shhh. Close your eyes.”

She tries to look up at him, but he merely smiles and covers her eyes. She huffs, but he feels her eyelashes brush his fingers as she does as he says.

“One,” he begins, keeping his voice low, “Two, three…”    

Her breathing slows after a few more counts, though he continues for a few extra moments. Once he is certain that she’s fully asleep, he lowers her onto his lap so that she can rest more comfortably.

Paimon reappears shortly after with a rich blue blanket, looking satisfied.

“Thanks,” she says quietly as she spreads it over her, and Albedo inclines his head in acknowledgement before she disappears again.

Albedo looks back down at Lumine and brushes a strand of hair away from her cheek. What she must have gone through, to wear herself down to this point. But if she found her brother once…surely she can do so again. He will help her however he can, though he will need to hear the full story from her eventually.

But even without it…he sits there through the night, making plans in his head, reorganizing and revising until he is satisfied that a handful of them will produce acceptable results. He will discuss them with Lumine when she wakes.

For now, he sits with her, his hands cradling her head, his eyes gleaming in the firelight.    

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 3 | “when was the last time you slept?” | AO3
Summary:  There’s a fireplace crackling, a plush sofa in front of it, a rich blue blanket draped over the arm. In one moment he’s trying to take in his surroundings, and in the next he is lying down on the sofa, his head in Lumine’s lap.
Notes: lap pillow. that’s it that’s the fic. (two versions for today’s prompt, because i was unsatisfied with how this version turned out and ended up rewriting it, haha. but since this was already written, it gets to see the light of day too.)

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“When was the last time you slept?”

It’s a testament to how sleep-deprived he is that he startles at her voice, the test tube in his hands slipping from his fingers. Thankfully, Lumine reaches out to catch it without spilling any of its contents.

It takes too long for Albedo to respond; he registers the question, but somehow can’t piece enough of his scattered thoughts together to formulate a proper response. Lumine looks at him, her expression stern before it softens.

She sets the test tube back on its rack and takes his hand.

“Are you at a good stopping point?” she questions gently, and he glances at the test tube again before corking it, then looks back at her in affirmation.

She tugs off one of his gloves, pulling something out of her pocket with her free hand. It’s a…talisman of some kind, he recognizes dimly.  

“A new experiment,” she tells him, pressing it against his palm with a smile.

There is a sensation like a strong wind, though he notes nothing rustles his papers, and in the next moment, he is standing in what seems like an open field.  Upon turning, however, there is a magnificent mansion towering in the middle of this place. He’s being tugged towards it before he realizes it, Lumine greeting some kind of bird spirit at the front door, and then they are inside.

There’s a fireplace crackling, a plush sofa in front of it, a rich blue blanket draped over the arm. In one moment he’s trying to take in his surroundings, and in the next he is lying down on the sofa, his head in Lumine’s lap.

“What’s this?” he finally manages to ask, turning to look up at her.

“Bedtime,” Lumine says simply, turning his head back to face the fireplace. “I don’t trust that you’ll actually sleep if I leave you alone.”

“How mean,” Albedo says faintly, but additional protest dies in his throat when he feels her fingers in his hair.

“Yes,” she says softly, “I am very mean.”

He chuckles, his eyes fluttering closed as she begins unraveling his braids, brushing them out with her fingers. A low moan escapes him when she digs her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp, and he feels the tension in his head fade away. He murmurs something incoherent, but she doesn’t bother to ask him to repeat it.

“Where is this place?” he mumbles, and Lumine hums.

“A gift from an adeptus. A temporary home. You’re my first guest.”

“What an honor. It is pleasant here.”

“Pleasant enough to sleep?”

“Yes,” he says, but he turns to face her again. He is drowsy indeed, especially now that he is lying down, but he is more reluctant than usual to let unconsciousness claim him. “It seems a waste, however, to sleep while you are here.”

“A waste of what?” she asks, slightly teasing.

“In your company, I never lack inspiration…this would actually be the best time to continue working. And you’ve produced a whole realm to conduct experiments in…”

She presses her hands against his cheeks, squishing them lightly.

“Unfortunately, you’re not going anywhere just yet,” she says, amused, and Albedo gazes up at her.

“How mean,” he says again.

“Will you give me a reason to be nice?” she replies, her eyes crinkling, and he reaches up a hand to touch her face.

It’s warm here, with the fire burning merrily, his head atop her thighs. Her eyes and hands too are warm, and the exhaustion in his body pulls, wanting to sink into this coziness.

“Go to sleep, Albedo,” Lumine murmurs, putting a hand over his eyes, and he drops his own hand atop hers. “Both me and this realm will still be here when you wake.”

That does bring him comfort, though he cannot say why. He supposes he’ll think on it when he is more alert. Still—he moves her hand down just a little so that he can see her face again. Her expression is a little exasperated, and a sleepy smile curls his lips.

“Thank you,” he says.

She stares at him, then leans down—and for a moment they are mere breath apart, his eyes half-lidded, her eyes impossibly fond.

“Good night,” she whispers, her lips feather-light against his, and he sighs against her touch.

“When I wake…” he trails off, trying to hold on, but he’s already pushed himself too far.

His consciousness finally drifts.

He does not dream, but when he wakes in the morning and finds Lumine lying down next to him, their foreheads just barely touching, he finds that he does not need to.

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 2 | Touch | AO3
Summary: “Hello, Albedo,” Lumine says, her voice amused as she slips into his workshop, gently closing the door behind her, “It seems that your boredom is causing trouble of its own.” 
Notes: day 2!!! featuring a distinct lack of touch, or does it? Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

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True to her status as a hero of Mondstadt, Lumine arrives at the Knights of Favonius headquarters as a balm to aid of their ailing members. It is a severe affliction, one not so easily contracted nor treated in a man such as Albedo, and the news he is affected is kept only among the Acting Grandmaster’s and Albedo’s close circle.

“Hello, Albedo,” Lumine says, her voice amused as she slips into his workshop, gently closing the door behind her, “It seems that your boredom is causing trouble of its own.”

He is sitting by the window, elbow resting on a stack of finished books that has risen tall enough for him to do so, propping his head up with his cheek against the backs of his fingers. In his free hand is an ancient-looking scroll, quite a bit of it already unraveled and pooling onto the floor. Despite the assumption that surely it must be occupying his time, a sense of displeasure radiates off of the Chief Alchemist anyway, though his expression remains impassive. His workshop is in a state of disarray—even more so than usual—with various experiments bubbling away in isolated spaces, scribbled notes and charts both strewn about and pinned up, and half-used ingredients still scattered along surfaces.

His demeanor brightens, however, when he sees her, the oppressive pall within the room dissipating like smoke as he lifts his head.

“Hello, Lumine,” he greets back, “Is that what you would call this?”

“If not boredom, then a slump,” she amends thoughtfully, leaning her back against the door. “You’ve said so before that specimens are finite, and the enlightenment of investigative process is fleeting in nature. I expect this is a rather severe dead end, isn’t it?”

His gaze turns more piercing as she repeats his words back to him, and she tilts her head a little, giving him a pointed look. She had been concerned back then, on Dragonspine, as it was evident his list of worthy specimens and points of interest was already being exhausted. That seed from another world was a rare thing—wholly new and exciting, a problem difficult enough for him to have to enlist the help of someone else. He’d been satisfied at the seed’s transient blooming, but also perhaps a bit disappointed that the experiment had come to an end.

“…Even so, there are plenty of more mundane studies to be done,” he says lightly, turning back to his scroll, “I will confess I did not think I could be subject to ennui.”

Lumine chuckles a little at that.

“To be honest, I didn’t think so either. But if you keep doing things that you already deem dull when you’re bored, it just makes it worse, doesn’t it?”  

Albedo sighs, finally putting down the scroll entirely. She’s right. It is unusual indeed for him to get to this point; between his work as both Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team and taking care of Klee, normally his days are very full, even without new studies to pursue. But there’s a brief dry spell in the work for the Knights, which does happen every so often and thus signals a well-deserved break. He does spend more time with Klee, but there are also days where she goes out adventuring with her friends, and it would not do for him to be overbearing either. It is the same with Sucrose and Timaeus; they need time to continue their studies and garner results, and to hover too much would be more detrimental than beneficial.

At first he had turned his hand to busywork—stocking the Knights on potions and other supplies, reading lesser known manuscripts and theses, also walking around and sketching more. But too soon did the Knights’ stores become overstocked, that his focus for reading all these texts flagged, that his artistic inspiration and motivation dwindled.

Albedo with nothing to do was something of a menace. Not because of his attitude or any such thing—though he didbecome more intimidating to talk to, as the air of dissatisfaction hung about him—but because he was so capable that there was simply nothing he could be given at the moment that would be considered up to par.

Except, Kaeya had brought up, when he, Jean, and Lisa had met, the Traveler, whom Albedo had a continuing interest in. Jean had brightened at this, while Lisa had raised a slender brow at the mischievous twinkle in Kaeya’s eye but said nothing.

“I shall send the Traveler to Albedo when she arrives,” Jean had said with a relieved smile, “I’m sure she’ll be happy to assist; if I recall, they are good friends as well.”

Kaeya had chuckled, and all but purred his response.

“Indeed they are. I’m certain her company will be very…stimulating.”

And so Lumine was sent, though not without her own agenda.

“You’re correct,” Albedo admits, then gives her a wry smile. “I suppose I am in need of assistance.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here.”

“So you are. Tell me then, how shall I occupy myself?”

“With me,” Lumine says, continuing without a change in expression while Albedo blinks hard, “I’m offering myself as a study.”  

There is a silence. Albedo regards her carefully, but she does not flinch under his gaze.

“I subjected you to my research back on Dragonspine, and you went out of your way in being cooperative with a total stranger. You needn’t go so far again just to humor me,” he says politely, and Lumine smiles.

“It’s only partially a favor to you, and besides, we are far from strangers now. You told me back then…I function much like a human from this world, but the fact still remains that I am not from this world. So, what about the percentage that I am not like a human from Teyvat? It is difficult to see a situation for what it is when you are in the center of it. So I’d like your help, to find answers to my own questions. Symbiotic, isn’t it?”

Albedo’s face is impassive, but he remembers the sediment that formed at the bottom of the vial which she drank from, the sediment that should not have been there. He had made a point to tell her how ordinary the results were at the time, but she was starting to probe at the loopholes in his explanation herself. He is not entirely sure what she should know, but…there are countless questions that could be posed in regards to the Traveler from another world, countless avenues of research.

“I’m in no position to refuse,” he says, inclining his head. “But I am glad that this will be a mutually beneficial endeavor.”

“How sweet,” she says, her eyes crinkling, and he blinks. “But so it is. And with that, I shall give myself over to you.”

But he doesn’t yet move from his seat, and the two stare at each other from across the room. Her lips are still curved in an amused expression, and the fact that they are wholly alone in his space strikes him more clearly now. Paimon isn’t even here, he realizes, and he belatedly thinks that she would make a wonderful study as well if she allowed it. But oddly, he does not particularly feel like asking where the fairy is.

This shouldn’t hit him the way it does. They’d been alone for stretches on Dragonspine too, and many times after that when gathering materials or having lunch or just making simple conversation. But at present there is the particular manner in which she speaks, the words that she chooses, and the fact that she is still leaning against the door.

There is another brief silence before he speaks again, very slowly, his eyes not leaving hers.

“I suppose I should warn you that I intend to be thorough, as is my nature.”

Her amusement deepens.

“I would expect no less,” she says easily. “I would be disappointed otherwise.”

“I would not want you to be uncomfortable at any point in the process.”

“I would tell you, if I took issue.”

“The experiment may take quite some time, as well.”

“Don’t worry, my schedule is cleared for you. Barring anything drastic, of course.”

“And I’m afraid that my workshop is lacking in amenities.”

She glances around the room, inclining her head towards a small, squashed couch that is shoved against the wall, its seats occupied by various books and paraphernalia.

“That will do just fine, once it is cleared off,” she says.

There is a pause. He does not say these things to deter her, merely to confirm her will.

It is his turn to be amused, that she answered all of them so readily, and he tilts his head, measuring. He has to marvel at her, as well as the situation they are in.

She senses his mirth, and tilts her head back.

“May I?” she asks, gesturing.

“It is probably for the best.”

She opens the door a little, reaching out and flipping over the sign hanging outside to say Experiment in Progress. She closes the door with her back, the same way she did when she first came in, watching him as she reaches one hand towards the doorknob.

The lock clicks.

Albedo stands, removing his gloves as he crosses over to her and cups her cheek.

“Well then,” he says, and she finally pushes away from the door. “Shall we begin?”

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(Kaeya comes by sometime later and knocks, the sign indicating that Albedo is free. He steps in once permission is received, and smiles when he sees Lumine reading a book on the unearthed couch, Albedo on the opposite side of the room observing one of his bubbling concoctions.

“Hey, you two!” Kaeya says cheerfully, holding up a bag. “Brought you some snacks. How’d it go?”

It is a very nonspecific question.

“Lumine has been very helpful,” Albedo says without pause, attention still on his experiment, “I think I’ll be making a breakthrough on this soon.”

“How nice,” Kaeya says, turning to Lumine. “And you? I hope our frustrated Chief Alchemist didn’t work you too hard.”

“Albedo is always a gentleman,” Lumine says smoothly, her eyes revealing nothing, but her direct stare also lets Kaeya know she knows exactly what he’s doing and is having none of it. “I’ve learned a lot about advanced alchemy.”

“How nice,” Kaeya repeats, his lips quirking up. “Say, how about we all go out for a drink? You two have been cooped up all day, so why not a different kind of diversion?”

“No thank you,” Lumine and Albedo say together, their tones unfailingly polite.

“I am at a delicate stage in this experiment now,” Albedo explains, gesturing in front of him. “It will require careful monitoring.”

“And I’d like to master the process this book details before I have to leave Mondstadt again. But perhaps another day, before I head out?” Lumine demurs.

“Sure, sure,” Kaeya says with an airy wave of his hand. “I’ll grab Rosaria instead, then. We’ll be at Angel’s Share, if you change your mind.”

