Chapter Text
Your memories of Mondstadt were not fond, but they had to be faced one way or another.
It was a pleasant nation with soft breezes and the scent of dandelions mingling with wine clinging to every market street, whose people bustled and thrived within the cobblestone establishment and livened it considerably. All things considered, the city honouring the Anemo Archon should have fond memories; but when you first came here, these little details had not quite caught in your frazzled and youthful mind and were instead consumed by the bitterness of why you’d been there in the first place.
It did not matter now, you supposed. You stood at the gates of freedom not because you’d been abandoned by your mother; rather, this time you were in the search for ingredients.
You tightened your grip on the straps of your hefty backpack, worn with years of travel over various nations, and stepped into the cobbled maze of liveliness, giving your most cordial and practised smiles to the people you passed. It had been so long since you’d been here that most people have likely forgotten your face. Mondstadt faced many visitors from far and wide, and surely the few who would bother to remember you would not recall you when the passage of time had changed you enough to be considered a different person.
The sun peeked out of the clouds to give a pleasant warmth to the late morning as you strolled past vendors of markets, a florist of sorts, the autonomous lady standing patiently at the Adventurer’s Guild (you’d made acquaintances with her in Fontaine. She’d wanted to offer you a place in the Guild, which you forced yourself to decline). It was a pleasant city, all in all—part of you wished to bask in it and replace old memories with the new, more amicable ideas that sprang to mind.
But you were here strictly on business.
The bustle and soft music that swayed the air of the town seemed to drown out as you glanced around, curious eyes flickering from booth to booth. It will be fine, you’d reasoned to yourself on the way here. A repetitive mantra, alongside a list of contingencies packed within one of your field journals. You’d been planning a trip back for longer than you’d like to admit, agonising over every last detail in the hopes that nothing would spiral out of control.
Your steps were determined and decisive as your finally found your way to the correct merchant and immediately approached for conversation.
“None left in stock?”
It’s always a struggle to be courteous when you run into a rather big roadblock, but you’d been patient all your life so it was not too hard to keep your tone soft. The merchant, whose name you’d forgotten already, gave a sympathetic shake of his head, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m very sorry, Miss. That special strain of Cecilia is highly precious and usually sells out fairly quickly. But, ah—” He glanced down, to the main square of the town where most shops resided. “I think that our alchemy stand may have some.”
Oh.
There’s always a catch.
You tried your best to maintain your neutral and even pleasant expression, but the twitch of your lips forcing themselves into their usual frown and the way your brow furrowed likely gave you away. Within you, you felt your pulse rise. You weren’t quite sure you heard yourself speaking when you dully responded, “Oh, I see.”
“I could direct you there on my behalf—”
“No need,” you shook your head, forcing a small but hopefully reassuring smile onto your lips. “I—I’ve been there before, I’ll be alright.”
“Oh, okay, then,” the merchant nodded, though his eyes held a slight sheen of curiosity to them. Likely a long-time local, assessing you to see whether he could possibly recognise you. “Then, I hope you find what you need.”
You left with a small thanks and went on your way, trying to still the thrum of blood soaring through your veins. Dread , you believe you penned this sensation as.
One of your field journals held a categorisation for every emotion you’d ever felt. The feeling, its meaning, sources, sensation, everything. Originally, these descriptions were intended for someone else, but as it went, they helped you with the ultimate feat of humanity—restraint.
You swallowed heavily, contemplating your options while coming to a slowing halt in front of one of Mondstadt’s many fountains. You’d been searching for this special breed of Cecilia for a while, knowing it was a Mondstadt local specialty that advanced magical prowess greatly. So, what would it be—go a few steps to the alchemy stand for a head-first dive into your past memories of Mond, or off into the wild where you would painstakingly cultivate it yourself?
… Into the wild. You had no reservations about your decision-making process.
“Oh, Miss?” You turned to see the merchant from a few moments approaching you, jogging from his little booth. A little hum escaped your throat. “Just so you know, you may not be too lucky at the stand, either. The Chief Alchemist went on an expedition to Dragonspine last week, so only one of his assistants is currently there. I just—I just thought that you should be aware.”
This time, you did not have to force a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your knowledge.”
Perhaps the booth was worth checking out.
You remember when it was first established, right by Mondstadt General Goods. It was a small thing, but the shining centrepiece of it—a custom-made crafting table—drew attention to it fair and square to attract more people to what was within.
