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It is a truth most universally acknowledged, that any male bird established in his domain, and of a certain age and affect, should be in want of a nest mate. Someone to dote upon, to preen and to pamper. Someone to sing to, someone to dance for. And, naturally, someone who will, in turn, return each and every sign of favor and affection in full.
This was why Xiao was certain he could never have a nest mate. He had neither the affect nor the favor with which to nurture a gentle love.
The Bishui Plains were wide and sprawling, gold and amber leaves of trees beside fields of wildflowers and tall grass. The wide, blue river separated Xiao's land in the Dihua Marsh from the rest of Liyue. Born to the Yaksha family, he alone survived the war that crowned their current Emperor. Now, in the sprawling peace afterwards, Xiao chose to live quietly and simply along the riverbank in his estate.
Of course, for such occasions as these, when the Emperor chose to visit him, Xiao did still maintain appearances. The large staff kept the buildings in good shape, the gardens were tended to, and all things were in order well before the Lord of Liyue stepped foot on Xiao's property. Still, as he'd greeted him at the gates of his home, he could not hide from Morax's sharp eyes the well-kept muscles of his arms or the scent of the wildflowers from his hair.
"You've been to the river," he observed after Xiao had bowed low for him.
"The meadow," Xiao replied. Morax had regarded him then with a rare, wide smile.
"It is good to see you, my friend."
After the usual pomp and circumstance of formalities and greetings of nobility was finished, they'd sat together for tea on the veranda. It overlooked Xiao's gardens, full of all of Liyue's natural flora, as well as some of his odd favorites from other nations — qingxin, glaze lillies, nilotpala lotuses, cecilias — and, further up, stretched a lovely view of Wangshu, cresting just beyond the banks of the Bishui river.
It was then, as Morax's eyes ran along the scenery before him, that he asked Xiao a question.
"Xiao, would you ever take a nest mate?"
A breeze rustled the flowers and bushes in the garden. Xiao sucked in a sharp breath.
"I would not," he replied to his Majesty's question. The osmanthus tea served before them on the table was hot, steam rising from the tea cups. Xiao sat across from Morax. The Lord of Liyue leaned leisurely back into his chair to observe the breathtaking view.
"So certain." Morax reached for his cup of tea, but did not drink from it. He held it lightly instead. "Is it because you long for solitude so, or is it because you do not think you deserve a partner?"
Xiao pressed his lips together. "Either answer would displease you."
"They would," Morax agreed, "though I do not build friendships with those who only seek to please me. Let me ask you a simpler question." He placed his cup back on the table between them. "Have you ever longed for a nest mate?"
Xiao took a slow breath in before speaking. "That is another matter." He turned his gaze to the landscape, to the blue skies and the white clouds drifting over open plains. "What I want… is peace. Liyue's peace. And you have delivered it."
There was the quiet of the afternoon around him. But Xiao's ears thundered with the sound of his own heartbeat. "If you ordered me to take a nest mate, I would." He ran a finger along the rim of his tea cup. "But the both of us know well how I am often regarded."
Which was to say: Xiao was regarded poorly. Though he was a celebrated general in Liyue's war, it had been a decade since the Emperor was crowned. Since then, he had not visited the capitol. Xiao did not socialize often or well amongst those from the Sea of Clouds, and despite the high status he was born into naturally, he had no desire to reinforce it. The royal and wealthy people of Liyue City had known little but love and luxury for all their lives.
But Xiao came from the Dihua Marsh, where the fertile soils were coveted by many. And it was his people who sowed the rice fields, his people who would (and had) died to defend their northern borders. From the tranquil plains of Qingce to the towering mountainsides of Stone Gate — each and every living soul between fell under Xiao's protection.
The people from the Sea of Clouds relied on the Milileth and the Emperor's might. But Xiao alone protected those in the north of Liyue. And the Emperor well knew this. Respected it, even; more than once, between sips of osmanthus tea or wine, in peace and quiet like this, had Morax suggested it would be best for Liyue if Xiao could become his heir.
He never formally asked. He knew it was for naught. Xiao could never abandon the marsh, nor his duty to the north.
Even so, to Morax, it was a matter of pragmatics. This was what he had set out to accomplish in his visit. Xiao, no matter what he might prefer, was the Duke of the Bishui Plains; and as such, an integral tool for alliance with other nations. And, far more practically, Morax wished to see one of his oldest and dearest friends well and settled.