Lumine and Albedo make noises of acknowledgement.

Kaeya gives a lazy salute before walking out, leaving the door askew as though by carelessness.

He does not turn around, but he smirks when he hears the very quiet but telltale sound of the door closing behind him.)

Genshin Impact | @albelumiweek 2021 Day 1 | First Date | AO3
Summary: They make the damp trek in companionable silence, walking close together, their hands brushing every now and then, though neither turn to acknowledge it so directly.
Note:back on my bullshit of writing fics the day of for fandom weeks and screaming <3

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It is still drizzling when Albedo leads Lumine out to a field she has not seen before, past a copse of trees and behind a scattering of large rocks. They make the damp trek in companionable silence, walking close together, their hands brushing every now and then, though neither turn to acknowledge it so directly.

She smiles slightly when she sees what the field contains: an usually large ring of the unofficially-named “boom blossoms”, the reddish petals vibrant in their peak season. She should have expected no less that he would bring her to a location like this when she’d said take me to a favorite place of yours.

But—she has no complaints. It’s very like Albedo, and since she had put the decision of how to spend their free time in his hands to begin with, has no qualms about the result.

She watches as he tugs his gloves off with his teeth and stuffs them in his pocket, crouching down near one of the flowers. He glances up at Lumine, and she tilts her head a little before she walks over and adopts the same position across from him.

“I’m surprised a place like this exists,” she murmurs as she eyes the plant, and Albedo nods.

“Most boom blossoms are scattered in unexpected locations,” he says, “And so a gathering like this quite rare. We are lucky it is not so far from Mondstadt, and that the natural protections in this area cause them remain so undisturbed. It is an ideal cultivation spot.”

“Worthy of being considered a favorite place,” Lumine says gravely, and Albedo smiles a little.

He directs her attention back to the flower between them, drawing a ring around the wet dirt, the ground not yet mud, but close. In his soft voice, he explains the process of harvesting these boom blossoms—how during rainfall is the best time to proceed, how to skirt around the edges to determine if it is safe enough to approach, how to mark the proper distance before digging so as not to risk triggering detonation and thus ruining the whole endeavor. He teaches her how to begin gently digging into the damp soil, probing along the way for obstacles like rocks and how they can be properly removed before continuing. He tells her how to then move onto the second stage, scooping out larger portions of dirt (still with your own hands, a trowel being too rough and imprecise), how to wriggle your fingers deeper within the earth to search out the roots, and, upon reaching them, how to patiently untangle them so that the flower can be easily removed. Then finally…how to excruciatingly slowly lift it out of the ground, gently snapping its last tethers safe and sound.

Lumine watches, listens, and learns with keen interest and focus, her lips curling up in triumph when Albedo successfully harvests the flower. It sits prettily in his hands, full of life and potential, its deceiving delicate appearance belying its destructive power.

It is still liable to explode, even now. One wrong move and its detonation at this distance could easily be fatal, or cause lasting damage if one is lucky.

Lumine is aware of the danger; she has seen these blossoms in action before, has narrowly escaped their considerable range of damage a handful of times. But she had not moved once despite the consistent imminent danger of explosion, at ease the whole time as she watched Albedo’s meticulous work.

He lifts the flower up just a little, as though he is allowing her a closer look. When she meets his eyes, they are clear and direct, understanding and waiting. His hands are perhaps a little a little hesitant—but every good alchemist needs to leave a bit of room for doubt, and she’ll confess it pleases her to see it peeking out of his usual confidence backed up by his considerable knowledge.  

The rain patters gently around them, unceasing. Lumine gazes back, noting the droplets caught in his lashes, the way the tendrils of hair peeking out from his hood curls at the moisture. There is only a little distance between them; that space has shortened so much since their first meeting, the both of them drifting closer and closer until they can only bump against each other.

She is far from immune to the summer blue of his eyes, the gentle timbre of his voice, just as he is not immune to her golden-hour touch, the curvature of her smile. But they are both aware of who they are, that this budding thing between them has to be more than simply flowers slanting towards the light, that to let it bloom will be at once a gift and endangerment.

Watery mud drips off of his fingers as he continues to cradle the flower, the blossom swollen and uprooted.

She offers her own hands to take it from him, returning his gaze, unafraid.

Genshin Impact | Albedo/Lumine | AO3
Summary:  “Sir Albedo,” she continues, and the quality of her voice changes to something more velvet, more compelling, “I’d like you to draw me like one of your Fontaine girls.”
(Albedo receives a surprising commission. There’s a little more than meets the eye.) 
Notes: significantly less sexy than it sounds aha. my friend said the line on another fic of mine and it held me hostage until i wrote it!!!! i’m baseball pitching this 18k monstrosity of a hot mess out of my sight after this took 800 years!!!

There are not many things that can surprise Albedo so wholly, but nearly every aspect of the meeting with the Lord Viatoris does.

First, the letter—hand delivered by Jean herself. It is not that Albedo is unknown as a Knight of Favonius, but even as Chief Alchemist and head of the Investigation Team, he is not a figure that often appears in public. His work tends to be very internal and he is left to his own devices most of the time, so to receive a request from the outside is…highly unusual.

And that it comes from the Lord Viatoris, who was considered a hero for his contributions in the most recent war a few years back, is not something that can be ignored.

Additionally—the Knights owe him a debt, for his service in defending the city, and to arrange a private meeting with their Chief Alchemist is hardly an equal trade. Albedo had looked to Jean for some indication of what this request could entail, but the Acting Grand Master had merely shrugged her shoulders and offered to take back his reply.

The letter was politely written and had addressed him simply—Sir Albedo of the Favonian Knights—and had not used any of his loftier titles, which previous letters in the past had when many a noble had tried (and failed) to curry his favor. But, Albedo thinks, while he neatly pens back his acceptance, that it had arrived in the hands of Jean…there was still influence and favor being pulled, no matter how friendly the request.  

Second: the child that arrives at the Angel’s Share tavern where the meeting has been arranged at, a few moments before the lord himself. Albedo watches from the second floor when the door bursts open; she is a fairy-looking creature, with snow-white hair and dark eyes, and bounds right up to the bar and asks for three glasses of apple juice upfront, then rattles off an enormous list of dishes. Lord Ragnvindr—though he prefers Master Diluc when attending to the bar—seems to be familiar enough with her that he sighs and puts through her order without otherwise batting an eye, and fills up the empty glasses of juice as she drains them one-by-one.

Where’s your keeper? Diluc asks, his voice just barely audible from Albedo’s position.

Right behind me! The girl says, though with a pout at the word ‘keeper’. We have more of those dumb vials for you, too.

It is unusual enough that there is a child barging into such a place alone, but when said keeper arrives soon after her, Albedo has to wonder just who the girl is in relation to him. Surely not a sibling, with no resemblance at all between them, and likely not a noble child he is watching, with her manners and style of speech. Yet the girl is too richly dressed in her pink-and-white dress, matching boots, and dark navy cloak to be a mere servant. Why, then, cart around and cohort with a common child, of all people?

Third, Lord Viatoris himself is…a surprising man. Albedo had not made any particular assumptions about the young lord prior to this meeting, but due to the rumors, he had nonetheless developed some vague preconceived notions nonetheless. When Viatoris walks in, Albedo finds himself a little startled by his youth, and his manner of dress.

The young man is probably around the same age as Albedo himself, but the rumors had skewed his age to much older and Albedo had never sought to confirm them. The man’s suit is also not particularly striking—an average suit, for a not-at-all average noble, no matter how new to nobility he may be. His hair is also kept long, which is not strange in of itself, but it is braided neatly with a rather old-looking accessory tying the end, and a similarly battered-looking feather earring dangling from his left ear. It is those…antique (if one is being polite) to cheap-looking (if one is not) accessories that are so intriguingly out of place, so at odds with the status he bears. He wears them proudly, but it is clear that neither are worth anything, merely simple trinkets weathered by time.

What is particularly surprising, however, is the young man’s personality. Once the aforementioned vials are given to Diluc (who lets out a bark of laughter at the rather hefty pouch) and his guest’s arrival is pointed out, Lord Viatoris looks up to meet Albedo’s eyes and smiles a brilliant smile, as if Albedo were an old friend he had not seen in quite some time. It was the kind of smile that set one immediately at ease, and assured them that there was no one else he would rather be speaking with.

Oh, Albedo thinks, his elbow propped up and cheek in hand as he smiles slightly back, so, a dangerous man, in this way.

It’s the little girl that greets Albedo first when she bounds up, introducing herself as Paimon and Lord Viatoris as Aether, with the former being the latter’s assistant. There is a story here, what with the little girl addressing the lord not by his title and also extremely casually, and a certain amount of wry deference from the man to the girl, but Albedo cannot yet ask.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Aether says, holding out his hand to shake, while also gesturing with the other that Albedo should remain seated when he half-rises. “I appreciate it, truly.”

Albedo takes the man’s hand, curious at the apparently genuine feeling of gratitude the man exudes, and watches as the man and girl sit down.

“Please, Lord Viatoris. For the services that you have rendered Mondstadt and the Knights of Favonius, this can hardly repay you for what you’ve done.”

Aether smiles, and Albedo notices that he does not immediately deny it out of politeness.

A man who knows what his aid is worth.

“Ah, but you have not yet heard what it is I will ask of you,” he says, lacing his fingers together. “And please, call me Aether.”

Albedo inclines his head.

“Well, then, please let me know. Just what is it that I can do for you?”

Aether smiles again at his forthright attitude.

And so, the fourth surprise, and the most surprising of all: his request.

“A portrait,” Aether says, as a waitress sets down various plates of food on the table and his little assistant digs in without reserve. “I’d like you to paint a portrait.”

Albedo blinks, eyes wide. Of all the things he might have expected to hear, he confesses he did not think it would be this.

“Aportrait?” he repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, or perhaps several. I do not know,” Aether shrugs. “It is not I who this is for.”

Albedo leans back, blinking some more.

“My artistry is merely a hobby, Lord Viatoris,” he says carefully, and Aether gives him a sharp look at the use of the title, “It is not…a knightly service that I quite…offer.”

“Yes, well, hence the reason for this meeting and this request, SirKreideprinz,” Aether says wryly, taking a sip from his glass. “It took quite a while to find you. I sent my letter through the Knights’ channels because it was the only option available to me. But the request is for you, and not as a Knight of Favonius.”

Albedo stares. The man had looked for him? How odd.

“Color me intrigued,” Albedo says, and Aether grins at the unintentional pun. “But I would have you tell me more. Of all the things I can do…my paintings are not the first thing one would bring up.”

Aether smiles, setting down his drink though he does not remove his hand from the top.

“How much do you know about me, Sir Albedo?”

Albedo raises a brow.

“Of you personally, not much. I know your aid in the last war turned the tides, and that you helped defend Mondstadt. Sometime just after the war you came into sudden fortune, and bought a title as well as a manse somewhere in Mondstadt—but out of the city—with some of that money, propelling yourself into newly minted nobility. While some may clamor at your origins, more accept this state of things, and are honored to make your acquaintance. But as for the type of man you are, not as much makes it into hearsay.”

Aether listens with amusement, drawing rings on the table with the condensation of his glass.

“You have a lovely voice,” he says, and Albedo blinks, but Aether merely continues, “You may judge the kind of man I am for yourself, but what did not seem to make it into half of the stories is this: I have a twin sister, and she fought alongside me, until we were separated during the war. There was…an explosion of some kind, during that decisive battle everyone sings about, and by the time I awoke, she was nowhere to be found, and no one could tell me if she was even still alive. I was bedridden for months; there were speculations of her being a spy, but quite frankly such talk infuriated me so much that after my first outburst that harshly set back my recovery, it was not brought up again. Perhaps that was why she did not make it into the tales.”

He pauses here to sip at his drink.

“I would not be deterred, however, despite no information being available. You must understand, my sister is all I have left, as is the same for her. Our separation left me devastated, especially in such circumstances. It was Paimon who brought me out of…near ruin.”

Paimon looks up at the sound of her name, her cheeks stuffed with meat, blinking once, clearly having not listened to any of the conversation before this. Aether ruffles her hair, and she grumbles but returns to her food.

“An orphan, who’d been assisting the nurses in the camps,” he supplies absently, watching her wolf down the plates in front of her with ease, “She’s a precocious thing, but I owe her my life, in some ways. But I digress—I searched high and low for my sister and did everything I could to obtain news that could be even tangentially related. In the end, it paid off, and we were reunited in Fontaine.”

It is an abrupt conclusion to a tragic tale, and Albedo waits for a continuation that does not come.

“I…I am glad you were able to find her,” he ventures hesitantly, and Aether smiles faintly.

“Oh, please do not misunderstand, I was overjoyed—am overjoyed, to have found her. But the separation was not kind to her, and I….worry for her. Which brings us to my request.”

Albedo raises an eyebrow, unsure of where this is going.

“I will confess that I do not entirely understand. But my sister had been reading a book—Legend of the Sword, I believe?—and said, ‘ah, the same artist.’ Upon questioning, she had mentioned that she had seen your drawings in Fontaine, and offhandedly mused that she should like to see herself reflected by your hand. She did not ask me to find you—I daresay she may not remember she uttered such a thing—but this was the first thing my sister has shown active interest in since our reunion. As such, I want to do everything in my power to give it to her.”

Aether leans forward, elbows on the table as he laces his fingers together and puts his chin atop them.

“I’m prepared to give you nearly everything I am able to,” he says, his tone still entirely amicable despite the sheer force of power behind that statement, “But I also know that you are not the type to be swayed by money or power. I have done what research I can, but you are a hard man to find information about, Sir Albedo. Which brings us here, with my request for a portrait or several on my sister’s whim, and the question of what I may offer you in return.”

There is a silence between them for a while, as Albedo gathers his thoughts, wholly taken aback by the story and the reasoning behind this meeting. At the moment, he has one of the most influential nobles in Teyvat at his mercy—though he does not miss the way Aether had stipulated nearly.