You shook your head, picking yourself up from where you’d been staring at the reflection in the fountain for too long. Maybe you could risk a visit again. As you stepped down the stone stairs of the city and made your way back into the town square, your dread seemed to dissipate with the atmosphere, and the corners of your lips twitched upwards for once. With a deep breath to calm yourself, you approached the stand just as a young man exited the door into the small laboratory hidden behind the booth.
“Ah, hi there,” the man burst into a bright grin, waving at you. “You must be interested in alchemy. Is there anything I can help you with?”
For some reason, the endearing nature of this man struck a chord within you, and you found yourself grinning back with the beginning twines of hope growing within. “I was wondering if you had a certain strain of Cecilia available as a sample.”
“A certain—wow, you sure know your stuff,” the man chuckles, before cocking his head back towards the door. “Why don’t you come on in? I’ll search our resources, but I can’t guarantee we have what you need. I’m sure if you waited for the head alchemist to come back—”
“That’s fine,” you cut him off, shaking your head rapidly. You fought the urge to fiddle with your hands to avoid looking even more nervous. “I’ll be happy to follow your advice.”
That seemed to butter the man up, as his grin grew more genuine by the moment. You followed past the oak door and into a bit more of a dim-looking room, your eyes adjusting to the lighting difference to see benches with notes, beakers, and all sorts of contraptions. Your throat grew a lump as you stared at all the devices, memories returning with the hint of chemicals brewing in the air and your eyes briefly glossing over. But you shook your head as you followed further in, to where the man stood at a set of shelves.
“I’m Timaeus, by the way,” he introduced himself as he began shuffling through the various shelves full of different glasses and jars. “You from around here?”
“Ah… no,” you shifted on your feet, trying to get a glimpse at the different labels on jars Timaeus had yet to check. “I’m a bit of a traveller.”
“Ah, very cool, very cool.” He continued searching and, after a few minutes, turned back to you. “I’m really sorry, Miss, but I don’t think we have any samples available right now. That strain is pretty niche and low-demand so that may have to do with it…”
“That’s okay,” you shook your head, biting back a twinge of disappointment while maintaining your professionalism.
“But!” Timaeus piped up. “I’m sure I can help you narrow down some areas where you could find some. Would that help?”
“Oh… yes, it would, actually.” Your hopes returned. Sure, you hadn’t struck luck in town, but this could certainly conserve time and see to it that you could get out of Mondstadt as quickly as possible with as few hitches in between as possible.
So you pulled out a crumpled map from your primary field journal and you two pored over it at a bench, Timaeus pointing out locations where Cecilias were more prone to grow and what kind of soil they preferred. While you knew the majority of what he was reciting to you, you decided to let the man talk, figuring that an indulgence of someone else’s alchemical knowledge every once in a while wouldn’t kill you.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he finished off as you packed your map away, to which you responded with a hum. “By the way, I forgot to ask what you need these for. What sort of experiment are you getting up to?”
“It’s… not really an experiment,” you explained, caution thrown to the wind. This man had proven himself to you as far from dangerous, or at least certainly not someone you should be worried about. “I’m a mage, actually. It’s for a spell.”
“Oh, a mage?” Timaeus’ eyes widened. “So you’re like Miss Alice!”
Your eyes widened and a chord struck in your chest, throat briefly drying up.
“Um… sure. Maybe.” You still vaguely remembered Alice, for the month that she was there to oversee your first visit to Mondstadt. A kind woman with mischief born in her eyes and passion sparking her every step; you knew that Alice was an elder of the Hexenzirkel just on the basis of her unbeatable magic prowess. But you also knew that Alice was an associate of your mother, and thus avoided all contact with the Hexenzirkel in the hopes of becoming your own type of mage.
“Well, that’s pretty neat,” Timaeus rambled as he guided you out of the shop. “I oughta introduce you to Klee or someth—oh, hey, Sucrose!”
You backtracked, then felt panic shoot up your spine at the realisation that you were in their workshop. You were trapped.
Sucrose. You’d heard of that name before, a few years ago. She was… an assistant, no? You’d never met her in person, but there was some doubt as to whether she knew who you were. Nonetheless, you were left with no time but to step out after Timaeus to join him where Sucrose had just arrived at the alchemy stand.
She was a sweet young girl; minty hair with ears tucked neatly under a cap, large eyes enhanced by the circular glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. Sucrose’s eyes skittered from Timaeus over to you, curiosity shining within them as well as a meekness that almost reminded you of yourself as she bowed.