Behind him, Xiao's wings shifted — not a ruffle, not quite, but to Morax, who had known him for many years, it was an indication of Xiao's discomfort with the current conversation. But Morax could not yield, for he wished for this final contract — that of Xiao's happiness, and lineage secured — to be set.
"It is true, you are lacking in a friendlier condition. But it is true, too, that you are of a particularly gentle disposition."
"You are wrong. My disposition tends towards darkness. Besides, you have no need of a gentle pawn."
"I disagree on the manner of your tendencies. You are right that I do not require gentle subjects. Yet you have never been a pawn." Morax turned his eyes from the garden now towards Xiao. The sudden attention of those stern eyes cast Xiao's gaze downwards immediately. "Not to me. Which is why, if you will allow it, I would offer a solution."
"I would never deny you a thing," Xiao answered, and meant it. The Lord of Liyue had rescued Xiao and his people many times in battle, and Xiao could never repay such heavy debts. His loyalty, then, was absolute. If Morax demanded his life, he would deliver it.
"You are as a son to me." A hand found Xiao's cheek and pulled it upwards, gently. His eyes met Morax's, polished gold and cor lapis, and full of warmth. "I would see you happy first, and married only if you want it after that, but as it happens, I hope both might be achieved at once." He took a sip of his tea and set the cup down. "In a fortnight, a dear friend of mine from Mondstadt will pass through Stone Gate on his way to Guyun Palace."
Xiao's eyes widened, but Morax turned his gaze again to the horizon.
"Take care of him as he travels through the Bishui Plains. That is all I ask of you today."
There was nothing more for Xiao to do but to quietly agree.
On the morning of the Mondstadt party's arrival, Xiao rose before the sun. He bathed early, careful to preen and primp his feathers so they were clean and fully presentable. By the time he finished, the rest of the estate had also risen. His staff moved about hurriedly but confidently, preparing guest rooms and meals.
Xiao expected a large entourage from Mondstadt City. But runners from Stone Gate reported only the usual foot traffic and merchant groups passing through. Xiao did his best not to let his stomach coil uncomfortably at the news.
He waited silently, taking up perch at the front gates. Made of stone and iron, the walls and gates stood as tall as they did in his youth, never eroding along the edges. Such was the tenacity of the Emperor's favor.
Around noon, Xiao's ears heard a familiar sound. He took a steadying breath, and then he looked up and scanned the skies.
There, like a cloud in the sky, flew a bird. Larger than any wild crane or hawk native to the plains. Not so large as to startle the scouts stationed atop Stone Gate's cliffs, either.
Xiao felt his breath hitch. But he stood, tall and still, as the figure approached. Wings of purest white shone bright under the sun, giving way to human features. Dark hair. Clothes of green and gold, woven from linen and wool.
The flying man alighted a few steps away from Xiao. His eyes were bright as the grasses of Bishui Plain.
"Xiao!" he said, voice high and cheerful. "It's wonderful to see you again."
Xiao watched as those white wings slowly folded in on themselves, pulling back behind the man's back.
"Venti," he said finally. Observed, as the other's gaze locked onto his at the sound of his name. "It's been…"
"Five years," Venti said, taking a few steps towards him. His smile dropped at the edges, brow furrowing.
"… Too long," Xiao finished. He broke away from their shared gaze, bowing low. "Welcome to Liyue, your Highness."
"Rise, Duke of Bishui," Venti said, voice lower. Xiao fought the instinct to look up now. "You have never been beneath me. Do not pretend you are."
"You've come alone." Xiao did as Venti instructed, and when their eyes met again, he saw the firm pout on the other's lips, drank in the way he crossed his arms, displeased. "Reckless of you."
"General Jean will be most unhappy, yes," Venti agreed. His frown melted away, snow on a warm spring day. "I did not want to wait. Walks with a caravan take far too long." He at last reached Xiao, standing beside him to extend his hand. Xiao hesitated for a moment's breath before slipping his own around the offered arm.
Their wings bumped against each other's. The both of them froze at the same time, before Venti gently tugged Xiao's arm closer, and they fell into step together, walking towards Xiao's home. Perhaps sensing the fragility of the moment, his staff made themselves scarce, and so they entered the building to find themselves alone.
"Your quarters are in the left wing." Xiao spoke, surprised by how difficult it was to speak in full voice. He cleared his throat.