“Well,” he says, “Given that, the money may simply just be easier to take.”

Aether blinks, then throws his head back and laughs, drawing the attention from other patrons and causing them to smile before they turn back to their own business. He holds a hand to his stomach, slapping the table once before he gathers himself.

“Oh, I do like you,” he says, mirth brightening his eyes. “Well, in any case, if you accept, I’d like you to meet my sister, Lumine. We have a holding in Starfell; you’ll be welcome to stay for however long the portrait or portraits take, of course. Transportation will be made available to you if you prefer to commute. If you need any supplies, I’ll order it. Whatever you need taken care of, I will do.”

“Thank you,” Albedo says politely. “It would be far more efficient to take up temporary residence. But pardon—I also have someone I consider a sister; she is still quite young. She’s looked after by the Knights as well, of course, but it would be remiss of me to leave her for so long if this venture will take an indefinite amount of time. The work for the Knights I may leave to my own assistant, Sucrose, but…”

“Then bring her along,” Aether says easily, without hesitation, “It is a big enough place.”

Albedo coughs.

“I will confess she can be…ah…rambunctious,” he says cautiously.

Aether grins, patting Paimon’s head again. The girl still does not look up from her meal.

“Bring her along,” Aether repeats, emphatically. “So are we agreed, then? I’ll draw up a contract if you’d like, open to payment of your choosing.”

Albedo hums, considering his options.

“No need, for now,” he says, “Perhaps after I better understand what your sister would like from me. But I shall formally accept your request, Aether.”

The man smiles.

“Thank you, Albedo,” he says, and means it.

.

Regardless of the permission he is given, Albedo does not yet bring Klee with him. It is not that he mistrusts Aether, but…he knows nothing about the household, and will not take any risks with Klee.

The Viatoris mansion is…interesting, suffice to say. It is a more rustic house, and whoever had it built clearly had a taste for the style of the old world, given the large statues that adorn the expansive garden—Ruin Guards, they used to be called. But they are oddly charming, in a way, with vines and sprouts climbing over and through their stonework, the old giving life to the new.

It is perched in the palm of one such statue that Albedo meets the Lady Viatoris, who surprises him too—not due to her presence, like her brother, but rather the lack thereof. She is something almost transient; whereas her brother draws the eye due to the charm of his attitude, she draws the eye because one is not entirely sure of what they are seeing. She is a delicate thing, at least outwardly—pale and prim in her white and blue dress, but Albedo goes not forget that she fought a war with her brother.

Aether leads him towards her, tossing an apple procured from the kitchens up and down before throwing it towards his sister with a split-second warning.

“Lumi! Guess what!” he calls, and she looks just in time to catch the apple with one hand.

She peers down at him, frowning, blinking at Albedo.

“Brought you a present,” Aether grins, and Lumine squints.

“…The apple or this man?” she asks, as she slips a small knife out of the folds of her dress and cuts the apple in half.

Albedo blinks at the appearance of the blade. Lumine holds one half of the apple over the edge of her perch and drops it, forcing Aether to lunge forward to grab it, which he does, catching it with admirable deftness.

“Both,” Aether says smugly, biting into the fruit the same time his sister does, and Lumine narrows her eyes at him. Albedo coughs, but Aether holds up his hands placatingly, still grinning. “This is Albedo,” he introduces with no follow-up, clearly drawing out the situation.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Viatoris,” Albedo greets, with a polite bow.

Lumine dips her head in return, glancing back at her brother, knowing that there’s something more to this but unable to discern exactly what.

“Likewise. Welcome to the manor,” she says slowly, tilting her head a little as she scrutinizes Albedo. “…You have a lovely voice.”

Albedo blinks at the familiar line; Aether laughs.

“Doesn’t he? I said the same. But anyway—I thought he might be of service to you, and he agreed to come after hearing me out.”

Lumine narrows her eyes at him again, scooting closer to the edge of the statue’s palm so that her legs dangle over the side. She finishes up her half of the apple as Aether does his, and they both toss the partial cores into the dirt, which Aether scuffs over.

“Did he, now?” she says, frowning, and Aether puts his hands in his pockets casually, a picture of ease.

“I thought you might like your portrait done,” he says, and she furrows her eyebrows.

“Myportrait?” she asks, still confused, “When did I ever give that indication?”

She looks to Albedo suspiciously, who coughs, giving her a sheepish look.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself more fully,” he says, and Aether lets out an awwww at the game being let up so soon, “My name is Albedo, of the Knights of Favonius. But perhaps you may better know me as the illustrator for Legend of the Sword.”

The change is immediate; Lumine solidifies, somehow, and it takes a moment for Albedo to realize that it is her eyes that are the crux of the change. She lights up, her posture straightening as she leans dangerously over the edge, and a delighted laugh escapes out of her.

“No,” she breathes, disbelievingly, as she looks to Aether, “You didn’t.”

“How rude, he’s right here, isn’t he?” he says, mocking affront.

Lumine laughs again, then slides off the statue’s palm, startling Albedo. But she lands gracefully, her skirts ballooning around her before she throws her arms around Aether’s neck, squeezing him tightly.

“Oof,” he wheezes at her strength, but she steps back and shakes him.

“Youmadman,” she grins back, “I can’t believe you. How did you find him? How did he find you?”

She turns to Albedo, taking his hands excitedly, and as she meets his eyes, Albedo can see how this girl too could take the world by storm if she could bear to stay in it.

“Started by tracing the book’s author, followed some trails, greased some palms at the Yae Publishing house—the usual,” Aether supplies, pleased by her reaction, “Just took a little time. You won’t turn him away, will you? I’ve got another business trip in a few days, I would hate for him to be uncomfortable here. I’ve rather grown to like him.”

Lumine laughs, tugging Albedo’s hand and waving at her brother as she heads back into the house.

“How dare you,” she says, eyes sparkling, “He’s more in danger of us not letting him leave, isn’t he?”

Aether sweeps a bow to Albedo as Lumine leads him away, and does not follow.

Albedo lets himself be led, bemused, into a solarium, with Lumine calling for food and drink along the way. She sinks down onto the couch, watching as he seats himself on the sofa across from her, thanking the servants as they lay down plates of little finger sandwiches, as well as a pot of tea and a bottle of whiskey with accompanying cups and glasses.

She pours herself of finger of liquor before offering the bottle to him, but he declines and opts for the tea instead. She drains her glass then pulls out a slim cigarette case, once more offering, and he once more declining. He watches as she affixes it to a beautiful enamel holder, balancing it between her teeth as she lights it up with a match.

She then blows the match out, placing it on the table, and takes a drag of her cigarette before turning her attention to him again.

“Hmmm,” she says, as she blows out the smoke, “I confess, now that I have you here, I’m not entirely sure how to proceed. I never expected my brother to go looking for you, let alone find you, so I just find it a marvel that you’re here at all.”

Albedo smiles a little and leans back, drinking from his teacup as he observes her. The cigarette and the whiskey—her movements are easy and practiced, but almost too much so, and he wonders at this sense of discrepancy, when he barely knows her.

“Well,” he says, placing his cup back on the saucer, “I myself am curious how you came to know of me completely outside of my work for the Knights of Favonius. According to your brother, it was in Fontaine first that you became aware of me.”

There is a silence as she puffs, and she seems to dim as she is caught up in her thoughts.

“Yes,” she murmurs absently, “Fontaine.”

But the separation was not kind to her, and I….worry for her, now, Aether had said, and Albedo can see why. She is a flickering lantern, with the approaching danger of flickering out.

“I was there briefly, when I was coming home from the war,” he supplies, setting his cup down on the table, “But I’m not sure how or where I made such an impression that would have stuck with you in that duration.”

Lumine blinks, focusing on him again. She doesn’t answer straight away, tapping the ashes into a crystal tray.

“How much do you know about me?” she asks, and Albedo’s lips twitch up again.

“…You really are similar sometimes, you and Aether,” he cannot help but say, and Lumine looks startled, and then deeply amused, but says nothing in response to that in particular. “Not much, I suppose. Aether said that you were separated during an explosion, and then he searched high and low for you. And…then he found you.”

She hums, leaning back as well, and turns her head to look out into the gardens.

“I shan’t bore you with the details,” she says, though he can tell it is more that she does not wish to speak of it. Aether too had avoided detailing the last part of his story. “I was prisoner for a time…and then I was released. But I was lost and penniless and so I…drifted. I was in Snezhnaya awhile. Then Natlan. And finally Fontaine. You did drawings for the common people around a certain café, do you remember? From the elderly to the youths to the children. From the administrators to the merchants to the working girls. The proprietor of the café was quite taken with some of them; had them framed and hung on the walls.”

“Oh,” Albedo says, truly surprised. “I had no idea.”

Lumine smiles, leaning forward, crossing her legs.

“Including the nude portraits,” she continues, perfectly at ease, “Fontaine had their artistic rebirth much quicker than Mondstadt did, no doubt due to you. They were beautiful, you know—all of them. Very honest.”

Albedo is quiet for a moment, thinking back. He does recall, now that she has brought it up; there had been a span of a few days where all the battle had finally winded down, and he was desperate for…something else. Businesses were opening again and celebrations were abound for the end of the war, and so he had simply chosen a café, sat, and drawn. He’d gained some attention, afterwards, when the sketches were left with the owner or given to the customers—especially from the women. He’d consented easily to the nude portraiture of the working girls, somewhat fascinated by the opportunity, whom in hindsight were also flirting with him. But he was much more intrigued by the way they held themselves, or the shape of her hands, or the curve of her nose to pay much attention to it at the time.

He had done many a portrait before he disappeared—in their eyes, at least, for he had been something of a stir before he decided to be on his way. No one had any detail of who he was.

“The war…” he begins, slowly, staring down at his hands, “Afterwards, I wanted to find normalcy in the ways that I could.”

He clenches his fist then relaxes it, flexing his fingers, and says nothing more. Silence stretches, before he remembers why he is here, and he lifts his head again.

The lady’s eyes are distant once more, her gaze turned elsewhere, her cigarette burning low.

“So, a portrait, or several,” Albedo says, reaching for his tea, and she turns to him, “Was what Aether said. Was he speaking your wishes true?”

Lumine blinks, then smiles slowly.

“Yes,” she says, and they stare at each other for a moment. “Sir Albedo,” she continues, and the quality of her voice changes to something more velvet, more compelling, “I’d like you to draw me like one of your Fontaine girls.”

A pause, his teacup halfway to his lips, and then he raises an eyebrow.

“Clothed, or unclothed?” he asks lightly, setting the cup back onto the saucer, and Lumine lets out an airy laugh.

“Whichever you think will capture me best,” she says, stubbing out her cigarette. “Or both, if you feel the need. I’m interested in what you see of me, Sir Albedo, because I’m finding it difficult to see anything at all.”

He stares, another silence enveloping them.

“I see,” he says.

She smiles faintly and pours another finger of whiskey.

“Good,” she says, and drinks.

The conversation ends thus.

He glances back once when he leaves, but Lumine is no longer there, already gone through one of the many glass doors.

.

They start with the standard—clothed—portraits, and he passes some days with Lumine in the solarium or out in the gardens, sketching her simply doing whatever she feels like. Aether joins them here and there to pass the time, but true to his word, he is gone again in a few days to Liyue for a business trip.

“Mr. Zhongli doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Aether says, on the day he is to leave, snapping his pocketwatch closed. “So I’d best be there early. Don’t let my sister get you into trouble. Look out for her, will you?”

Lumine snorts from the sofa, holding up a lazy hand in a goodbye wave.

“Give my regards to Mr. Zhongli,” she says, “And my thanks to Lady Ningguang, for the brocade and new cigarette holders.”

He promises he will, while Paimon promises to bring back local snacks.

The manor is quieter without them, and Lumine is even more prone to getting lost in her thoughts. She smokes more too, and he begins to see more reason behind Aether’s parting words.

His assignment is much more difficult than it seems; despite the days spent in her company, none of the sketches he’s done so far feel right. It is a very particular kind of portrait she is seeking, and even if he knows what she wants, it is another story to capture it properly. It is far, far more than simply drawing what he sees, even if his insight is, perhaps, a little keener than others.

He’d expected this to be a trial, however—welcomed it, even—and continues unperturbed, no matter how many pages he goes through. Lumine watches as he flips through page after page in his sketchbook and says nothing.

It takes him a little longer than he would have liked to realize at least part of the discrepancy between what he draws and what he sees.

Lumine is not…comfortable.

It’s not that she is uncomfortable around him; she likes him well enough and behaves more and more casually around him by the day. No, it’s a certain quality that she’s had since he met her, something that she’s had even around Aether. It creates a sense of distance, like a thin glass wall.

(One could break it, indeed. But the resulting shatter might cut both of their hands to ribbons.)

There’s something inhibiting her, somehow, and once again he thinks back to Aether saying the separation was not kind to her. Lumine had glossed over her history, and Albedo was in no place to push, but he thinks now, perhaps, that hearing it, or some of it, may be necessary in order to achieve what she wants from him.

But she does not want to speak of it, and he cannot nor wants to tear it out of her.

Still; she needs something else to shake her out of these doldrums, or they will remain at a permanent standstill. Now that he’s pinpointed an issue, he can start attempting solutions.

For something like this, however, he simply goes to the strongest thing in his arsenal.

He notifies Lumine of his plans, takes a short leave, and comes back with Klee bouncing excitedly up and down behind him. She spins around slowly as she walks, running a little to close the gap between her and her and Albedo when she realizes she’s gotten distracted trying to take in all the sights and unusual structures of the Viatoris mansion.

Lumine greets them with a bemused smile. Albedo notices that her dress for the day is…a little different than her standard. It is far simpler—almost rustic—with the red and white layers matching Klee’s own outfit. She has a fur stole draped over her shoulders as well, and though it is still a refined ensemble, she looks less…intimidating, somehow, more fairylike instead of ghostly. Klee sticks closer to Albedo’s back once she notices the lady waiting for them, peeking out with wide eyes as she grips her brother’s coat. But Albedo can tell that her fingers are just itching to touch the fur of Lumine’s stole.