“Oh—hello,” Sucrose gave you a pleasant smile, though tentative in its nature. You returned one of a similar nature, not trusting your voice at the moment.
“This mage and I were just wrapping up talking,” Timaeus chattered, “Apparently she’s looking for a really rare breed of Cecilia. What do you think?”
“W—that sounds quite interesting,” Sucrose affirmed, ears twitching at the sides of her head. “Did you help her map out where she can find some? Do you need a specific soil type? Did you—ah, my apologies, I got a little carried away there.”
“That’s alright,” you shook your head, placating the anxious girl. “Timaeus helped me out with everything.” Against better judgement, you added, “If I run into any obstacles, I’ll wander back into town and ask for your help.”
“Oh, we’d be happy to help,” she chimed, eyes lighting up with excitement. Then, she turned back to Timaeus with a jolt, as if suddenly remembering why she’d come to the booth in the first place. “By the way, have you seen Mr. Albedo around? Amber said she saw him earlier and—”
For a moment, white noise engulfed your auditory nerves.
It was just a brief flash, but it was enough for your limbs to feel like they’d been dunked into ice water and suddenly your heart was stuttering in your chest. You were sure you felt your face flush when you quickly stammered out, “I—I’m really sorry, but I—I just remembered that I’d forgotten to do something—”
“I can’t say I’ve seen him yet, no,” Timaeus commented, before glancing at you. “Oh, you’re leaving? That’s a shame. I’m sure Mr. Albedo would’ve loved to meet you.”
Sucrose hummed. “Perhaps if you wait, you can—”
“No, no—no, wouldn’t want to waste everyone’s time,” your voice felt a little more breathy than you were accustomed to, but you could attribute that to the way your windpipe tightened with more fear running through your body. You added a small laugh you hoped didn’t sound too disingenuous as you began dancing to the doorway. “Well, it’s been great seeing you all—”
Only for your back to collide with someone’s chest, a hand momentarily coming out to sturdy you before you jumped away and immediately regretted your decision.
His eyes widened, obviously surprised by the sight before him, with his lips parting almost as if he’d suddenly lost the air inside his lungs. Posture rigid, you could only mirror him in what you believed would likely appear to be a deer spooked by a thunderstorm. Your thoughts suddenly all disappeared into a thin void, before surging over you like a great tidal wave that came in with a rush of blood through your ears—
“Oh, Mr. Albedo, you’re back!” Sucrose’s voice sounded distant from you, chipper as ever. “We were just talking about you, heh. Would you be able to spare me some time on a hypothesis I’d just developed—?”
Suddenly remembering where you were, you tried to move your leaden tongue while rapidly shaking your head, stepping to the side while your voice stuttered to life like a faulty gas-lamp. “S—sorry. I—my bad. I’ll just—”
Before you had the chance, he swiftly grabbed a hold of your wrist, but his expression had yet to fully register the shock. His eyes wide and curious as they seemed to flicker over every detail, from the way you’d done your hair to the intricate patterns of your overcoat and bag. The constricting hold against your wrist, unnaturally cold, only served to freeze your heart inside its ribcage, and for a moment you just awkwardly stared at him.
“Do you two… know each other?”
“I, uh,” you huffed out, trying your best to force a smile on your lips. “Y—you guys probably don’t remember me. I was here a few years ago—”
When you tried to shift away, his grip on your wrist only tightened, to the extent where for a split second, you could’ve sworn it was trying to break . Your lips stayed parted mid-sentence, brain short-circuiting with fear as tension rose into the air.
A glimmer of recognition shot through Sucrose’s amber eyes. She half-stammered your name, but an enthusiastic smile was on her face nonetheless. “Wow, I—I barely recognised you there. S—sorry about that! It’s good to see you again.”
“... What are you doing here?” When he uttered your name, you felt your throat go dry. His voice was still soft, still quiet and soothing as you remembered it. “Where have you been?”
“I—I was looking for some materials,” you quickly choked out, shifting your weight from one foot to the other while rapidly nodding—whether to reassure him or yourself, you didn’t know. You couldn’t look at him again—not when he had the expression he had, and you felt your heart clenching so dramatically inside your chest like it was trying to create a black hole in your sternum. “But, ah, your assistants pointed me in the right direction. Since, uh, you were out…”
He blinked slowly, the silence following filled with tension. Then, “I got back early.”
“... Right.”