"And naturally, yours are to the right?" Venti nudged his elbow into Xiao. "Five years, and it seems that, at least, has not changed."
"Little has," Xiao admitted, quietly. Venti gasped as Xiao's wings brushed against his again, ghost-like touch and feather-light pressure. His eyes snapped to Xiao's face, trailing down and then up again. "Please make yourself at home." He pulled his arm from Venti's, took his hand into his own, and squeezed, once, before letting go and turning away.
Venti's disappearing act held only until sunset, when the rest of the Mondstadt caravan arrived, though it lacked the flair and majesty of Liyue's processionals. Instead, an elite group of cavalry and soldiers appeared in short order, led by Dandelion Knight Jean. They quietly arranged themselves into their quarters after dinner was served.
Naturally, Venti made himself scarce. He took his meal in his room, and did not open the door when the Dandelion Knight went to check on him. Instead, in the late hours of the night, when Xiao tucked himself into his study to chip away at the never-ending scrolls and paperwork a high-ranking official always had to sift through, a rappinig at his door gave him pause.
"Enter," he said. The door opened, and one of his staff silently directed the Dandelion Knight forward.
"Good evening, my Lord," she said with a nod.
Xiao did not call into question the breach in etiquette. The people of Mondstadt would bow before no lords, not even their own. Instead, he finished signing off on a draft for an inn that was to be built upon Wangshu, before lowering his quill and leaning back in his seat.
"Good evening," he answered. Jean nodded again. "Please sit."
"There is no need. My visit shall be brief." She sighed. "Our Prince's behavior reflects poorly upon our nation. Please accept my apology on his behalf."
Xiao's eyes narrowed slightly. "In Liyue, such words might be treasonous," he reminded her.
"In Mondstadt, no man is above others," she replied. "Even so, his Highness is… he celebrates Mondstadt's freedom in his own ways." She shook her head. "He says he will not speak to me tonight. But he journeyed by himself today."
"I saw to him myself upon his arrival. He is unharmed."
"Thank you." Jean nodded once again. "My Lord… May I speak freely?"
"You are from Mondstadt. You need no permission from me to do so."
She smiled, then. "His Highness is restless. He wants to settle, but he fears clipping his wings." She ignored Xiao's wince at those words. "He has said as much to your Emperor himself. But even so, he was eager to see you."
Xiao felt his heart jump in his chest.
"It has been a long time," he said, echoing his words with Venti. "But I consider him a friend, even now."
Jean smiled. "He has only ever referred to you in the same manner." She stepped backwards. "I fear he will not see me tonight. But his habits are hard to break." She turned her eyes to the window. "You grow cecilias here."
Xiao glanced out the window. His study overlooked the veranda and the garden. In the darkness, lanterns lit the dark paths below. He saw a lone figure step off the veranda, heading for the flowers.
Jean took her leave. But Xiao soon followed, tossing his cape over his shoulders.
"You're no night owl," Venti said as he approached. "Not in the way I am."
"Neither of us is an owl," Xiao replied. "Birds, yes, but even then, not in full."
"True. We are more human than we are anything else."
Xiao eyed the tree Venti was sitting in, sprawled up in the highest boughs. "It's dangerous to be so high up late at night."
Venti, leaning his back against the trunk, legs dangling off either side of a sturdy branch, peeks his head down over the edge. He watches as Xiao steps up to the tree. "I'm not afraid." he ruffled his feathers for emphasis.
Xiao lets out a huff and begins to haul himself up the tree.
"Have you any clue what Morax would say?" he wondered. Moving slowly, he picked his way up the branches, careful where he put each hand and foot. He did not enjoy falling.
"I wonder when I gave you the impression I ever cared for his opinion." Venti sat up and reached down, taking Xiao's hand, helping to pull him up and over with surprising ease. Xiao let go the moment he was steady again, palm warm from the contact.
"When last I saw you." Xiao settled against the branch. "It was him you looked to before leaving."
Venti's eyes sought his out. His eyes flickered with the moonlight filtering through the leaves, expression cast in shadows. They shifted as Venti leaned forwards.
"I have never looked to him — nor anyone else, for that matter — for permission," he said. "I have always been free to do as I please."
"That is what you fought for, too. I am well aware of it."
"I do not wish to wear a crown." Venti sighed. "I shall abdicate the moment I am allowed to do so."