As they near, Lumine’s eyes crinkle as she looks at Albedo and sinks down to meet Klee’s eyes, not minding her skirts touching the ground.

“Hello,” she greets with a smile, “You must be Klee. Welcome.”

Klee beams at her, instantly overcoming her brief shyness, stepping out from behind Albedo and coming a little closer.

“Hello, Lady Viatoris!” she says cheerfully, curtsying clumsily. “Thank you for having me.” She hesitates for a second, expression turning a little bashful. “May I please touch your fluffy scarf?”

Lumine laughs, removing it from her shoulders and wrapping it around Klee’s, enveloping her in its soft texture. The little girl gasps delightedly, stroking it once, then continues to do so, unable to stop.

“A present, then,” Lumine says, “For helping keep me company.”

Albedo startles a little, on both accounts, and Lumine gives him a wry smile. First, the fur must be worth a fortune, and second…he hadn’t thought she would catch on so immediately.

“Waaa…thank you!” Klee says, grinning widely, “And I’m excited to be here! I get to spend time with Albedo…and also make a new friend! So Klee is really happy!”

Her attitude is infectious, and both Albedo and Lumine smile at her.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lumine chuckles softly, “Shall we get a snack first, before I show you around?”

“Yaaay! Yes, please!”

Klee runs ahead, with the aid of a maid to point the way to the kitchens, while Albedo and Lumine linger behind.

“You did not have to do that, but thank you,” he says, referring to the fur.

“I wanted to,” she replies, watching Klee go, “She’s an adorable thing.”

“As I warned Aether, she can be rambunctious. She often gets herself into some sort of trouble.”

“Ah, but did Aether not warn you the same about me? You may have simply created more work for yourself.”

He blinks, and she throws a cheeky grin over her shoulder before she makes her way to the kitchens too.

A spot of tea and a plate of Fontaine-style cookies called macarons later, they are roaming the mansion grounds, with Klee wide-eyed at everything she sees.

Not unexpectedly, she is fondest of the gardens, enamored with the statues that Lumine so loves to sit on.

“They used to ‘splode?” Klee squeals, when she spots the replicated mechanisms on the Ruin Guard’s back with wide eyes as she jumps up and down.

Lumine glances at Albedo, somewhat unsure if she should be telling a little girl this, but he merely gives her a wry smile. She does not yet know Klee’s history.

“Well…not quite. It’s said they would release missiles from their backs. They were meant to protect ruins, but…”

She trails off. The Ruin Guards have a more complicated history, with scholars debating hotly over the common discrepancy of the age of ruins they protect and the age of the Guards themselves. But thankfully Klee doesn’t notice, as she is far more taken with the idea of these big missile-shooting automata being things that actually existed once upon a time.

“Klee wants to make something like that, too!” she exclaims, “Like…a big Dodoco! Then she could help Klee blow up even more bad guys!”

Lumine blinks, confused on two accounts, glancing at Albedo.

“Dodoco is her stuffed friend hanging off of her bag—a handmade gift, from her mother, who took me in. And…despite her age, Klee is an expert on bombs,” Albedo explains lightly, “Her…education with her mother was…unconventional, due to unconventional times.”

Lumine blinks at him, then looks to Klee.

“Ah,” she says, sadly. “So she is a Knight, too.”

“Yes,” Albedo replies somberly. “Yes, she is.”

Lumine says nothing, and simply watches Klee circle the statue for a while before walking towards her and suggesting a game of tag. Albedo watches with some alarm as Lumine shucks off her delicate shoes and ties the up the excess fabric of her dress to the side, revealing a peek of her garters.

She looks surprised at his wide eyes, smiling as she straightens.

“Surely Sir Albedo is not embarrassed by a little flesh, when he has seen far more?” she asks, bemused, and he coughs lightly.

“The situation was more established then,” he returns, dragging his eyes from her leg to her face, “One does not expect a noble lady to hike up her skirts so brazenly.”

Lumine lets out a laugh—a bark, really, partly harsh and partly genuine, and Albedo wonders if he’s said something wrong. But she doesn’t respond, and simply goes to Klee to set the rules of the game before running off, the little girl chasing after her with enthusiasm.

In a few moments he will play a few rounds with them when Klee begs his participation, but right now, he simply watches Lumine flit about the hedges and trees, looking back occasionally to make sure Klee has not lost her entirely.

She meets his eyes, startling him, somehow, with the quality of her gaze. It is measuring, and distant, and also…doubtful, even as she mouths—

Come get me.

.

In the time that Klee stays within the mansion, they spend it simply entertaining her and ensuring her well-being. They play games, running around in the gardens or hosting hide-and-seek within the house, the halls filled with Klee’s laughter, softly echoed by Lumine’s own and accompanied by Albedo’s chuckles. Other times Klee sprawls on the ground of the solarium and draws with crayons as Lumine watches over her and Albedo continues with his portraiture.

Though the mansion staff largely takes care of their meals, Albedo sometimes takes over the kitchen. Klee has her favorites from him, and it’s not the same to have someone else cook them.  

So at present, in the kitchen, Klee stands on a box to reach the counter as she uses small cookie cutters to cut vegetables into fun shapes, while Albedo prepares everything else. The roles are familiar between them, and though he occasionally looks over at Klee to make sure she is still doing well, he trusts her to do so as he focuses on other aspects.

It takes a while before he realizes Lumine is leaning against the doorframe. She does not tend to eat meals with them—snacks and teatime, yes, but not usually meals—and so it is unusual that she is here at this time. But here she is, watching quietly, her expression unguarded.

There is an unfocused quality to her gaze as she takes in the whole scene and not just a single part of it, as though she is trying to seep herself into a daydream. But her eyes are also tender, and longing, and the emotion she bares is so palpable that it nearly takes his breath away.

Lumine shifts after a moment, as though she is going to slip away without a word, but Albedo does not let her.

“Good afternoon,” he says, making her jump a little, “Will you join us for lunch?”

Klee turns and spots her, a wide grin stretching across her face as she jumps up and down on her box.

“Lady Lumi! Please, will you? Albedo’s making Woodland Dream, it’s my very favorite! Klee wants it to be your favorite, too!”

Lumine hesitates by the door, her hand tightening into a fist by her side, and she tilts forward a little as if she’ll take a step before she stops herself. She presses her lips together, as though there is an insurmountable wall that she cannot pass even within her own home.

Albedo steps over the threshold, taking her hand without a word and leading her next to Klee.

“Come on, then,” he smiles, “I’ll make another portion. We could use an extra hand.”

“Yay! Look, Klee will show you how the carrots become flowers!”

Lumine doesn’t look at him, all of her attention turned onto Klee as she demonstrates how she uses the little cutters to punch the slices of carrot into shapes. Albedo turns away and lets them be, the kitchen full of Klee’s chatter and the occasional returning murmur from Lumine.

Later, as Albedo prepares to sear the fish, Klee brings over a bowl of vegetables to him, and he smiles down at her.

“Albedo, look! Lady Lumi cut some into Dodoco shapes!”

He peers at the carved carrot that his sister is holding up, impressed. He glances back, where Lumine has taken a seat by the counter, her chin in her hands as she continues to watch the two of them.

“That’s some workmanship,” he says curiously.

“I know my way around a knife,” she replies simply, and he’s not entirely sure what to make of that.

He remembers their first meeting, where she had a hidden knife for the apple that Aether had brought her. He remembers her telling him but I was lost and penniless and so I…drifted, across three countries entirely alone.

Nevertheless, there is lunch to finish up. He steams the vegetables with butter and sears the fish with herbs, quickly making a sauce of reduced balsamic vinaigrette and honey in the meantime. Klee watches with excitement with Lumine, as she sings the dish’s praises.

It’s the plating, really, that is the most impressive; he has timed everything perfectly, and all parts of the dish leave their respective pans within seconds of each other. He arranges the vegetables efficiently, adding a flourish with the sauce, and delivers two plates to the table piping hot.

Lumine’s eyes widen a little, and the corner of Albedo’s lips turn up. She notices, and her eyes crinkle.

“A man of many talents,” she says, and he chuckles a little.

“Only some,” he says, and turns to plate his own.

The three of them eat in the kitchen, not bothering with the more complicated place settings of the formal dining room even though Lumine is here. She doesn’t seem to mind—on the contrary, she seems more relaxed, even though she’s reverted back to not speaking much.

Klee tries to sneak her pearl onions onto Lumine’s plate, but Albedo notices and gives her a pointed look. She grins and lets out a sheepish hehehe before taking back her fork and putting it into her mouth, chewing the vegetable dutifully.

Lumine looks amused, and offers one of her Dodoco-shaped carrots. Albedo raises a brow, and Lumine smiles.

“A reward,” she protests, and Klee looks between her and Albedo before offering one of her cherry tomatoes, which Lumine seemed to particularly enjoy.

“Me too!” Klee says cheerfully, “Klee’s good at sharing!”

“She is,” Albedo smiles, his eyes just a touch mischievous, “Which is why she’ll share her fish too, won’t she?”

Klee wilts, her eyes growing big. She hesitates, looking back and forth.

“Noo…that’s Klee’s favorite part…”

Albedo smothers a laugh.

“Honesty is also a valuable trait,” he says somberly, and gives her a portion of his fish, instead. “It is important not to let others take what you don’t want to give.”

She perks up instantly, giving him some of her broccoli, digging into the rest of her meal happily.

“This is the best!” she says, swinging her legs, beaming at Lumine, but her eyes widen a little when she catches sight of the lady’s face. “Miss Lumi, what’s wrong?”

Lumine blinks, then smiles a little tremulously.

“I….think I just miss my brother,” she says, faltering a little.

It doesn’t sound like a lie, but there also seems to be more than that. But Klee doesn’t notice, nodding sagely.

“Klee understands! I’m also sad when I don’t get to see Albedo for a long time,” she says, “So…maybe it’s not the same, but…Klee will share Albedo with you!”

Albedo raises an amused brow, while Lumine looks startled.

“Oh!” she says, laughing a little. “Thank you, Klee.”

“If you’re in trouble, Albedo will help you!” the little girl continues, eager to share the merits of her brother, “He gets Klee out of all kinds of trouble! And he’ll never ever lie to you, so you can always trust his promises! Albedo is the best!”

Lumine blinks, her eyes growing thoughtful.

“I see,” she says, her voice a little absent again. “I’ll remember that.”

Klee beams again, turning back to her food with satisfaction.

Albedo glances at the lady before turning to his own plate, and pretends not to notice when her gaze eventually slides over to him and sears with her scrutiny.

.

It is Lumine who suggests a walk after lunch, guiding them to the famous old watchtower in the area. They do not climb the structure, but admire the view from the Stormbearer Point.

“No storms today!” Klee reports, shading her eyes with both hands and sweeping the horizon. “All clear!”

Lumine gazes into the distance for a little while longer.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Indeed.” She then turns to Klee with a slight smile. “Have you ever had valberries before? They only grow in these parts. They’re very sweet and refreshing.”

“Ooooh, Klee wants some!”

Despite the fact that they just ate not long ago, Lumine leads them to the berry bushes, plucking them from their vines and eating them directly. They are indeed delicious, and they make makeshift baskets with their clothes and bring as many back as they can.

Over the next few days, they continue to pick berries and spend time making them into jam, and use the jam in cookies and other desserts.

Klee stays for a little over a fortnight; though she’s enjoyed her time terribly, it is a lonely area without other children or otherwise much to do, and she misses the bustle of the city. On the day she returns, the carriage is loaded with various gifts—a huge basket of food (including fresh berries and their handmade jam), the fur stole, and other trinkets and games that she’d found an interest in during her stay. Albedo will escort her back to the city so he can check in on his affairs as well, and Lumine sees them off in the afternoon.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, and she gives him an amused look.

“You’re taking my brother too seriously,” she says, as she kneels down to speak to Klee. “Come back and play sometime, okay?”

“I will!” Klee says, hugging Lumine tightly, and the lady looks surprised before she hugs back.

When she rises, she tilts her head at Albedo.

“Safe travels, the both of you,” she says, and he nods back in acknowledgement.

Klee waves all the way until Lumine is out and sight, and Albedo watches until he cannot see her anymore.

In the distance, Lumine is still until the carriage disappears entirely.

.

It takes about four days for him to return; though the Knights of Favonius are not incapable, Albedo is simply too good at his job. Things are less efficient without him, and though it is not imperative that things move so quickly, it is not how Albedo runs the department when he is present. He is not displeased with how things have been during his absence, but now that he’s here, work is brought up to speed, tasks reassigned, assignments evaluated and new ones given.

No one asks much about how his own assignment is going or what the details are; the commonfolk know that he is on Lord Viatoris’ business, and do not pry. But the others—Jean, Kaeya, and Diluc especially—have a more knowing manner when he speaks to them, and on the day he is to return, load him up with various items. From Jean, a tin of tea, the nondescript container showing it is not bought from a shop. From Kaeya, a sealed envelope and a secretive smile. From Diluc, a bottle of what seems like particularly fine wine, but turns out to be grape juice. None of them say anything in particular when they hand over the items, and because they don’t, he’s aware that these are not for Aether, whom they must know is not currently in Mondstadt.  

So Albedo too takes them without a word.

There is some trouble on the road—a broken wheel, and then a group of bandits—so he arrives well into the night. The manse is nearly completely dark, and he frowns as he walks in; the few servants still on duty greet him with somewhat veiled relief.  

“Is everything alright?” he asks, concerned.

“Yes,” one of the maids says simply, “But it is better, now that you’ve returned. Lady Lumine called for whiskey and tea about an hour ago, on the balcony. If you are not too worn out…may we suggest you join her?”

Albedo blinks, but does not hesitate and nods.

“We’ll unload the carriage,” a butler smiles, “Perhaps you can take a fresh pot with you.”

And so Albedo is accompanied by another maid holding a tray as they go up the stairs, who leaves him by the door with the beverages.

