Chapter Text
The power of the Anemo Archon is such that the first time he saved Xiao, he didn’t even Guide him to safety, not as such.
~
The tragic fate of Liyue’s yaksha was even crueler for those of them born as Sentinels. Their naturally heightened strength, speed, and perception made for legendary feats on the battlefield, but this greater physical prowess also led to faster accrual of karmic debt and its horrific effects. Any Sentinel, human or adeptus, can suffer from sensory overstimulation and fall into a temporary catatonic state, called a “zone”; but those also infected by the hatred of fallen gods succumbed far more readily, and the damage caused by each zone left them more and more vulnerable.
The obvious answer for any Sentinel - to shelter their mind under the protection of a bonded Guide - proved impossible for them. The gift of Empathy is not uncommon among adepti, but of the illuminated beasts who answered Morax’s call to serve as yaksha, none were Guides; nor did any other adeptus prove compatible to bond with them. Unmatched in strength and skill, they were nevertheless forced to bear the weight of karmic debt alone.
Quiet, stoic Xiao was a little different. His early life and forced servitude as a devourer of dreams gave him much greater command over his own mind than most Sentinels. Though the hatred of the dead clung to him as persistently as it did the other yaksha, he found he could wall it off so that his inner being remained uncorrupted.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less to lose the other yaksha, his friends—his family being driven to madness by the crumbling of their minds and the poison that had seeped into their souls. Still, he stayed, even when the yaksha began to tear each other or themselves apart, or fled in terror of doing so; he didn’t flinch when Morax informed him that Bosacius was missing and he would now have to continue their work alone; he fought and bled and never dishonored their sacrifices with pity for them or himself.
Even now, millennia later, he won’t allow himself to see their losses or his own growing pain as a burden to be resented or put aside after sufficient service. His contract with Morax, or Rex Lapis, or whatever title he uses, will continue for as long as he is needed.
~
The affairs of other nations have never been a concern except in the most dire of circumstances, such as the fall of Khaenri’ah. Xiao does not consider the identity or personality of any other gods of particular interest unless they cross paths with his lord. It’s not until the Archon War is long past and the weight of his sins has begun to eat into his core that Xiao first crosses paths with Venti.
It starts, as so many problems do, with a bad day: as an unbonded Sentinel, Xiao is finally feeling the effects of too many years alone, and it’s getting harder to shut out the swelling chorus of voices at the back of his mind. He barely requires sleep, but he still hasn’t rested properly for weeks. All sorts of creatures are drawn to his misery, and Xiao can’t go anywhere in Liyue without fighting them off, even in broad daylight; he scarcely has time to breathe before the demons come for him at dusk, again and again.
He destroys them all, but there were too many. He’s left barely standing amidst a curling black mass of hatred, panting, trembling, struggling to remain upright.
Any Sentinel learns early on to maintain a defensive layer around their mind to protect against outside influences, and Xiao has always had an additional inner layer to wall off his karmic debt, which floats atop his inner being without intruding. But tonight is different. He feels it find a way through his defenses, and he can’t stop it: a thousand tendrils of miasma emerge from the dark to twine around his limbs, digging through his flesh. It’s anchored in his bones, spreading through his blood, eating away at the very fabric of his being; the voices are no longer whispers, but a roar that grows louder and louder, till his head is splitting. He has no strength to fight it, and no will to stop it anymore.
His spear drops from slackened fingers. His shoulders slump, his head bows, his mask suddenly as heavy as a mountain. He’s drowning in sickly black, agony radiating through his entire body, not even allowing him the numbness of a zone. His last stray hope is that his lord will be the one to find him and put him down swiftly, before he can do any—
There’s a curious sound at the edge of his awareness. The tendrils flinch, a shudder that loosens their grasp enough for Xiao to feel a stab of confusion. What’s going on? Why is it stopping with his mind still intact?
More sound follows: the light, dancing notes of a flute. The blackness retreats as though the lilting music is burning it away, leaving the yaksha standing slack-jawed, listening to the ethereal strains that saved him from himself. The sound is so sweet and unreal that he doesn’t even remember his own name till long after the song has ended.
But he gradually becomes aware that he is standing in the moonlight soaked with blood, sweat, and the more earthly miasma of the wet ground underfoot, and shakes off the music’s thrall. There’s no sign of his savior nearby, but that doesn’t matter. The threat is gone, inside and out. It’s time to return to the Inn.