"So you do not wish to do so."
"Not yet." One of Venti's wings curled around himself. White feathers, snowy and pure, enveloped his form. "I must give a compelling reason, you see. One the people would accept."
"Your people would accept many reasons, should you pair them with wine and good food."
Venti laughed. "They deserve more than that. They deserve something to hope for." He pushed his wing away from his face, pushing it back with a roll of his shoulder. "Back to the matter at hand; Morax's opinion of me matters little in the grand scheme of things. Take, for example, the fact he admires Focalors. Focalors!"
"A queen of balanced justice naturally is due respect."
"Respect is one thing. Admiration is another. And I would hand neither to justice demanded by reign alone. No, Morax's opinions are his own. I only looked to him because I…" His breath hitched there. "It matters not. Five years have passed. Xiao, rather than worry about currying Morax's favor, I would ask for yours."
"Mine?" Xiao's wings fluttered behind him, startled. "I am not, in that grand scheme of yours, an important piece on the board."
"That is where you are wrong. Even now." Venti smiled. "Five years is a lot of friendship to make up for. Might I ask for your company at breakfast tomorrow?"
"Of course." Xiao stared into Venti's eyes, searching, but he did not find any sort of clarity within them; only the swirling depths of his conviction, its motivation uncertain.
Venti turned his gaze to the garden below. "I saw the cecilias," he said, quietly. "You remembered."
"I never forgot." Venti turned sharply to look at him. Xiao did his best not to shuffle his weight under the weight of his gaze.
"You didn't."
Something heavy fell between them, a weight Xiao could not risk pulling him down.
"Rest well," he said, shifting to climb down the tree.
"Wait." Venti slid his hands against Xiao's. "May I?" His wings unfurled behind him.
Xiao held his breath for a beat. He saw the set of Venti's jaw and knew there was no changing his mind. "You may."
So Venti took Xiao into his arms, and together, they pushed off the tree as one. Venti's wings carried them safely down, gliding gently in the night. Xiao's wings, too, spread out, but they were eclipsed at once by the bright, snowy feathers covering Venti's.
Xiao held tight to Venti, heart beating faster in his chest. Where his palm rested near Venti's neck, he felt the other's pulse quicken, too. Close like this, it was impossibly warm, cradled by feathers and linen and lithe arms.
But the wind against their skin was cool with night's chill. When they landed, Xiao allowed himself to linger for a moment more before pulling out of Venti's hold. Their eyes met again.
"Good night," he breathed. Venti's hands twitched, and then he lowered them to his sides, wings still stretched out fully behind him.
"Good night, Xiao," Venti replied.
Breakfast, to Venti, meant lunch time to all other pleasant company. So by the time Mondstadt's darling prince meandered down the stairwells and into the dining room, Xiao had been awake for several hours already. Venti, still in his night robes, yawned widely. When he noticed Xiao's stare, he froze, and then his smile turned crooked. He stretched his arms above him as a cat would, and Xiao looked hastily away when he caught his own eyes roaming.
"Venti! Change into your day clothing, it's past noon!"
"But these are my just-past-noon clothes, dear Jean." Venti shrugged, and then, upon realizing Xiao was not seated around the table, raised his brows. "And where are you off to, little finch of Bishui?"
Xiao did not answer, but he was unsurprised when Venti met him soon afterwards at the gates of his home. Venti followed after him when Xiao set off walking. He led the way to the stables, passing by them without a sound.
"Slow down!" Venti called. "I haven't had breakfast, and you're moving as if you mean to lose me."
"Keep up, then," Xiao replied, a small smile tugging on his lips. Venti grumbled a bit, but he caught up to Xiao after a bit more walking, matching his pace.
"And where are we off to today?"
"The meadow," Xiao replied. Venti hummed, eyes turning to the sparkling river ahead in the distance.
"It's a ways off still. Why did we not take the horses?"
"I prefer the walk."
They fell into peaceful quiet, nothing but the sounds of their footfalls and their breathing filling the space. Grasses rustled occasionally, but there was no warm breeze to greet them this afternoon on their walk. The sun was high, so as soon as the meadow was in reach, Xiao wasted no time in settling by the lone Cuihua tree nearby, splaying out under its shade on the fresh grass.