Timaeus, bless his soul, seemed to be more adept at reading social cues, as he awkwardly stepped in and grinned reassuringly at you. “Well, it was really nice to see you back in Mondstadt. You can always come back to the alchemy stand if need be—”
“That’s—thank you,” your insides felt like they’d been dropped inside a frozen tundra, mind screaming at you to wriggle out of Albedo’s grasp as soon as physically possible lest he actually snap your wrist. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll just leave you guys to do whatever it is you were doing. Um, something about a hypothesis?” You pointed at Sucrose, to which the girl nodded. “Cool, that’s cool. I’ll be on my—”
“You’re leaving already?” His tone sounded light, like he was discussing a matter no heavier than the weather today, but with the way his head tilted and his eyes subtly narrowed, you knew you were treading on thin ice. Something within his tone had a darker undertone, almost demanding in its nature with how scrutinised you suddenly felt.
“I—alchemy has never really been my strong suit,” you chuckled, but it felt like you were gargling sandpaper. “You’d remember, right? I’d hate to interrupt your work—”
“Will you be staying in Mondstadt for a while?”
“I—” You blinked, both perplexed and cautious. Truthfully, your intention was to make the most of a night in civilisation, so that tomorrow you could spend the day harvesting the Cecilias you needed before you likely trekked back to Fontaine or anywhere but here. With a low breath, you explained, “Just for a night…”
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
Oh, no, no, no. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid. Were it up to you, you’d hole up in the inn from early dusk and leave narrowly before dawn, hightailing it out of the City of Freedom to evade any sort of interaction with the Kreideprinz. Seeing him only resurfaced painful memories, and most of all a heavy anxiety you’d been carrying for as long as you could recall.
Your voice sounded weaker than ever when you replied, “I—I’m not sure yet—”
“That sounds unlikely,” Albedo’s voice was gentle, soft as always, but something within it grated on you. Accusatory . “Surely, Nibel* is organised enough to arrange an expedition for herself?”
That hit a nerve.
Whereas Albedo referred to your mother as Master, granted she’d created him and taught him most of what he’d ever known, your nickname had always been Nibel. From a highly old tongue, you recalled it meaning something along the lines of cloud or fog —fitting, considering you always faded into obscurity into the background while Albedo was treated as the miracle of life next to a simple human like you.
The fact that he’d remember the name—and even use it, for that matter—was a transgression you’d have to bite your tongue to just let slide this once.
You smiled in a way that felt more like a grimace to your facial muscles, before easing your wrist out of his grasp. By now, he let you go—it seemed that the message he wanted to convey had been reached, and he was satisfied with letting go. “Guess I’m not so organised at the moment,” you mused, before taking another step back—another increment of distance between you and Albedo. “My sincerest apologies. I’ll probably head in to figure it out.”
Part of you wondered whether you should stay, just as a silent form of apology to Albedo. A way to console him after being the second person in his life to leave him. But then you thought better of it, steeling your nerves as you waved your goodbye to the alchemy booth and began weaving your way through the streets of Mondstadt.
One left turn, one right, many lefts, a few aimless strolls. You knew his eyes would be on you for a while—you couldn’t afford him knowing the exact whereabouts of your stay, anything that would bring him to you. You took these precautions out of paranoia and the dread that was now settling at the base of your lungs much like rocks settled at the bottom of a very deep pond. Eventually, when you were certain you may have dropped his gaze, you ducked into the back door of the inn, where you checked in.
And only when you were in the comfort of your locked room did you notice how your hands trembled and you felt as if you were trapped on a thin wire hanging over a dark, looming abyss.
Your memories flashed periodically, brows furrowing as you attempted to pin down the discrepancy in your mind. You’d expected anxiety, that much was certain—you hadn’t wanted to run into Albedo at all , but those plans were stomped out by his presence just then.
An expedition to Dragonspine last week…
Amber said she saw him earlier…
When you came to your moment of peripeteia, there was no dramatic dropping of what you were holding or the sound of glass shattering. It was silent and comfortable in the inn’s room, with the sound of birds chirping outside the window. To you, it may as well have been a wasteland outdoors—with the way your shoulders, your entire body, suddenly trembled and heaved with a struggle to get oxygen into your system, with the way your vision blurred and the blood rushed and rushed through your ears, with the way it felt like you had suddenly plunged into an irreversible darkness, the world could have collapsed and you would not have perceived the sound of glass shattering nor the crumbling of reality around you.