Xiao isn’t stupid. There are few forces in Teyvat that have any effect on karmic debt, and for the music to have sufficient power to repel it even at some distance, it had to have come from one of the original Seven. It certainly wasn’t his archon, which meant that he had been saved by the other, Lord Barbatos.
He doesn’t know much about the Anemo Archon. There have been long, long periods where he was missing from history, believed by many to be dead, but Xiao knows this is untrue: he heard his lord sighing one day not many years ago about a cleverly forged contract on his desk, something about a hundred barrels of wine. But when Xiao expressed indignation on his behalf, the Geo Archon merely gave a tolerant smile, explaining that this was one of Barbatos’ less bothersome pranks.
If anything, there was a note of relief in his voice. Xiao vaguely recalls a meeting of the archons in Liyue a long time ago, called by Barbatos himself, which grew into regular gatherings—something about drinking? It had nothing to do with the yaksha, so he didn’t pay any heed.
Well, he certainly is now. Xiao flits back to Wangshu Inn in a state of complete disbelief, the notes still singing in his head and his limbs free of the pain that has become part of him. He doesn’t know what to think or how to feel.
But there’s really nothing to think, or to feel: he owes Barbatos a debt for the opportunity to remain of use to his lord and the people of Liyue. He will not presume to go and thank him, but await the chance to repay him. Simple as that.
Till then, he continues carrying out his duty to Rex Lapis and to Liyue. The pain returns little by little, and though he feels sparks of longing deep within himself, the hope that he might hear the flute again, he ignores them—he doesn’t need such a thing to do his job properly. He would never ask Barbatos, either: even if he is a Guide known for his easy nature, and his fondness for pestering Xiao’s lord, the Anemo Archon has better things to do than maintain a weapon in his service.
~
Then…catastrophe. The news of Rex Lapis’ murder—a strange traveler, rage and grief, preparation for vengeance upon the humans of the Harbor who allowed his death and stupidly, callously blamed a foreigner without evidence—
But when it comes time to fight the creature unsealed from beneath the waves, there is no question of what to do. Xiao still has his duty to Liyue and to the legacy of Rex Lapis, and he readily joins the rest of the adepti in the battle against Osial and the wretched Fatui.
There’s change afoot after that, both good and bad. The Qixing come to an agreement with the adepti, and with the Traveler. She is one of the strangest people Xiao has ever met: human, but not, with emotions that are not merely unreadable, but apparently blank. As a Sentinel, he can’t tell the state of others’ minds, just keep his own shielded from a Guide’s interference; however, soon after the cleanup begins, he overhears Cloud Retainer join Ganyu and Moon Carver - the most reliable Guides of his acquaintance - in conversation about it.
Of course, once Cloud Retainer has scolded them for gossiping, she immediately launches into a tirade about why an outlander should have such an inscrutable head and whether she could fabricate some sort of device to render the same effect. The general consensus seems to be a no, thankfully.
(Xiao is fairly certain Cloud Retainer would drop dead of boredom if unreadable emotions became common and she lost the ability to pry wherever and whenever she wants with Empathy, but he keeps this opinion to himself.
Come to think of it, when he has a moment of whimsy in which to try to imagine Cloud Retainer bonding with anyone, he literally cannot fathom a Sentinel of any race who could possibly keep up with her. Even Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper, the most agreeable pair he knows, are careful to give each other personal time and space; Cloud Retainer would find the notion…difficult.)
The thought of acquiring his own Guide is so far outside the boundaries of Xiao’s imagination that it literally never approaches, never mind crossing it. When he’s traveling with Lumine to gather supplies two days post-Osial, she witnesses him having another, smaller flareup of karmic debt, barely avoiding a zone; she’s understandably alarmed, though she seems uninjured by their proximity. But she does provide some amusement with the question, “If you’re a Sentinel, why don’t you bond with a Guide? Couldn’t they help you?”
Xiao has to give her credit: the idea makes him laugh outright, which has hardly ever happened. “What’s so funny?” demands the loud flying thing.
“Think about it,” he says, shaking off the pain and urging the miasma down. It settles, but so, so slowly. “Who do you suggest I should mate with? A human whose flesh will melt from their bones if I come near them?”
The strange pair wince in tandem. “You have to be physically close for them to help you?” Lumine asks delicately.
“Is there smooching involved?” Paimon asks bluntly.
The yaksha sighs, determined to be patient with their ignorance. “Initially, yes. You join yourselves by biting each other.” He indicates the side of his neck, and grimaces at their shocked faces—how childish. “Afterwards, your minds remain connected even over great distances. But my mind and body are tainted by my karmic affliction. It would be very dangerous for someone to make any sort of contact with me, much less a permanent one.”