Venti sat down beside him, though he did not lie down. Instead, he leaned against the tree, sighing. Finally, a breeze did blow, gently tussling Xiao's hair as it went. Beyond the meadow, the river narrowed to a stream, gurgling pleasantly along. Birds chirped above them from the branches of the Cuihua tree, singing to each other.
"It is spring, isn't it?" Venti observed. He listened intently, as if he might fully understand the sounds from the birds, before he turned his gaze to Xiao. He smiled. "Shall I sing to you, too?"
Xiao felt his cheeks warm at the thought. "Do not sing for my sake. Sing for yours." Still, he rolled over onto his side, taking in the sight of Venti resting peacefully in the shade beside him.
Venti's eyes softened. "Your way with words could be almost poetic, if it were not so stripped of romance." He cleared his throat. "Very well, I shall not sing at all, then."
Instead, he began to hum. Light, and airy, carried by the breeze between them, Xiao soaked in the sound. Watched Venti's lips part and come together again, took in the way he breathed steadily between each line; and when Venti closed his eyes in quiet revel, head leaning back in joy, cheeks pink, Xiao nearly forgot to blink at all.
His heart thrummed, full and empty at the same time. Something gnawing found its way into his chest. When Venti finally finished his song, and opened his eyes again, Xiao forgot about the meadow, about the wind and the river and the Cuihua's fragrant wood.
There was only him, and the way Venti regarded him quietly, both looking for something from the other that might shape their next move.
Xiao licked his lips. Venti's eyes traced the movement. Xiao reached into the pouch he'd brought with him, pulling bread and dried meat from it.
"Here." He held them out. An offering. Venti's eyes widened, and he smiled blindingly, white wings ruffling behind him. It was a clear expression of pleasure.
"Thank you!" Venti took the food eagerly and dug in. Xiao could bear no longer to look at him, lest he forget entirely how to breathe; so he turned his head towards the river, watching how the water spilled over the stones there by the banks. By the time Venti finished his small meal, Xiao felt his eyelids growing heavy with the desire to nap.
"You know," Venti said, shuffling closer, "you have such a strange personality." Xiao blinked the drowsiness away from his eyes and turned to face him. "You hold yourself to a distance. But you care for the people of the plains deeply. There is little you would not relinquish for their benefit."
"It is my duty to keep them safe." Xiao looked up, watched the birds warbling and hopping in the branches of the Cuihua. Every creature, every human, and every life living in the Bishui Plains depended upon its usual way of life for stability. Disruptions were unaffordable when peace was so fragile, and so hard-won ten years ago.
"And who keeps you safe, Xiao?" Venti wondered. "If you are watching over all of them, who is it who watches over you?"
Xiao did not answer. His heart thrummed in his chest.
Venti did not press the matter. But he sidled alongside Xiao, stretching his wings out to keep them bathed in shade as the sun shifted abovehead.
The first time they'd met, Xiao had lay dying, the sole victor of a brutal skirmish. He'd crawled away from the remnants of the fight, strength waning with every breath, until he collapsed beside the pond nearby. He stared at it, watched as the water rippled under the sunset, blue and gold and red mixing and blurring. He thought it not even half as pretty as the river back home.
Breaths shallow, fever beginning to set in, and wings broken and clipped, he'd thought himself lucky to have made it so far during war. He'd outlived his siblings. He'd even found a letter from whoever commanded the ambush. He hoped Morax would find it. Find him. He hoped Liyue would find peace.
Xiao had fought bravely, and he should have no regrets.
Yet tears streamed down his face. He did not want to die. He wanted to fly. He was unsure if he ever would again; the enemy had clipped his wings in their final acts of fury.
He closed his eyes. And then warm hands jolted him awake.
"Hey!" Wide, green eyes, the color of the grass in his favorite meadow back home, looked down at him. "Stay with me, I've got you." He was gathered up into strong arms. He gasped against a gentle touch that pushed his bangs from his face. "Oh… You're one of Morax's…"
"Morax?" Xiao's eyes fluttered open. But he did not see his chosen lord; instead, he saw only a boy wrapped in green, dark twin braids framing his frowning face. Was he one of the Gods? He was beautiful, soft around the edges.
Xiao shakily pulled the paper from the inside of his pockets. "Morax… Give him this…" The boy's eyes widened, and for just a moment, there was nothing but the green of the meadows and the blue of the river.