It’s a chilly night, and the other door to the balcony has been left wide open so that the room too has turned cold, though the fireplace fights a losing battle for dominance of the temperature. Lumine has her chin propped up on her hand, but turns when she hears noise.

Her face brightens when she sees him; she smiles, leaning back in her seat.

“Albedo,” she says, his name warm and thick on her tongue. She is, perhaps, just the slightest bit tipsy. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” he says, setting the tray down. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

She watches with interest as he prepares them both drinks—a mix of honey, whiskey, and lemon first, topped with hot tea, then stirred.  

“Are you drinking to humor me?” she asks, and he smiles, “You needn’t to.”

“I find myself wanting to,” he says, handing her one of the mugs as he sips, and she smiles back.

They are quiet for a while, enjoying the warmth of the liquid, before Albedo remembers that there are items he is meant to convey.

“I’ve some gifts for you, from Mondstadt,” he says, “From various well-wishers.”

“Oh?”

Her tone is deceptively mild.

“Yes. I was surprised; I was under the impression you were something of a secret.”

“Are you disappointed?” she asks teasingly, “But you are not wrong. Those who feel the need to know, do.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on her, measuring. She blinks back at him, the corners of her lips curling up a little. There is more to it; the gifts meant for her all have a personal touch. Especially from Diluc and Kaeya—neither give easily, no matter what it is.

“You have far more of a hand in your brother’s dealings than you seem, don’t you?”

She blinks at him in mild surprise, then chuckles.

“Are you asking because you believed me nothing more than a housepet?”

It startles a laugh out of him, how wrong that impression is, even though the time he has spent with her does often involve her lounging.

“No, I am merely seeking confirmation. Though I will admit…had I known nothing at all about you, I may have thought so.”

Her eyes are amused as she swirls the drink around in her mug, but as she continues to stare into her cup, the expression fades.

“Aether is…good at socializing and negotiating. He makes a good businessman; he would not have been able to buy our titles if he were not. But now that his ventures are bigger…he lets details slip through the cracks; he’s no good at bookkeeping. And he cannot be everywhere at once, although he tries. And even now, he’s still…”

She trails off, the pause long before she finishes her sentence.

“…Too kind.”  

Toosoft, Albedo supplants, understanding what she does not say. It is not a failing. But it must be balanced, and that’s what she does—balances him, as he does her.

And yet…

“You’ve been uncomfortable,” Albedo says. “Haven’t you?”

It is too blunt, perhaps, but…with the chill of the clear night and the warmth provided by the alcohol, he thinks he can feel something…giving. A slight shift in the wind, a subtle turn of the currents.

Lumine’s eyes flick to his. There is a silence, and she reaches for the whiskey to pour a little more in her cup. She offers him the bottle—this time, he takes it, and she watches as he pours himself a rather generous amount with some surprise.

She frowns at herself, drinks, then leans back in her seat, tilting her head back to look up at the stars.

“Maybe,” she half-sighs, half-groans. “But he is around me, too.”

She props her head up with her arm just enough to see him, smiling a little when she sees that he looks mildly surprised.

“He doesn’t seem like it, does he? He’s good at smiling. But we’re twins. I can tell, and so can he.” She averts her gaze, staring out into the gardens. “I don’t fault him, though. As he doesn’t fault me. Too much happened in the years after we were separated. We were too dependent on each other…and then we learned to subsist…exist without. And now things are…too different. Too strange. So we just…are.”

Albedo stares, then drinks. She stares at his throat when she swallows, unfurling her other arm as though she were going to reach out for him, but she rests it on the table instead.

“Do you want what you had before?”

She blinks at him.

“You are asking a lot of questions tonight, Albedo.”

A warning? He’s not sure, but he can feel the glass wall’s spiderweb fracturing at his fingertips, and his desire to press forward itches. He’ll blame the alcohol for making him bold, even as he is ready to accept the consequences of what the results might be.

“Yes. You asked something of me. I cannot see if you do not let me.”

She blinks again. Her lip curls, at once sardonic and challenging.

Lumine leans forward, putting both arms on the table and leaning forward, as if she were going to tell him a secret—or spit in his face.

“We traveled together for some time, after he found me and I was stable enough to do so. Like we used to. It was all wrong. And it was everything I feared.”

Albedo stares at her, hard. There is a world unspoken in those words, and as he presses them into his brain to figure out what, past the alcohol and past what he already knows, a new thought filters into his mind. His eyes widen slightly; Lumine notices, and her lips thin as if anticipating a blow of some kind. But before she can pull back, his own hand clamps down on her wrist as he too leans forward.

“You didn’t look for him,” he realizes, and she breathes in sharply. “It never occurred to me until now. He spoke about searching for you, all that time. But it wasn’t the same for you. You didn’t look for him.”

There is a serrated silence; Albedo remembers when Aether recounted his story at the Angel’s Share. His deceptively easy folded hands, the restrained pain in his eyes, the curbed tightness of his voice—excellent bravado had covered it all, but that too was telling. The setback he had experienced when he was still recovering from the explosion, so angry was he at slander against his missing sister. The way he had needed saving from a small orphan in the nursing camps when no one could or would tell him of Lumine’s whereabouts.

How he had leaned forward at the tavern and offered just about anything as payment for Albedo to grant his sister’s wishes and whims.  

Albedo understands better now, that the stipulation of nearly everything in his power was because he would give up nothing that provided his sister comfort, no matter how small. What loyalty! But also, the fear of losing her once more—and the latter would be something Aether would truly give everything not to happen again.

All that, and the sister he searched for so desperately…

Did not feel the same.

Lumine’s eyes grow wet and despairing the more she watches understanding flit across his face, and he can feel her hand under his clench into a fist, but she doesn’t pull away from him.

“I did, in the beginning,” she whispers, trembling, “But not for long. You must have heard the songs and tales of Aether by now. Mondstadt’s Hero is just one title among many. His name was everywhere. At first it kept me going. And then—when I couldn’t find him, when I had nowhere to turn, when I was lost and destitute…it was only his name that I heard. It was not that I wanted to share the spotlight—far from it. But the more I heard about him, without me, the further away he seemed to get. Like I was no longer able to reach him. Like I was no longer enough.”

The words spill out of her, quick but heavy, every syllable a blow, her breath coming short as though she is panicking. She doesn’t look at him, staring down at their hands, her nails surely digging crescents into her palm.

“I stopped looking. I couldn’t—it was so much just trying to survive. We were named for the light and sky, do you know? But I wasn’t…bright enough to share the same…the same sky. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see anything at all.”

Her body is whipcord tense, so rigid that her muscles must scream for release. But she doesn’t notice, trapped in the despair of her own faults, biting her lip so hard blood pools to the surface.  

“Breathe,” Albedo says sharply, “Lumine, breathe.”

She tries to, for several minutes, shuddering as she inhales. She then puts a hand to her forehead and shades her eyes. Her voice cracks with nearly every other word when she speaks again, every sound a trial, but the tears have not yet fallen.

“He found me. He never stopped looking. But I—I had nothing to offer him when he did. Not memories, not even a shell. All he found was a great yawning abyss that he once called sister. He would have given everything for me, and I could give him nothing. What kind of monster does that make me?”

Albedo stands and gently cups her jaw, tilting her head up. She is haunted hollow, looking at him the way a woman stranded at sea for months might after finally seeing a beacon of rescue in the far distance.

But he is not at a distance.

“Breathe,” he says again, more firmly, and her gaze bores into his as she obeys. “One. Two. Three. Yes, that’s right. Again. And again.”

He sees the wildness begin to ebb as she listens to his voice, counting inhales and exhales at length, and he lets go of her face when she starts to settle. He removes his other hand from her wrist as well and she shivers at the sudden lack of warmth and contact.

Lumine flips her hand over, palm-up, studying the bloody red indents she’s made on her own skin. She frowns, pressing a napkin to the cuts. When she licks her lips she tastes the blood from earlier and dabs that away too, finally seeming to ground herself with its iron tang.

There is a weighted silence.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” she murmurs—though it’s not strictly true—when the pause has drawn out too long, “It’s late. I should retire for the night.”

Albedo simply inclines his head, hesitantly acquiescing to her wishes. There is more to be said—things he could say. But her confession is too raw, the air between them too delicate, and Lumine herself still so fragile at the moment the wind could scatter the particles of her.

Lumine rises from her seat first, languid and perhaps a little dazed; Albedo follows, closing the doors to the balcony behind him. He leans against the bedpost as Lumine sinks down onto the mattress, burying her face in her hands. After a moment, he takes a chance and walks back over to her, kneeling down and putting a hand on her knee.

She looks at him.

He says nothing. She gazes back, seeming as though she wants to say something, her lips parted. But she struggles with the words and decides against it; Albedo encourages her through his own gaze, but she gives a small shake of her head in the end.

Albedo makes to get up, but she puts her hand on top of his briefly before he fully rises, and he lowers himself back down.

“Thank you,” she says instead in a tiny, feeble voice, and he smiles a little.

“I haven’t anything to show for my presence here yet,” he says, a little jokingly, and she smiles back hesitantly.

“You’ve done much, already,” she says softly.

They are still for a moment, staring at each other. Albedo flips his own hand over so that their palms meet, and after a moment, he laces their fingers together. Lumine sighs, squeezing his hand weakly.

“Should I…stay until you fall asleep?” Albedo asks slowly.

It is an innocent offer. He says it simply, uncharged, and yet it comes out very differently than the times he’s asked this to Klee.

Lumine is silent, then reaches out with her other hand to trace the curve of his cheek, feather-light, gaze unreadable. Everything seems so still, and so quiet. The awareness that it is only the two of them in this room is keener, though that has never been so significant before.  

“…You should go,” she murmurs, so quietly. “I’ve have too much to drink, indeed.”

There’s—a warning in her words this time, but Albedo is not entirely sure he can discern the specifics of what it is for.

Nevertheless, he will follow her wishes. He stands, and Lumine does not watch as he makes his way to the door.

“Tomorrow,” she says, when his hand is on the knob, “Tomorrow…I will undress for you.”

Albedo turns back, but she is still not looking at him.

“Physically, or metaphorically?” he asks lightheartedly, echoing one of their first conversations.

She half-turns so that he can see the upward curve of her lips, but what he can see of her eyes is old, old and tired.

“Both,” she sighs, a little tremulously, “…Both.”

“…Alright.” He replies gently, as he turns the doorknob. “…Good night. I will see you tomorrow.”

On a whim, he turns back again as he steps of the room, and catches her eye as he does.

For a moment, he stands still, struck by the look in her eyes, almost longing.

You should go.

But he obeys her wishes, and returns to his own room for the night.

Still—he wonders, as he lays down on the cold bed.

And wonders and wonders and wonders.

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The morning starts normally.

Albedo takes breakfast alone, and works on refining some sketches in the solarium. Lumine sleeps in, and meets him there by mid-morning. There is a certain amount of anticipation in the air, but things are so far as they always have been, and so Albedo carries on. He begins another sketch of her.

The only difference worth mentioning, perhaps, is that she is dressed a little more formally today. Lumine looks every inch the noblewoman in a blue gown with gold accents; she is wearing gloves, too, and floral hairpins with matching earrings. It is not so unusual, though she is often dressed more casually than this, and he wonders what this is meant to signify. She looks—doll-like, pristine, and like the day he first met her: a little intimidating, for she does not seem entirely present.

He draws. She reads a book.

They do not speak. It is only until the sun is just short of slipping that she closes her novel and straightens out before standing.

“Take a walk with me?” she asks, and he stands and offers his arm.  

She dismisses the staff for the rest of the day, and the two of them walk through the gardens in silence. She leads, and on the returning path back to the mansion, she sighs and begins to speak.

“Do you know,” she begins, “I’ve been saved by children four times?”

He glances at her, and she him, but they do not stop walking, and she faces forward again as she continues to talk.

“Klee said that you get her out of all sorts of trouble, and that you never lie. Can I trust you?”

“You can,” he says easily, “But you have to decide that for yourself.”

She smiles, and says nothing else on the subject.

“How much do you know about me, Albedo?” she asks conversationally, and he chuckles a little at the familiar question.

“Not much, even now,” he says, “I know that you and your brother Aether were caught in an explosion during the war, and you were taken prisoner afterwards. When you recovered, you wandered across Snezhnaya, and Natlan, and finally Fontaine. I know that is where your brother found you, and where you first heard of me. But…”

He tilts his head up for a moment, thinking.

“Hmmm…but, I know you prefer cold drinks instead of hot. You like desserts with fruit and prefer them more tart instead of saccharine. You like napping in the sun; you like the open air.”

Lumine’s pace slows, and he slows with her. She turns to him, blinks, but he still faces forward as he continues with his findings uninterrupted.

“I think…you drink because you are used to it and it provides a distraction, and not quite because you like it. The same with the smoking—it is a habit borne from necessity. Fontaine is big on both, is it not? And I think you were telling the truth that day in the kitchens when you said you missed your brother, but that you also miss who you used to be with him, before you fought a war. I think you are afraid that your brother thinks less of you now even though he does not seem to—which, in essence, perhaps makes it worse if he does not at least think differently of you, for you are not the same person you once were, and that would mean that the person you consider your other half does not…see you, either. But I think because you lost sight of yourself, you’ve become most afraid of seeing yourself because you no longer know what to expect, and you are used to knowing what to expect—or at the least, having your brother know if you do not. And yet, if he does manage to see…you also fear that the great yawning abyss you say you became will s

Genshin Impact | Albedo & Rhinedottir, Albedo/Lumine | AO3
Summary: A life is created within a flask and learns to be human. A shooting star from another world falls to the earth.
There are words for such things, and for when such things come together.
And when they fall apart.
(Sometimes, even when a Prince and a Princess meet against the odds, they do not get idyllic ever afters.)
Notes:approx 9k words. another albelumi fic that i basically speedwrote to ride the strength of my albedo feelings before xiao drops bc i don’t trust my own fickleness!! aka…will i abandon my sad good boy for one (1) sad rudeass boy….:’(

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“Look at her, touching his cheek
to make a truce, her fingers
cool with spring rain;
in thin grass, bursts of purple crocus—

even here, even at the beginning of love,
her hand leaving his face makes
an image of departure

and they think
they are free to overlook
this sadness.”