“Even in your head?” Paimon makes a face. “That’s horrible.”
“I’ve never encountered anything like this anywhere else,” muses Lumine. “Is it something that any Guide can do with any Sentinel?”
“A skilled Guide can help almost anyone out of a zone. But forming a bond requires that your minds fit one another, and you won’t know until you try.” The voices claw at his ears again, and he says without hearing himself, “I have no intention of hurting someone just to see if they might be suitable.”
“What if you meet a really strong Vision user—ooh, or another adeptus?” Paimon suggests with frankly embarrassing enthusiasm. “You wouldn’t hurt them!”
“I think he would have done that already if it was an option,” Lumine says, with refreshing intelligence.
“Exactly. There are none living who would even consider it, and I won’t inflict myself upon a future generation.” Xiao scowls. “My duty is to protect the people of Liyue, not to shackle one of them to an instrument of death.”
Even as he speaks, though, he feels his eyes widen. An instrument…
But then he smiles, brief and bitter. The idea of forcing his presence upon an archon, never mind any sort of bond, is laughable in the worst way.
“What’s that face for?” asks Paimon.
Thankfully, a cluster of slimes chooses that moment to burst out of the undergrowth, agitated by the presence of active karmic debt, and the conversation comes to an end…for now.
~
It’s not the last time the subject comes up, though, given the amount of time he ends up spending with the Traveler. Lumine is a puzzle, to be sure; she’s as strong and fast as a Sentinel - at least a human one - but she never shows any signs of going into a zone. He has to explain what that even is a few days later, when he hears his name called mid-afternoon and swoops in to help her subdue a band of Treasure Hoarders.
Their numbers are potentially troublesome, but his appearance scares three of them so badly that they sag to their knees right there in the road, slumping to the ground like puppets with their strings cut; those remaining all flee or surrender on the spot. Lumine has no idea what to do about the unconscious men until Xiao tells her about zones, explaining the difference between their state and his own karmic affliction.
“So that’s what it is,” muses the blonde, shooing Paimon away as the flying creature swoops in to poke at the men’s cheeks. “We thought some people just go too fast and run out of energy, and a zone is where they’re basically dead. This makes a lot more sense.”
Xiao crosses his arms in exasperation. “Did no one in Mondstadt…never mind.” Of course no one there explained it to her properly. Even the Guides who might have sensed the wrongness of Lumine’s mind would prefer not to intrude by asking about it, so she still barely understands what the designations are.
To be fair, Liyuens hadn’t made the most fair assumptions about her, either…
“And this doesn’t happen if they form a bond with a Guide?” Lumine clarifies, busily securing the men’s hands and feet for the Millelith to find them.
Xiao looks at their blank faces with distaste. “It’s highly unlikely to happen again, and their mate can help them right back out of it. These will take a while to come back on their own, unless the Millelith have a skilled Guide with them. Even then, the damage is done.”
“What damage?” demands Paimon, hovering close again.
Xiao shakes his head. “An unbonded Sentinel’s mind begins to crumble over time. It affects them every time the Sentinel enters a zone, until they start to suffer in their everyday life. Headaches, nerve problems, vision—I’m fine,” he adds sharply as Paimon looks him over. “It happens to me very rarely.”
“If you say so,” the outlander remarks.
“You sure don’t look damaged to Paimon,” Paimon says critically. “Except maybe your attitude?”
Xiao scoffs and turns his back. “The point remains,” he snaps. “I have no intention of bonding with anyone. Ever.”
“Awww, that’s too bad!”
Every thought comes to a crashing halt. The cheery voice washes over him like a cleansing breeze, the ever-present hiss and mutter of his karmic debt falling silent in the presence of divinity.
Then there’s a blur of green, the smell of a wheat field under easy sunlight, and a chirp of “Hold this!” Xiao finds himself reflexively obeying: his arms come up, and into them is dumped a….burlap sack, of…apples? He looks up—
“Whoooa! So many!” Paimon floats in an excited circle over his shoulder. “Paimon was wondering where you went, Tone-Deaf Bard!”
“Helping yourself to the fruits of our labor,” quips Lumine, to Paimon’s disgust. “You know, you could have helped us round these guys up first, before you started grabbing their…er, Venti? Are you listening?”
The Anemo Archon is not listening to her. He’s watching Xiao curiously, head cocked to one side as the yaksha tries to formulate words.