"No." The boy shook his head. "I will take you to him, and you can deliver it yourself." Xiao heard a familiar sound — rustling feathers. "I am Venti. What is your name, little finch?"
Venti… He had heard that name before. Somewhere. But it eluded him now.
"I can't," Xiao said, voice raw. "I can't tell you."
Green eyes softened. "Then tell me about yourself."
As they took off into the sky, Xiao closed his eyes again. But he answered. He told the boy of his home on the Bishui Plains, of the memories he had of his childhood, surrounded by siblings and laughter. His voice lost strength, but by then, Venti had landed, a hand carding through Xiao's hair.
"Here." The stranger produced a sweetflower from somewhere. "These match your eyes. They're pretty, aren't they?"
"And bright." Xiao shook his head. "Qingxin are better."
"Oh, are they?" Other people circled, murmuring, but Venti held his hand even as they began to take him away. "I think cecilias are the best, though."
"I've never seen one," Xiao admitted. Venti laughed.
"I will bring them to you," he said. Then he was gone, and Xiao was waking up with the Milileth and Morax at his side.
Mondstadt, he was informed, had rescued him. And would provide their support for their cause in the war.
On the windowsill in his room, a vase of white flowers bloomed. Half were qingxin; the other half, pale and lightly fragrant, were cecilias.
Venti's travel party was set to leave in three day's time. During his stay, Venti found any and every excuse to spend time with Xiao.
If Xiao went out early in the mornings to wade in the river waters, he found Venti waiting for him at the door of the house. If he stayed up late to read or to fill out reports, Venti kept him company, chattering away about this or that to lull him into something almost like contentedness. They took meals together and walked about the estate side by side.
Except, Xiao dared not venture back into the garden. Not so long as Venti and his clear, green eyes were still here, all-too keen to see those flowers for what they stood for.
But aside from that, it was easy, falling back into his friendship with Venti. Easy, as if five years had not stretched between them. The time became little more than a bubbling brook, easy to hop over, even for a finch or a dove. Some things were impossible to resist; and Xiao could not turn away from the sound of Venti's laughter, not even if his life depended upon doing so.
It seemed much the same for Venti, though he appeared to be doing much less of the resisting and more actively placing himself within Xiao's orbit whenever humanly possible.
Such as now, as Xiao was midway through preening his feathers in the Bishui river. Venti, rubbing tired eyes, approached the banks lazily.
"You're no early bird," Xiao found himself calling out. "Not in the way I am."
Venti perked up, raising his brows.
"Using a bard's words against him is the highest form of flattery, you know." Venti approached the riverbank gingerly. "Is the water not cold?"
"Very."
"I am not particularly fond of cold water."
"You may stay on the banks, then, your Highness."
Venti chirped unhappily at that, high-pitched and squawking. He stretched his wings out defiantly, kicking his shoes off, and then stomped into the water after Xiao. He gasped, shivering.
Xiao watched the reaction with rising amusement. "Now that you've confirmed for yourself the exact temperature, you may as well clean your feathers, too."
"No, thank you," Venti said, voice slightly strained. He shivered again, wading closer to Xiao. "Wait there." He dipped his own cupped hands into the water, biting his lip, and then pulled them out. He brought them near Xiao's back, where his wings stretched out, halfway damp already from earlier preening.
Gently, he poured the cold river water against Xiao's bare back, letting it flow past where his skin met the sprouting of his wings. Xiao winced when he felt Venti's fingers touch lightly there, unused to the feeling. But then Venti began to comb his fingers gently through the feathers, and it was all Xiao could do not to let out a whine at the sensation, at the almost painful intimacy of it.
He stood as still as he could, willing his heart to stay inside his chest, as Venti slowly raked his fingers up the ridges and the bends in Xiao's wings, carefully tending to them as if they were his own. He cleaned and fluffed each feather, dipping cold, wet fingers in between, rubbing soothing patterns as he went.
By the time he was done, Xiao had sunken to his knees in the water, uncaring of the mud that would stain the fabric of his trousers. He bit his lip so Venti would not draw any further sounds from him that he might regret letting loose.
"There. Your plumage is glowing now, Xiao."
Xiao took in a slow, measured breath, and then rose to his feet. His wings, loose from the preening, felt light; Xiao's chest thrummed with something indescribable as he turned to face Venti.
There he stood, smiling, very pleased with himself. The river, dark and blue as Venti's hair, stretched wide around the both of them.