—From “The Garden”, by Louise Glück

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Albedo’s first memory is, of course, of his Master. His vision is filled with her when he is newly born, and though the sight from within the flask is a little distorted, he knows the hands that created him. Much later, when he gains the knowledge to formulate opinions, he will describe her as stern and severe, but at present, scant moments after his birth, his Master smiles at him with something that might be affection.  

Otherwise, Albedo does not remember much of his early, early life. Still so new to existence as a whole, it was a long process to just learn—to learn to learn. He starts from the very basics on how to function like a human being, especially once he outgrows his flask. By all appearances, he is a human, and the differences are minute, or simply indiscernible by humans proper.

To breathe, to eat, to talk, to move. The constant asking of questions comes much later, when he becomes an actual thinking being—and that is when he earns his name too: Albedo, the stage of alchemy in which change begins. Rhinedottir is exceedingly patient with him, never once growing angry at the crawling slowness of this entire process.

She knew, and still knows, what it means to take responsibility for one’s actions.

.

Once Albedo becomes—properly situated, he takes to learning anything and everything with a voracious appetite. This appears to please his Master as she teaches him everything she knows—and her knowledge never seems to run out. She seems to have an answer for everything, though she does not always give them to him so readily, preferring that he come to his own conclusions with less guidance now that he can think for himself. Eventually, she starts asking him questions, knowing he does not have an answer. He learns to formulate his own theories and conduct his own experiments in order to find them, and such projects take anywhere from a few scant minutes to several years. Both of them are rarely working on only one thing; there is always some study or another in progress, and Albedo does not think it remiss to think that Rhinedottir is pleased to have another being keep up with her. His Master has had other students before, he learns, but none whom she could impart her knowledge to so fully, for various reasons.

It is a joy, for a very long time, to live his life like this. There is simply so much, to do and see and hear and figure out. But as the months pass, then years, then decades…life begins to grow monotonous.

It is not that he begrudges it overmuch—Rhinedottir still has things to teach, orders to give, and expectations to be met, which only increase in difficulty. Still, he comes to recognize a certain dullness in his pattern, and he cannot fully ignore this knowledge now that he is aware of it.

Nevertheless, his routine has been as such for so long that he does not even consider the possibility of it changing.

But it does, one day, when the sky lights up in a brilliant blaze of solar gold and electric white, and a shooting star plummets to the earth.

.

It is a phenomenon that even his Master has never seen in all her years, so it is inevitable that they go searching. The landing site of the mysterious star is not so far away according to Rhinedottir’s calculations, which furthers the imperative nature of their search—for how could they pass up such a golden opportunity for an absolutely unprecedented study? Albedo feels excitement beat warm in his chest, primarily owed to his Master’s enthusiasm. It is a new expression on her, this anticipation, which he finds fascinating; it is exceedingly rare that he is able to observe new facets of his Master. Even after all this time, there is still much he does not know about her, and she thus remains one of the greatest mysteries in his life.

Neither of them make any fantastical preemptive guesses as to what they might find from such an occurrence, but they do consider unusual possibilities—though logically, the basis will likely be rock Yet despite their openness of mind, they are not prepared to find what they do: an unconscious young girl, dressed in foreign white clothes, curled up in the center of a scorched crater.

Rhinedottir, usually always so sure of herself, checks her coordinates again to make sure there is no mistake.

“Well,” she says finally, moving closer to the figure, “This is unexpected, indeed.”

She tries to wake the girl to no avail. Albedo half-unpacks their supplies to take out his sleeping bag, unzipping it and laying it over the strange girl in attempts to keep her warm. After she is neatly tucked in, the two of them set up camp a little ways away, so as not to startle her overmuch with strangers looming over her when she does wake.

The girl opens her eyes as they are making dinner for the night, the slight rustling of the sleeping bag alerting Albedo and Rhinedottir of her wakefulness. They watch from the distance as she sits up, slow and lethargic as if every bone in her body hurts. She turns her head to the side a little then looks up to the sky, not yet spotting them, coming to the realization that she is in an unfamiliar place.

A small sound escapes her, like an aborted sob, hopeless and despairing.

It is at that moment that the wood in their fireplace pops, and her head swivels around at the loud noise. She throws herself back when she spots them, a sword suddenly in her hand, her stance combative; she says—something, her voice sharp and demanding, but they do not understand whatever language it is that she speaks.

Rhinedottir raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of a weapon from thin air, but puts out her hands in a placating manner to show that she means no harm. The girl glances at Albedo, who inclines his head towards her in greeting and continues to stir the stew that is beginning to bubble.

Her sword disintegrates from her grip as she does so, much to the alchemists’ surprise. To her credit, she seems to work out the situation fairly quickly, and slowly makes her way to the fire. It is not so much trust but logic that wins out—given their already laid out camp, if they had wanted to do her harm, they would have done so earlier when she was unconscious. She does not miss the sleeping bag that had been draped over her either, and brings it with her, saying something that might be a thanks when Albedo reaches out to take it.

Gingerly, she sits down, drawing her knees up and crossing her arms atop them as she stares into the flames, then looks between Rhinedottir and Albedo. She says—or asks—something, but neither Master nor student can understand her, and they reply so in Teyvat Common. She furrows her brows and tries again, as if testing whether or not they are pretending, a lengthy monologue spilling forth. But after a while, they notice that the sounds and syllables change every so often, and realize that she must be trying other languages as well.

But no matter how many she knows, it becomes apparent that she does not know Common.  

Her distress grows as they fail to recognize sentence after sentence, and she eventually falls quiet, looking close to tears before she buries her face in her arms. Rhinedottir is nevertheless even more fascinated, for even though they cannot communicate at present, it is evident that the girl is something extraordinary.

Albedo too, is curious, if perhaps in a different way. There is something—familiar, about her situation, something that he thinks he might be able to understand. He finds himself reaching out a hand, lightly touching her arm to draw her attention. She raises her head, blinking as she focuses on him, her eyes both wary and despairing.

He points to himself, then enunciates his name very slowly.

“Al-be-do,” he says, and then, pointing to his Master, “Rhine-do-ttir.”

The girl’s lips purse, and he repeats himself several times, until finally she puts a hand to her chest and stares him straight in the eye. He does not think he mistakes the brief flash of gratitude before she speaks.

“Lu-mine,” she says, and Albedo smiles.

.

Lumine has nowhere else to go, of course, and so it is a given that she travel with them. She seems alarmed at first when they pack up their camp, but is relieved when Albedo holds out his hand, and tilts his head in question.

She doesn’t take it, but she nods and follows after them.  

She is merely a silent shadow for some time, trailing along and watching them perform their experiments, both combined and separate. It is interesting that she raises her brows at the alchemy, yet does not seem entirely surprised at the art.

Even so, she is not dead weight. She is an able fighter, a fair huntress, and surprisingly, a decent cook. For the two alchemists whose meals tend to be the same time after time and primarily focus on nutritional value only, her cooking skill may perhaps be the most valuable skill that she can offer.

Lumine’s most interesting skill, however, is solidly her fighting prowess. It’s the sword-summoning she had done that first night that draws their attention the most, initially, the weapon appearing out of thin air and disappearing the same way. She seems confused by their fascination with it, but patiently performs it a few times for their observation.

The three of them soon form a comfortable routine. Lumine does not speak again for quite some time, and while the alchemists are intensely curious, they give her the space that she needs. There is no point to rushing her.

When she does finally begin to warm, however, it is Albedo that she begins drifting closer to. It is likely because he looks to be of the same or similar age, and compared to the forbidding severity of Rhinedottir’s countenance, he is much more approachable.  

Rhinedottir watches, the first time that Lumine engages Albedo first, bringing him an apple and making a questioning noise. He blinks at her, looking at the fruit in her hand.

“Apple?” he asks, and she tilts her head at him.

“Apple?” she repeats, very slowly, adjusting her mouth around the sounds.

“Apple,” Albedo repeats, also very slowly as he touches the fruit, understanding now what she is trying to do.

“Apple,” Lumine says back, with the proper accent, her lips quirking up in a smile.

She says something more, then, and of course he does not understand, but she gestures to various things around her, then points back to herself. She taps two fingers to her lips, then holds them out to him, and then gestures between them both.

“Ah,” Albedo says, smiling back, “Yes, I will teach you.”

Rhinedottir watches this all, and wonders about the results that will come out of this union.  

.

Lumine is a quick learner, picking up the basics of the language in a few scant months. In return, she begins teaching them a little of her own language—the one of her homeland, they learn much later on—but the accents and conjugations are much harder to get down, so utterly different from Common as it is.

Albedo takes to it far better, as he practices it more, fascinated by this new thing to learn given to him outside of his Master’s expectations. Lumine is inordinately pleased once he starts to string sentences together properly, and Albedo finds that he enjoys her pleasure.

In any case, they finally start to learn Lumine’s story from her in bits and pieces. She and her twin brother, Aether, spent their time traveling different worlds, but at some point, they had been blocked by some unknown god, and cruelly separated. The last she saw, the god had sealed her brother into a small red prison, and then done the same to Lumine.

When she woke up, she was here and stranded, without much of her previous powers.

Now, with enough language finally at her disposal, she can finally ask the question she has wanted to since the beginning, though she knows the answer by now.

“Have you seen him?” she asks, and Rhinedottir shakes her head.

“No, child, my apologies,” she says, and despite expecting this, Lumine’s face falls a little before she composes herself.

“I see,” she says softly, looking down.

She hesitates before she speaks again, meeting Rhinedottir’s eyes with determination, and without fear.

“I will leave you one day,” she says, and Rhinedottir smiles faintly.

“We all leave one another someday, child,” she replies, and Albedo glances at her, then at Lumine as well. “But you will stay for now, will you not?”

Lumine looks up at the sky for a moment before answering.

“Yes. I will.”

.

The years continue to pass less dully. Lumine picks up more and more of the common language, Albedo continues to pick up more and more of hers. She also learns a bit of alchemy during this time, enough to play assistant to the two alchemists proper if necessary.

And—also during this time, she consents to have tests and experiments run on her, in attempts to understand her better and perhaps find a way to regain her past abilities. Though she shows a little apprehension at first, the tests turn out to not be even remotely fearsome; she drinks potions and has her movements observed, and though the potions are not tasty and the physical regiments are sometimes rather strenuous, the tests are almost boring.

It is Albedo who does most of the testing and observing and compiling of research on Lumine, later bringing his notes to Rhinedottir for review. His Master is content to let the two youths spend more time together as she focuses on her own work—and anyway, unbeknownst to them, she is conducting her own new study. Albedo has grown much since his creation, and she tracks each minute difference—which have grown more steadily now—with precision. Lumine still has many unfathomable mysteries about her, but even so, Rhinedottir can see the changes about her as Albedo teaches her the names of various flowers and words like “grace”, “strength”, and “gentleness”.

In return, Lumine teaches him the words for “happiness”, “kindness”, and “warmth”.

These children know not what it is they are doing, Rhinedottir thinks, as she watches Lumine trace letters onto Albedo’s bare palm, but oh, she does, old crone as she may be.

And so, she watches, and does nothing to encourage or deny them.

.

Albedo cannot yet recognize what the slow molten, seeping feeling is that is growing inside of him, only that it reminds him of rubedo.

Lumine has an inkling of where the path of her feelings could go when she looks into Albedo’s sky blue eyes, but pushes it aside, for she cannot afford to take it.

.

He is not meant to share the secret of his birth—or rather, creation—carelessly, but Lumine is not just anybody, and nor does she seem particularly surprised by this revelation when he eventually entrusts her with this knowledge.

“Soil is the origin of alchemy, and the basis of all life,” he explains, using Lumine’s native tongue, for he likes the way her eyes shine when he does so, “And chalk, spotless soil, is the substance which primal life is molded.”

She hums, musing over this new information.

“And stars?” she asks, “What about stars?”

Albedo purses his lips, thinking.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “And it may be too difficult to be able to study, when one is so land-bound.”

She chuckles a little, tilting her head back to look at the sky.

“My first memory is of the sky,” she says, “And the light. So perhaps Aether and I were born of stardust. You said, didn’t you, that the day I appeared, I had looked like a shooting star?”

“It was a brilliant sight,” Albedo says, with a nod, “Neither Master nor I have seen anything like it, in all our years. Hmm…chalk and stardust…I wonder what could be created by the two combined?”

Lumine glances at him, eyebrow raised, but he is not looking at her nor thinking about the implications of what he’s said, hand to his chin in deep thought.

“Well, we are here,” she says after a pause, her tone light, “A child of chalk and a…potential child of stardust. What will you call us?”

He looks at her then, responding without hesitancy.

“Remarkable,” he declares, smiling.

Lumine’s eyes widen at his response, and then she throws her head back and laughs, bright and delighted.

“Yes,” she says, “Yes, remarkable indeed.”

.

There is a market happening in the nearest town, and so Rhinedottir sends Albedo and Lumine on an errand to pick up things they usually cannot get so easily. Normally, the three of them camp out when they can, and head into civilization only if strictly necessary—they cannot conduct the bulk of their experiments in such quarters as an inn. Of course, they must make exceptions when the weather turns for the worse, and there are no caves or such shelter to bunker in. But neither alchemist is overly fond of human interaction, and they avoid it to diminish various complications.

In the past, picking up supplies was a task Albedo had never thought much of previously. But now, with Lumine by his side, he finds that the errand has a new color. They peruse the market, Lumine looking around with more curiosity than he, and Albedo watches her take in the sights and wares. Since the time she has joined them, they have not had many chances to go into towns, and none so far had a market as lively as this—apparently due to some celebration going on.

Just as he is musing what kind of festival might be happening this time of year, he realizes that Lumine is no longer by his side, and has to backtrack a little to find her stopped in front of a taciturn stonecutter’s stall. Her fingers have half-lifted a pendant from his display closer to her as she scrutinizes the stone.