Barbatos is not what Xiao expected. Ever since the encounter in the marsh, he’s been picturing someone at least somewhat like the Geo Archon: a tall, merry, but capable and dignified figure, even with his tendency towards drunken mischief and harmless (?) pranks.
This Guide is as short as Xiao himself and even more slender, with delicate and very youthful features. He’s dressed as fancifully as any human bard in Mondstadt, complete with a pristine white flower in his cap.
But he is not young, or human. It’s hard to explain, but however unexpected his appearance, he feels like Barbatos; they’ve never met, but Xiao would know him anywhere.
Maybe it’s because the power radiating from him is gentle, far more muted than the steady pulse that Rex Lapis gave off in every form, barely a whisper…and yet it settles into Xiao’s skin and soothes away the burning, biting pain that has become his constant companion, a balm that even Rex Lapis couldn’t provide.
And maybe that’s why Xiao is so arrested by the bard’s curious stare, bright turquoise eyes framed by black braids that taper into beautifully vibrant color, much the same way the Geo Archon’s hair did. “Nah, I don’t see any damage, either,” he says to Paimon in a very cheeky way, and gives a huge smile. “The important thing is how you feel. Isn’t that right, Xiao?”
“How do you know my name?” should not be the first thing out of his mouth, but Xiao can’t help it: the feeling of peace is rapidly giving way to alarm at being so deeply and effortlessly perceived. Which is stupid, of course an archon who’s also a Guide would know everything—
“Relax,” says Venti, reaching out to touch his shoulder, only for Xiao to dodge away in reflexive panic. “Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot,” exclaims the archon. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. See?”
The confidence in his voice and the slight surge of his power are enough to make Xiao hold still while Venti pats his bare shoulder—but he can’t help flinching. “Aw, nuts,” the bard grumbles, and smiles ruefully. “Well, it didn’t hurt me, for what it’s worth.” He waggles his fingers. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”
Xiao frowns in protest. He doesn’t know how to explain that it didn’t hurt: he was startled at the absence of pain, not to mention the novelty of any touch at all—he helped Lumine not to fall when they faced Osial, and before that, he…honestly, he cannot remember any physical contact with another being that did not involve slashing or stabbing. He has to fight back a surge of emotion at being ambushed like this, brought face to face with his mysterious benefactor with no warning whatsoever, his skin still tingling where those light fingers had touched him…
Venti’s brilliant eyes go wide, and Xiao realizes too late that his mental shield is sufficient against any mortal Guides who might be lurking, but probably not to the senses of a curious archon. “Oh,” the bard says quietly.
“Are you two okay?” Lumine asks, breaking into Xiao’s frantic thoughts.
“Why are you staring at each other like that?” demands Paimon. “Did the Tone-Deaf Bard do something weird with his mind powers? …that you probably have? You never did really say—”
Xiao shakes himself, glaring at the odd little creature. “You could stand to show him some respect.” He tosses the bag of apples to Lumine, who catches it easily.
Paimon plants her tiny fists on her hips. “He’s not the archon anymore! Or, if he is, he’s not much of one anyway.”
To Xiao’s shock, Venti just grins, and returns Xiao’s disbelieving look with a nod. “C’mon. The carts are still in their camp. It’ll be easy to bring it back to the Harbor.” An apple appears in his hand like magic. “Except for this~”
“You can have one, and that’s it,” Lumine informs him. “Not that you really should.”
“Yeah!” Paimon chimes in. “Why did you bring just those back here and not the other stuff?!”
“Because I didn’t want the other stuff, silly,” Venti says gaily, winking at Xiao. “There’s not a single drop of wine.”
Lumine just sighs. “Well, lead the way to their camp, and we’ll take the load back. Especially the apples.”
“Ab-so-lutely,” sings Venti, and once more, Xiao has no idea what to think.
But he still helps to collect the stolen goods on the hand carts that were also taken from the merchants who posted the commission; Xiao resists the urge to go back and inflict further damage on the miscreants who stole supplies intended to help with the rebuilding. True to form, Lumine picks up the handles and begins pulling the heaviest one with no apparent effort; Xiao takes the second, leaving the third, equally laden, for Venti.
The bard lightly hops several feet into the air and onto the back of the cart, perching on a box. “Ready?” he asks, resting his chin on one hand, chomping the apple with the other.