"You still…" Xiao's voice failed him. Venti's smile fell, but he stepped closer to Xiao regardless.
"Always," Venti whispered, so softly Xiao was certain only he could hear it. Venti stepped closer still. His hand wrapped around Xiao's. He brought it up, kissing his open palm. "Allow me this indulgence. To be selfish, just for right now." His other fingers traced Xiao's face, from his jawline to his ear, and then steady against his cheek.
Xiao's breaths came quick. All he could see was green and green.
They kissed; he could not say for certain whether or not it was he who had leaned in first.
"Xiao," Venti whispered, once he'd pulled back. His hands cupped Xiao's face; Xiao momentarily closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. Venti looked at him like he was something wonderful, something that stole his breath away.
"We should go back," Xiao managed. Venti blinked, and then the green dulled. The world around them returned, wet trousers clinging to his legs, mud caking between his toes. "They're going to wonder where we are."
"Let them." But Xiao shook his head, so Venti dropped his hands. Xiao opened his mouth to protest it, but snapped it shut before he could, turning.
They said nothing else as they stumbled from the water. But on the walk back, once Xiao's house was in sight, Venti turned to him.
"May I say something?" he asked.
"Are you often inclined to ask such a thing?"
Venti laughed. He bumped his wings against Xiao's.
"Your eyes are the color of sweetflowers." He winked. "And your lips taste just as sweet."
Venti turned and skipped ahead of him, which was just as well, because Xiao felt his face flush with color, his wings fluttering behind him, thoroughly flustered.
One day before Venti was set to leave, Xiao made a decision. It was a different decision than he was used to making.
Instead of heading for the river in the morning, he instead went to the veranda, stepped off the ledge, and walked the garden paths below.
He paced slowly, mind racing rather than feet. He thought of the times he and Venti spent together after they first met. How Venti, curious about the finch he'd rescued, had brought him flowers from Mondstadt and pebbles from brooks he passed to reach the Bishui Plains. The first time Venti sang for him, it was on a quiet night one year after the war had ended, when the meadow was aglow with fireflies, and it was just the two of them under the stars.
He'd thought his voice was beautiful. And then Venti had turned and smiled at him, cheeks rosy and flickering among the firefly's, and Xiao learned then and there the ache of longing.
So he'd shown Venti the paths he took to the riverside, and sliced apples himself by the meadow and thought of Venti as he did. For four more years, he longed quietly, happy to call himself Venti's friend. He planted cecilia flowers in his garden to show him next spring.
By then, it was too late.
Rain, falling hard against the veranda. Xiao, eyes wide and surprised. And Venti, always brave, always good with his words, stumbling over them as he spoke.
"I know you'll find it strange. I know you find me very different from you. But I am entirely and ardently in love with you. I have been ever since I found you."
It was what Xiao had longed to hear. Had dreamed of. But there was something like hope glittering in Venti's eyes. A hope for a love just like his own. And as he waited, Xiao realized with a heavy heart that his love was not the same.
"I cannot accept that," Xiao whispered.
"Cannot," Venti asked, "or will not?"
Xiao closed his eyes. Tried to soften the blow. "You have no surviving kin. You are the sole heir to Mondstadt's throne."
"A throne I shall never sit upon and have no love for. Xiao, please, do not hide behind excuses. If you wish it, I will go, and never come back."
"They are not excuses." Xiao stepped back, desperate to be away from the sadness catching in Venti's eyes, until he nearly slipped off the veranda. Venti darted forward, catching him. For a moment, they both stayed still, staring and longing and holding.
Then thunder clapped, and Xiao pushed Venti away.
"You deserve a gentle love," he said. "I cannot give that to you."
"Enough, Xiao." Venti's voice was soft. "I understand. I will speak to Morax, and then… Then I will leave."
Xiao did not protest. Not when Venti pulled his cloak from his shoulders and tucked it over Xiao's; not even when Venti turned and fled back into the house. Cheeks flushed, Xiao turned and stepped out into the rain, letting it wash over him, soaking his clothes. Soaking Venti's cloak.
Xiao loved Venti. But his love was not gentle.
In every disposition, there was a tendency towards something dark. In this, Xiao was no different: he had trouble making friends, his temper was short, and his words were nearly always as clipped as his wings. Every person had their flaws. He had yet to meet someone without. And every person's disposition, without fail, held some sort of darkness within it.