The man’s necklaces are no expert things, their focus mostly on the stones themselves with a chain looped through them, though some are a little more interestingly caged or bound with metal. The rather intimidating stonecutter himself does not push them to buy, and merely watches them with keen eyes as they browse.

“It is a good stone,” Albedo supplies as he steps closer, and Lumine looks to him. The stonecutter smiles faintly as well, pleased that someone is able to recognize its true worth. “I did not know you were interested in such things.”

“It’s the color of your eyes,” Lumine says simply, and Albedo blinks in surprise. “I’ll take this, sir.”

The man’s smile deepens as the transaction is completed, his visage not so frightening like this.

“If I may ask…” Lumine says, just a touch hesitantly, “If I…gave you a stone, could you make another pendant of it, like these?”

The man raises an eyebrow, but gestures for her to show him. She reaches into her pocket, then drops the stone into his palm. The stonecutter’s eyes shoot up when she moves her hand away, and Albedo also blinks at the multicolored facets of a kind of yellow diamond he has never seen before.

“…Best take it to a master,” the man says, but Lumine shakes her head.

“I haven’t the time,” she says, and Albedo blinks at her, unsure why she says such a thing, “Nor do I want this to turn into something too…flashy.”

The stonecutter hums, then shrugs, reaching for some tools, and they wait as he fiddles with the gem. In a few moments, he has it bound up in a simple cage of silver wire, and a chain looped through a little opening. Lumine smiles with satisfaction when he hands it back.

“How much?” she asks, and the man shrugs.

“No need,” he says, “Got to see something incredible. Not every day you get to see a stone like that. I’d like to ask dearly where you got it, but I shan’t.”

Lumine smiles, and pays him for the chain anyway.

They complete the rest of their task with quickly; Lumine says nothing more about her purchases, and Albedo does not ask.  

It is Rhinedottir who notices something remiss with her when they return to their camp in the outskirts.

“Oh,” she says, “It is time, then?”

Lumine’s lips thin, her expression mulish as she tilts her head down a little.

“A few more days,” she sighs, not looking at her. “But no more.”

Albedo attends to his chores, and pretends not to know what they are speaking of.

.

It is a parting gift, the necklace she had made.

She drops it into his palm the day she leaves, looking apologetic. Albedo knew this day would come, of course, but it does not lessen the sting.

He stares at the pendant while Lumine says her goodbyes to his Master.

“You’ve come a long way,” Rhinedottir says, her gaze piercing, “Do you finally feel welcome in this world?”

Lumine glances at Albedo before looking back to the older woman.

“Perhaps,” she says, “But the red god did not call us Outlanders for nothing.”

Rhinedottir shrugs.

“Then make your place,” she says simply, “And you will be an outlander no longer.”

Lumine purses her lips in thought. But she is in no place to consider this with the depth that it needs at present.

“Thank you, Madam,” she says instead, “For your care and teachings all this time.”

Rhinedottir simply cackles and waves her hand before making her way back to the camp, so that the two youths may speak alone. There is no parting gift for her; she has no need for such sentimentality, and she has already been given the greatest gift by being able to observe and test and research this fallen star of a girl.

Lumine turns to Albedo, and the two are silent for a while. Then, she reaches out to take the necklace from his hand, and gently loops the chain over his head.

“Will you stay upset with me long?” she asks quietly.

Albedo looks down at the brilliant stone of the pendant against his chest, turning it this way and that in his fingers. It sparkles in different colors as it catches the light.

“Of course not. It is not—your fault.”

She smiles a little at that.

“Ah, but I am undeniably the cause.”

“We have known since the beginning that you would leave one day, to search out your brother. I must simply confess that I…enjoyed our time together so greatly that I no longer thought of that fact so consciously.”

He finally looks at her, and her breath hitches for a second. They stare at each other for a moment before she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the other necklace she had purchased at the stall, holding it out to him.

“Will you do the same for me, please?” she requests, and he complies.

He steps closer to put the chain over her head, and does not step away when he is done.

“I enjoyed our time, too,” Lumine whispers, her eyes gentle, “More than I thought possible, after I fell to this land. Thank you, Albedo, for…for bringing me back to life.”

He blinks, unnamable emotion welling up inside him, and he does not know what to do.

Lumine reaches out to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing gently across his skin, and he sighs as he leans into her touch.

“Do not forget me,” she murmurs.

“I will not,” he promises.

She smiles, and steps back, his skin cold when her hand leaves him.  

“Goodbye,” she says.

“Goodbye,” he echoes.

He grips the pendant as he watches her go, and cannot help but wonder—

If finding those necklaces at the market spelled her departure…if she had not seen them, if he had not received this gift, would she have stayed a little longer?

.

He mopes afterwards, though he does not know it for what it is. Albedo is ashamed to say that he is unable to properly notice his own behavior until his Master snaps him out of it.

Rhinedottir does not do so in a scolding manner—rather, she brings it up lightly, with amusement.

“Tell me,” she says, her attention more on the bottle in her hand, as she shakes it and considers the changing color, “Do you know what it is you feel?”

He realizes he does not. There is an emptiness inside of him, not exactly great and yawning, but palpable and difficult to ignore. It is heavy even as it is intangible, and though it feels so much like a stone within his chest, he cannot take it and toss it away.

He is not miserable. With Lumine’s departure, his life has simply returned to its old routine with him and his Master. It is not even as dull as he remembers, and he is still glad to be by his Master’s side, learning and working alongside her. There is still value that he finds in his experiments, and meeting his Master’s high (and rising) expectations.

Except—every so often he cannot help but wonder…where is Lumine now, and how is she doing? Has she managed to find clues to her brother’s whereabouts, or has she found him entirely?

At night, Rhinedottir watches her protégé’s face furrowed in deep thought as he reflects upon himself. It is a difficult thing to do, but Albedo has always performed admirably, and this is yet another part of his growth. Distantly, Rhinedottir thinks that for the everyday person in a similar situation, what Albedo is currently experiencing is meant to be part of a rose-colored period in their life.

But she, he, and the one in his thoughts…well, none of them are everyday people.

Rhinedottir tucks a hand under her chin as she muses, ready when Albedo turns to her.

“Master,” he says, perfectly calm, “Is this loneliness?”

Only a faint upward twitch of her lips confirms the correctness of his answer.

“Albedo,” Rhinedottir says, “You have grown up well.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going. Her praise never comes lightly, and she is not a warm person to give such compliments undue. This acknowledgement makes him…apprehensive.

“And yet, this is only the beginning,” she adds, and Albedo furrows his brows.

Rhinedottir turns away to prevent further discussion. Even with Lumine gone, there is still his Master. Though he has determined what loneliness is, he has not yet realized what it means to be alone.

He has grown well, and continues to do so—but this is not the first of hard lessons, nor will it be the last.

.

Change comes again some years later, in the form of a letter, delivered to them by the hands of a hilichurl.

It is Albedo who receives it. He’d been trying to observe the unique patterns on its mask that he has not seen before, but when it spots him, it calls out to him. His name is mangled, yet still recognizable, but despite the address the hilichurl is wary and holds out the letter as if it thinks it will be the last thing it does.

But it completes its mission; Albedo takes the envelope gingerly, nonplussed at this sudden, unexpected interaction.

The hilichurl scampers away the moment Albedo’s fingers close on the paper and secures it.  

“Master,” he says, when she ambles up beside him, having noticed this interaction from afar, “Have you ever seen the like?”

“No,” she says, her voice absent as she stares at the envelope in his hand. “Open the letter, Albedo.”

He obeys. Inside in a single folded sheet, with a single line in careful print.

I’ve found my place.

“I see,” Rinedottir murmurs.

She looks thoughtful but says nothing else, merely looking to the sky before walking back to their camp.

Albedo stares at the letter, at the familiar handwriting, at the emptiness of the remaining space. He should be glad for Lumine, and gladder still that she has managed to notify them that she is alive and well.

But the fact that it arrives to them after all this time, not from her directly but in the hands of a hilichurl of all things…he knows how to read the letter for what it is.

A severance.

Her place is elsewhere, somewhere out of reach, some place that he cannot understand.

(And yet…to turn the unknown into the known…that is what he does.)

Albedo stays out for a long, long time, until the sun sets, and his fingers turn cold.

.

Rhinedottir watches as her boy stands outside in the wilderness and navigates through heartbreak.

When Albedo comes back to the fire to warm his hands, she smiles a little at the resolution set on his face. He has nothing to ask her.

Yes, she thinks.

Soon, she will have nothing left to teach him.

.

Albedo wakes one morning with his Master nowhere to be found.

Her tools are gone. Her notes are gone. Nearly every trace of the fact he had been traveling with another person is gone.

All she leaves behind is a note, a recommendation later, and the Opus Magnum, the ancient alchemical manuscript which she had so carefully protected during their travels.

He reads her note with trembling hands.

Albedo, when you have put your own affairs in order, go to Mondstadt. Find my old friend, Alice, and give her the recommendation letter. Complete your final assignment.

He surveys the camp once more when he is done, still in disbelief. His Master, Rhinedottir, suddenly gone from his life with nary a warning. He had feared such a thing before, that if he had failed to complete the assignment he’d been given, she would leave him—she had threatened to do so before often enough, as a motivator. But he had and has done everything she has asked, met every expectation and even beyond.

He had not thought that the opposite too could be true, that she would eventually run out of things to teach him, and leave him thus. What she deems her final assignment had not been delivered in any unusual manner the other day. The truth of this world…he had thought like any other task—that she already had the answer, and would watch over him like always as he struggled to reach the same enlightenment.

The sun is already high in the air but the morning is nonetheless dark. He cannot move. The routines he performed with his Master are gone, because his teacher is gone. Nothing is the same. He does not know how to adjust.

Albedo reads her letter over and over again, until he finally reads the recommendation letter she has left too. It is an impersonal detailing of his abilities and accomplishments—so like his Master, and not at all unexpected, and yet he feels emptier having read it.

“Master,” he whispers, “Is this what true loneliness feels like?”

It is more debilitating than he could have guessed.

He watches the sun rise and fall, rise and fall. He does not eat or sleep.

He does a study in hunger, in dehydration. In inertness. He presses his cheek to the ground and watches ants and beetles traverse the dirt. He is not looking to die—though he would not be able to die in this manner to begin with. But nor can he bring himself to move.

And then, one day, a sunsettia plops onto his head.

And then another, and another. He peels his eyes open and looks up to see a hilichurl retreating to a safe distance. It watches as he slowly rises to his knees before running away fully.

If he recalls correctly…it is the same one that had delivered him Lumine’s letter, the one with the unique mask patterns.

Lumine.    

Do not forget me, she had said, and he promised that he would not. But he confesses he did, for this snatch of time where he could not think of anything at all.

Complete your final assignment, Rhinedottir had said, and as her loyal student, his compliance was inherent. But that is not the path is he currently on, nor attempting to be on.

…There are still things he has to do, wants to do.

Albedo eats the sunsettias slowly, and then goes searching for more when his stomach settles. The hilichurl does not appear again, but the reminder was enough. His studies in stagnation are done; they do not achieve what he actually wants to achieve.

Logically, he knows, but pulling himself back together is still slow going. He takes one step at a time, and begins going through the motions of the everyday life he had shared with his Master. It becomes familiar again in due time, and he realizes, perhaps, that Rhinedottir had prepared him for this for quite a long time. He has everything he needs, including the routines, even if he is alone.

The rest depends on him.

For the first time, he cries. He does not realize he is doing so until the tears drip off his chin and onto the back of his hand. It is a curious feeling; a part of him marvels at this new, uncontrolled response, the force of his feelings so overwhelming that he cannot contain them.  

“I am still learning, Master,” he whispers, and wipes the tears away.

When you have put your own affairs in order, Rhinedottir’s letter had begun, and so he shall begin to do so.

The first order of business: to once more find the shooting star that had fallen to the earth.

.

It takes a few months, though even that is sooner than he expected. He spends that time simply roaming…and attempting to communicate with hilichurls. Not all the encounters go well—he cannot always get close, and sometimes even if he can, it results in battle. He does not know how to begin learning their language, but he can observe their culture. He seeks out the shamans and brings food to showcase goodwill, shows Lumine’s necklace to them if he is able to establish communication. Albedo cannot tell if they understand, but he tries anyway, and continues to try.

It pays off.

After many other failed attempts, this group of hilichurls exclaims after looking at the necklace a bit, and gestures wildly for him to follow. They lead him to a field of sweet flowers, and at first, Albedo takes this to be another misunderstanding, sighing.  

But then he sees the Ruin Guard ambling towards it, and the figure perched in its hand.

The Guard stops in front of him, and Lumine’s face is expressionless as her eyes meet his. The Guard lowers its hand for her to step down, and he sees that there are also apples and sunsettias in its palm.

These she gives to the hilichurls, who exclaim in delight, carrying off the fruits immediately. The Guard itself ambles away slowly once its hand is empty.

“You’ve been kind to them,” she murmurs, watching the hilichurls go. “Thank you.”

“Lumine,” he breathes, his voice hushed.

“Albedo,” she says back, turning to face him.

For a moment, it feels like they are meeting for the first time again, though now they already know each other’s names. Like him, she looks the same as she did all those years ago, and yet much has changed since then.

“You’ve been looking for me,” she says, her voice flat, “Why?”

“I felt I was in danger of losing you,” he replies, not at all offput by the coldness of her attitude, “So I came to keep my promise.”

Her expression changes at that, a flicker of pain flashing across her eyes.

“I am not the girl you once knew,” she tells him.

“And yet, my life’s purpose is to turn the unknown into the known.”

Her brows furrow at his response, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards.

“This is not for you to know.”

“All knowledge is worth having. If you will not share it, I will attempt to discover it myself, in due time.”

Her lips thin with displeasure, her eyes bright with anger. He tilts his head a little as he scrutinizes her.

“You let me find you,” he says gently, “Why?”

Lumine tenses and does not answer him.

“You are afraid,” he continues, and she begins stepping back, her eyes wary, “…And you are lonely.”