Paimon makes a face, and Lumine gives him a look, but neither asks him what he’s doing. Doubtful but intrigued, Xiao begins walking behind Lumine, and Venti waves the apple: his entire cart hums with the vibration of Anemo flowing through it, and with it likely weighing only a few pounds now, it just takes a little push of more Anemo to get moving.
The journey back is a bit of a blur. Between the Hero of Liyue’s strength and the Anemo Archon’s mastery of his element, their pace is quick enough that Xiao has no complaints beyond the annoyance of physical labor.
More importantly, he can’t concentrate on the others’ conversation over the buzzing in his ears. For once, it’s not the voice of karmic debt; it’s the confusion of reconciling the distant, benevolent creature who inadvertently saved his life with the boy lounging on a crate with an apple as they trundle down the road.
Unfortunately, Xiao’s attention returns just as Paimon says, “So if you’re a Guide, and you want to bond with someone…” She squints at Venti from her position sitting on Lumine’s cart. “Are you bonded with someone?”
The archon chuckles. “I guess you guys can’t tell, huh?” He pauses, and Xiao feels his gaze on his back before Venti says, “Nope, archons don’t bond. We have too much stuff to do.”
“You sure don’t seem busy a lot of the time,” Paimon accuses.
“That’s because you have no idea what you’re talking about,” snaps Xiao, who’s just as surprised as them to find himself joining in. “Those with Empathy work tirelessly. The Dendro Archon suppresses the power of Sentinels so they can focus on study. The Hydro Archon presides over trials to ensure the Guides employed by the courts are honest. And if anyone in Mondstadt suffers a zone, their friends and family pray to Lord Barbatos to free them.”
The Traveler and her strange companion make properly impressed noises.
Venti makes a careless sound in return. “I don’t directly Guide a lot of people anymore. Too much work, you know?”
“Paimon knew it!” crows Paimon.
“Yep. Nowadays, I just play songs so people stay happy,” remarks Venti, and Xiao nearly trips. “But if anyone wants to pray at my statues, they’ve got enough power to soothe things a little. And the Church hires Guides to help out. They even have a service you can register with if you want to find someone compatible. So I am still a helper, thank you very much,” he finishes.
Paimon grumbles about him helping himself to other people’s stuff, but Xiao has had enough: he knocks her off the cart in a puff of Anemo, ignoring her screech of outrage. The bard laughs along with Lumine, then distracts them by launching into a story: apparently someone named Kaeya got drunk and did something that was just too—
And he’s off, Paimon staying sullen and quiet. It should be annoying how he rattles on like this, more than Xiao would ever normally tolerate. But the longer the archon talks, the longer Xiao waits to become tired of it, and it simply doesn’t happen. He’s almost sorry when they reach the bridge to Liyue Harbor and the bard brings his cart to a halt. “This is where they want it, yes?” he asks.
“Close enough,” says Lumine, setting the brake on her cart.
“Paimon would say thanks for your time, but you were just gonna spend it getting drunk,” Paimon snipes.
Xiao glares at her. “How dare you—”
“That’s sweet of you, but she’s not wrong,” says the Anemo Archon. He smiles at Xiao again, but the yaksha can’t summon a response, as he’s trying to comprehend being called sweet. “I’m so glad I finally got a chance to meet you, Xiao.” To his dismay, the smile fades. “I’m very sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”
He knew of Xiao already, then? …Ah. “Did Lord Lapis…er…”
“He talked about you sometimes.” The bard scrunches his nose, a strange, endearing expression that Xiao is startled to recognize as sadness. “Anyway, I won’t hold you up any longer.” He steps back, Anemo gathering around him. “I—”
“Please wait,” Xiao blurts out. “That is—Lord Barbatos—”
“Venti,” the archon gently corrects him. “Just Venti, if you please.”
Xiao sighs. “Venti, then. I…” What does he want to say? “Er. Please…take care.”
He feels like the biggest idiot in all of Teyvat. Take care? He just told a god to take care? Now Lumine is raising an eyebrow, and that stupid floating creature is getting a horribly suggestive look on her face.
But Venti just chuckles, as though nothing is wrong at all. “You too, Xiao.” He nods to the others. “Traveler. Paimon.” And with a neat little whoosh of Anemo, he’s gone.
“Oooh, is someone—mmph!” is all that makes it out of Paimon’s foul little mouth before Lumine is grabbing her and saying over her muffled protests, “Thank you so much for your help, Xiao. We can wait here for the merchants if you need to get back to your duties.”
“I do.” Xiao nods stiffly, and before Paimon can break free, he whisks himself far, far away to safety.