Every one — except Venti. Venti, who would give his crown for his people to taste freedom for themselves. Venti, who sang when he picked apples and whose wings ruffled when he laughed. Venti, who was wind in an open field, stars on a cloudy night, glowing cheeks and soft hands.
Xiao could not allow his own tendencies — the lonely heart, the war-stained hands — to hurt the one he loved. This was all he could do to protect him. And Xiao was born to protect those he loved. He should have no regrets.
Yet even still, the rain hid the tears that fell from his eyes.
Five springs came and went. Five springs, and Xiao had only yearned more for Venti with each passing season. But he'd shunned Venti's affections; and Venti had not reached out to him since. It was done. Xiao would learn to be content with his flowers and his solitude. He had the memories to hold fast to.
But now, he realized, he was not the only one doing so. That Venti, against all odds, felt the same, after five years apart. Five years to recognize all that darkness in Xiao, to reconcile with it and turn away from it.
And still, Venti wanted him. And still, Xiao wanted Venti.
The door to the veranda slid open. Xiao tensed, but then took a deep breath and relaxed his frame. He continued to pace, until he reached the part of the garden overgrown with cecilias.
There, he waited. Waited until Venti found him, stepping up beside him.
"You kept it." Venti's voice was still warbly from sleep. "This whole time."
Xiao let his own fingers trace along the fringes of the cloak wrapped around him.
"It gets cold in the mornings," he said. "And you told me green suited me, once."
Venti laughed, a sound more beautiful than any song.
Xiao turned to face him.
Venti stood, his day clothes pulled on halfhazardly, but he met Xiao's gaze unflinchingly.
"Good morning," Venti said.
"Good morning," Xiao replied. Waited. And when Venti said nothing else, Xiao stepped into the cecilias. Some crushed under the weight of his shoes.
"Xiao," Venti spoke at last. "My feelings are unchanged. Should you…" He shook his head. "Should you still feel the same, after five years, I will go, and I will never speak of it again. But if, by some miracle, your affections have changed at all, then…"
His words trailed off. Xiao remained turned away from him, but when Venti fell into silence, he looked over his shoulder.
Wordlessly, he stretched his wings out behind him. Venti watched, breath catching.
And wordlessly, Xiao closed his eyes, and began to dance.
Feathers splayed out like curtains above him, he twirled. He dipped and spun. His wings danced with him, feathers swaying as he moved. Xiao hummed. His voice was rough, sharp where Venti's was smooth, wavering where Venti's would hold true, but it was his. He hummed the tune Venti sang to him in the meadow. He danced until the tune was done, and then, breathless, he turned.
Venti watched him with wide eyes that raked over him. His mouth opened, but then closed. Opened, and closed again. He shook his head, lips pulling upwards at the sides.
"Am I mistaken," Venti wondered, "or was that a nesting dance?" He stepped forward, right into the cecilias alongside Xiao. "Have you any idea what you've just proposed?"
"Several ideas, in fact." Venti reached for Xiao, and Xiao did not flee from his touch. He stepped into his embrace. "I do not show affection gently. This is the only way I know how."
Venti laughed, breath fanning against Xiao's skin.
"Marry me," Venti whispered. Xiao wrapped his arms around Venti, holding him close. Venti pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. It pulled a sweet sigh from Xiao's lips.
"If you will have me," Xiao replied. "After all the hurt I've caused you."
"Have you?" Venti pulled back, eyes bright, smile broad. His hands cupped Xiao's cheeks. "I am afraid you do not grasp the depths of this affliction you cast upon me. No, Xiao, I will not have you. You are not mine. But even so, if you will allow it, I would cherish you." He leaned in and kissed Xiao, and it was soft and sweet, and drew a soft moan from his lips. "As the flowers wait for the sun's rays each morning. As the plains part for the river's carving path."
"That's unfair." Xiao reached up and placed a hand on Venti's cheek; Venti leaned into the touch. "What can I say to all of that? I am neither bard nor poet."
"You've found a way without words," Venti said. His hands dropped and tugged on the collar of his green cloak, sitting against Xiao's shoulders. It made Xiao gasp, and Venti's pupils blew wide at the sound. "And what are words, compared to those things that truly move the heart?"
"I love you," Xiao said anyways.
Venti pulled him in for another kiss.