At that, she hisses and turns away as if she will leave him entirely, but he reaches out to grab her wrist.

She stills at his touch, and does not pull away.

“How funny that I should feel the same,” Albedo says, with something of a self-depreciating laugh.

Her head whips back to look at him, and the two stare at each other before she finally sighs, the tension draining out of her body. She looks…small, like this. Terribly so.  

“Madam Rhinedottir left you,” she says, her voice defeated.

“Yes.”

“You almost died.”

“That is not true, though I was indeed indisposed for some time.”

She raises her eyebrow at that, and he gives her a sheepish look. There is not much more explanation he can give about that, and Lumine shakes her head.

“I did not send that letter so that you would come find me.” she says, her voice distant.

“I know. But why did you send the letter?”

She hesitates before responding.

“…I…thought you would rather know, than not.”

“Ah—a kindness then.”

He smiles a little here, tilting his head just a little teasingly, and her face softens against her will before she turns her face away.

“If…you wish to view it as such.”

A few heartbeats pass before they speak again.

“Are you still searching for your brother?”

“…Yes. But so far, it has been fruitless. I suspect I will only see him when the dust settles. In the meantime…I’ve discovered something else I cannot walk away from.”

“And will you tell me what it is?” he coaxes warmly, but her response is icy.

“Do not ask of me such a thing Albedo, when you are not here to stay.”

He pauses, deliberating whether or not he can answer otherwise to hear her answer, but he will not lie to her. Her lips quirk up at his quietude, but her expression grows melancholy after a moment.

“There is something you cannot walk away from as well,” she says, and he nods.

“My Master’s final assignment is to find the truth of this world,” he says quietly, “I…wonder if I will be able to see her again, when I do.”

Lumine blinks, faintly surprised, though she says nothing on the subject.  

The two fall silent then, looking at each other. Albedo is still holding onto Lumine’s wrist, though neither of them comment on the matter.

After a while, Lumine sighs, and reaches out a hand to touch his cheek.

“Albedo,” she says, switching to the language of her homeland, “I confess it is good to see you. But it was not…a good choice.”

He blinks at her and leans into her touch, holding her gaze.

“I wanted to see you,” he says simply, and she shivers to hear the language from him in return.

“Do not do this again. The next time you find me, I will kill you.”

He smiles a little at that.

“Then when it is time for me to die, I will come to you.”

She frowns, and drops her hand as if burned.

“Ah, so you intend to make me do it,” she says, shaking her head. “You are cruel, Prince of Chalk.”

“It is not about making you do it. It is about having a reason to do so.”

She looks at him sharply, her eyes and posture demanding. But he smiles, and says nothing more. The bargain for this information is not something she is willing to make at present.  

“Don’t come,” she hisses.

“I will, if I must. You have already made the declaration.”

Her jaw is clenched at his refusal, her body trembling slightly, and it is another moment before she speaks again.

“…Then if you must come, at the time, if I am nothing like you remember, if I am no longer who I say…you must be prepared to do the same. You made me a promise. Do not forget me. Me. As Lumine. Do not let a stranger kill you.”

He tugs off one glove, and holds out his hand.

Slowly, she takes it, intertwining their fingers. Hers are warm as his are cool.

“So once more, we make an exchange,” he says lightly.

She blinks at him, then peers at his neck. She reaches under his collar and tugs out the pendant she had gifted him so long ago by the chain, the yellow diamond still glittering as brilliantly as ever. He reaches under her scarf to tug out hers, the blue crystal still beautifully clear and luminous.

Lumine sighs, and leans her forehead against his.

“You make this difficult,” she mutters.

He chuckles.

“Master used to say that if it was easy, you were not learning.”

Her lips quirk up into a wry smile. After a while, she squeezes his hand, and does not let it go when she steps back.

“Go,” she sighs, “This is hard enough already. Do not make it harder.”

He looks at her, then lifts her hand to press her knuckles to his lips.

“Until death unites us, then,” he says, and lets her go.

She does not say goodbye this time, and he does not turn back. She watches him, until he is out of sight, gripping the pendant hanging in the center of her chest so hard it hurts.

.

Mondstadt welcomes him with open arms, and his skill is so far beyond what everyone else is used to that even without the recommendation letter, he could have easily made a place for himself. Even so, he is new to the city, so to make him Chief Alchemist is too hasty still.

He does not mind; he does not need a position at all, so long as he is still allowed use the resources that they have.

Instead, he accompanies his Master’s friend, Alice, and her little daughter Klee, on various adventures to better acclimate himself to the country. It is very different than traveling with his Master; Alice is rambunctious and destructive, attentions everywhere all at once with whatever new thing catches her interest. Klee watches her mother with big eyes and a wide smile, and listens with rapt focus whenever Alice sits her down to teach her how to make bombs. (Surely that is not conventional, but…Albedo has not exactly lived a conventional life, and does not have “normal” parenting to compare Alice’s to.)

It is chaotic, and yet he does not wholly mind. It is a new experience to consider.

And yet…in three years, Alice too is gone. She leaves Klee with Albedo and the Knights of Favonius, and then she and her partner are gone in a flash, into the depths of the world.

Klee holds Albedo’s hand tightly when her parents leave with nary a backwards glance, and he squeezes it gently back, understanding her feelings. They are similar—an absent mother and an absent Master, the ones left behind and lonely, their abilities just a little too much for Mondstadt’s walls.

He and Klee sleep side-by-side that night, and for a little while to come. But the little girl handles it better than he, ultimately; she is perky and bright within a few days, pouring her attentions into crafting new bombs and terrorizing the fish in Starfell Lake. (He mitigates this where he can, but…Klee’s shenanigans become commonplace and well known amongst the Knights as they all pitch in to watch her.)

During their travels, Alice had said they were now a family, and that Albedo could call her Mother, if he so wished. But he did not, and the word stuck oddly when he tested it.

But as for Klee…it is not so strange to call her little sister. She had already endeared herself to him early on, with an unprecedented affection so whole and pure and innocent. Despite his lack of previous interaction with children, he does well in caring for her, and he cannot help but marvel a little at the responsibility of watching over another life like so, perhaps a little like the way his Master had when he was brought out of his flask.

They are, perhaps unexpectedly, a good pair. With Klee, Albedo learns about a different kind of contentment, and comfort. There are nights, after Klee has had a nightmare and Albedo simply cannot sleep, that they sit together and watch the stars with a hot drink, or go out to catch fireflies. Together, they forget to be lonely.

“Albedo,” Klee says sleepily on one such stargazing and hot-drink night, nestled up beside him, “I’m really glad that you came to Mondstadt.”

Albedo strokes his sister’s hair, and smiles tenderly.

“Thank you, Klee,” he murmurs, picking her up with great care to put her to bed, “I’m very glad I did too.”

.

Regardless of previous misgivings, Albedo gains two titles, aside from the one his Master left him, very quickly: Chief Alchemist, and Captain of the Investigation Team. He is truly a Knight of Favonius by the time this happens, with even his bladework adjusted to better suit their style.

Besides Klee—and Sucrose and Timaeus, whom he has taken under his tutelage in the past months—he still primarily keeps to himself. He is satisfied with the relationships he has, and is not interested in cultivating too many new or deeper ones. The work that is required for such things…it is troublesome.

The official assignments required from him by the Knights are, quite frankly, easy, just barely requiring five percent of his energy. But this suits him just fine, as it allows him ample time for his own pursuits.

His life in Mondstadt is colorful, and though here too he forms his routines, there is never a dull moment—especially with Klee, and two students to teach.

Albedo wonders if something like this was the reason his Master sent him to Mondstadt. He is…happy here, in this gentle and free city.

He wonders if, as they had traveled the world just the two of them for so long, his Master had been, too.

.

He is not in the city proper when Stormterror attacks, but he hears about the Traveler the moment he returns. The knights on duty inform him that the young man and his floating companion had been taken to see Jean in her office, and then the group of them had headed out again afterwards posthaste. Albedo walks towards Headquarters with renewed curiosity, but expects he’ll hear more about everything in due time, and simply goes to his workshop as usual.

There is a knock on his door a little while later, and he calls for whoever is on the other side of the door to come in. He is observing the color change of a potion in his hands, and turns only when it has settled into the proper pale shade.

When he finally looks up from the bottle, he nearly drops it in surprise.

A young man in foreign clothes stands next to Jean, about the same height as Albedo, if perhaps a touch taller. He is slim, his long blond hair tied in a braid, his golden eyes open and curious. A small fairy-like child floats next to him, but Albedo’s focus is on the Traveler, and blinks as he takes in his visage.

They are not identical, but nevertheless, Albedo knows him for who he is.  

“Good afternoon, Albedo,” Jean greets, “You must have already heard the stories, but this is the Traveler, Aether, who I’ve deemed an Honorary Knight of Favonius for his assistance. His companion is Paimon.” She gestures back and forth as she introduces everyone. “This is Albedo, Chief Alchemist and Captain of our Investigation Team.”

“Hiya!” Paimon says, waving cheerfuly while Aether dips his head politely in greeting.

“Hello,” Albedo returns, finally settling down the bottle into a rack. “Thank you, for your service to Mondstadt. What brings you here to see me?”

“He is looking for his sister,” Jean explains, and Albedo keeps his face impassive. “I was hoping that he might sit with you awhile to tell you about her, and you could sketch her likeness for some missing person posters?”

“Ah,” Albedo says. “Yes, of course. I will clear some space.”

“Excellent,” Jean smiles, making to leave. “My thanks, Albedo. And—Aether, Paimon, please get some rest afterwards. Arrangements with the inn have been made, and they are ready to accommodate your stay for as long as you need.”

Aether bobs his head again, murmuring a thank you, and in the next moment it is just the three of them.

Albedo is curious about the floating child, but…he puts this aside for now, clearing some notes off a stool for the Traveler to sit. He does so gingerly, looking around the workshop with fascination. Paimon floats, of course, but she moves this way and that in excitement.

“We heard that you’re really great at drawing—Paimon can’t wait to see a master at work!” she exclaims, and Albedo smiles wryly.

“I hope I will not disappoint,” he demurs, as he moves around to locate his materials.

“Thank you, for agreeing to do this,” Aether adds, hesitating a little on the words. “I’m sorry—my mastery of the language is…not so good, yet.”

Albedo prepares the proper paper and pencils, then glances at him sidelong.

“You speak it well, but would you prefer to use a language more comfortable to you?” he asks, and watches Aether’s eyes go wide with shock.

A heartbeat passes, and Aether rises from his seat—

And slams Albedo into the wall by the collar, his hands fisted into his shirt.

It is an aggressive action, yet not one fueled by violence, but desperation. Aether’s eyes are begging as they well up with tears, and his entire body trembles. Paimon watches with her hands over her mouth, completely taken aback by this turn of events and unsure of what to do.

“Where? How?” Aether chokes out, his voice raw, “Tell me—you’ve met her, haven’t you? She taught you. There is no one else left besides she and I who know this tongue.”

“It was many years ago,” Albedo says, putting his own hands gently over Aether’s. There is already a lot understood in that statement; neither Albedo nor Aether are quite human, and neither are quite willing to reveal such personal secrets so openly just yet. “The last I saw her was in a nameless flower field, when I was on my way to this city. I know not what she is doing, nor where she is now. I am sorry.”

Aether loosens his hold, breathing ragged, and steps back.

“I am sorry too, for my reaction,” he says, running a hand through his hair, still distressed. He paces a little, unsure of what to do with all the adrenaline thrumming in his veins. “It has been…quite some time, that I’ve heard our language, and from someone other than Lumine.”

“No harm done,” Albedo assures him, though he suspects his back will be a little sore.

The two regard each other for a moment, and Paimon looks between them.

“Will someone please explain what is going on?!” she demands, and Aether rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

“He…knows a language I thought was lost,” Aether says, then pins her with his gaze. “Paimon…you can’t mention what happened here to anyone else, I mean it. Please.

“Wha? Paimon doesn’t get it, but…if you say so. It’s unfair to leave Paimon out, though!”

“I’m sorry,” Aether says, ruffling her hair. “I’ll…explain to you later. And I’ll buy you more Sticky Honey Roast.”

“Yes! Alright, Paimon will do whatever you say!”

Albedo smiles a little, and motions for Aether to sit.

Neither are sure how much to reveal, and also in front of Paimon, so they go through the motions of the situation. Aether describes Lumine in vast detail, and though Albedo does not need it, it is fascinating to hear of her through the eyes of her brother, and match his words to what he knows.

By the end, Paimon marvels over the final drawing, and Aether goes quiet over the portrait. It is a remarkable likeness, down to the way she holds herself and the gleam in her eye.

“Thank you,” Aether murmurs, and Albedo knows he means more than just for the drawing.  

“Alright then! Let’s go to Good Hunter now!” Paimon cheers, and flies off first without waiting for an answer.

Aether lingers, as expected, handing back the sketch with reluctance so that it can be copied.

“You may have the original, once the posters are produced,” Albedo tells him, and Aether smiles.

“My thanks,” he says, then hesitates before continuing. “Please…could we meet up again? I’d…like to speak more to you, about…a few things, really, but about Lumine especially. And…I cannot express how much it means, to be speaking this again.”

“I may be difficult to find,” Albedo admits, “But if you can get word to me, I will make time. I would like to speak to you, as well.”

Aether’s smile is brilliant, and he leaves the workshop in a mood just as bright.

Albedo watches him go, and wonders what to tell him, and how much. He looks at the sketch in his hand, unsure of the result of putting up these posters will be. There may be a danger in that it is too good a likeness.

She had said…not to look for her. The next time you find me, I will kill you. But surely that did not apply to Aether, whom she was looking for to begin with all the years.

He sighs deeply and wonders—

Lumine’s goals, and the truths she has found…what are they?

.

A thousand miles away, underground, Lumine stares down into a pit she cannot see the bottom of, gripping her blue pendant tightly. She holds it over the edge of the abyss, then loosens her fingers, the stone swinging freely.  

After a moment, she sighs.

She retracts her hand, holds her fist to her chest.  

She slips the chain back over her head.