Your memory caught up to you. The discrepancy was picked out, so easily you could’ve sworn it was like you’d never left Mondstadt in the first place.
Albedo’s birthmark was missing.
Fear was a primal, nasty thing, unavoidable in human biology.
Primarily, it was only activated rationally—realising there was an imminent threat within your vicinity. Of course, you’d suffered from irrational fears all your life—whether it be looking over your shoulder twice in the hopes of seeing your mother or her creation behind you or whether what you were doing would amount to any purpose in life, fear could often make you lose your own rationality. Ironically, these two were the most common fears.
The third fear was evolutionary, and it was primal fear.
The fear of predators was a survival instinct carved into the amygdala from inherited genetics. Primal fear relied on instinct, recognising a threat to human survival, and it was the ugliest of all in your eyes. Driven only by primal recognition of fear caused more than irrational lapses in judgement, and it could go as far as shutting your body down or sending you into overdrive. Primal fear was what gripped at your chest as you stumbled out of the city gates, bag and catalyst in tow as you awkwardly stumbled through goodbyes to the guards who questioned your sudden up-and-going. This came after ducking through Mondstadt’s streets in the desperate attempt to avoid any further run-ins with him, which you weren’t certain truly worked when it felt like your skin was crawling and your heart was clenching without a rhythm. But you had no time to trace your steps and meticulously plan out your next movements—you had a destination in mind, and it was not a pleasant one.
You’d been to Dragonspine before. Your mother referred to it as Sal Vindagnyr when exploring it, but it mattered little to you—it was arid and cold, and also happened to hold the corpse of one of your mother’s corrupted creations. Not that you’d ever felt particularly drawn to the dragon in the snow or its remnants, but considering you’d been there for both its birth and heard of its death shortly after your mother took you away from home, you figured it was a relevant place to commence your investigation—
Screw that. You were frantically running to Dragonspine under the guise of an investigation, when all you needed to do was check the pulsating core of poison stuck under a decaying ribcage fused with mountainous rock and confirm your worst fear hadn’t come to life. There was nothing speculative about your work. There was only the fear and paranoia and trembling of your steps as you ignored the green scenery dotted with flowers, growing more overcast the further you scraped your way through rocky paths.
The air got thinner and colder the further you went up, and eventually even the grass stopped shining green. What crunched beneath your boots now was dying grass, poisoned by the punishing force of the Skyfrost Nail transforming Durin’s resting place into the wintery hellscape it was.
You should’ve seen this coming from a mile ago. From the moment the aquamarine blue of his eyes lost a certain spark necessary for the homunculus to the way his head tilted so arrogantly and his tone took on that certain cutting edge, you should’ve recognised the star was gone and so was the sign of his presence as an artificial being. Not that you doubted Albedo’s ability to conceal a mark like that—but in the years you’d known him, taught him, resented him and the attention your mother gave him despite the imperfection, he’d never felt the need to hide it.
An imperfection is what makes me human, he’d once reasoned to you, as the topic of perfection pursued by his master graced the campfire. Is it not?
You dared not consider Albedo redeemable in your eyes to consider that he would hold himself by such an old principle—but you also doubted that he would truly wish to conceal a mark granted to him by the gift of life.
Your legs burned and your lungs ached, but no sensation compared to the flurry of fear clouding your mind, obscuring all rational thought in a thick and dense fog comparable to the snowy dust of Dragonspine. Cold seeped through your thick coat and brushed against your legs where your boots no longer reached, snow as deep as your knees surrounding the path you awkwardly stumbled and scrambled against. Yet despite the excruciating physical pain of your pursuit, you knew you could not let up now. Any second lost to Albedo was a second you would never gain back and never afford again.
Could you justify it in your mind? Perhaps you saw him wrong. Perhaps the mark was there, it was just a trick of the light. Perhaps Albedo was still in Mondstadt, still pondering your return, and maybe he was just waiting for a moment to come find you and demand answers—
You didn’t realise you tripped until you collided with harsh rock and tumbled into the cavern below, scraping the cold skin of your palms against jagged dark rocks and cursing quietly as you slowed to a roll. Shaking the sensation of dizziness from your vision, you glanced up—only for your eyes to widen at the hue of magenta consuming every corner of the cave, shining and pulsating brightly before your eyes.
Before another thought could cross your mind, you swallowed thickly, trying to shake the feeling of cold dread creeping up your spine alongside the aches in your body from where you landed. “Please,” you whispered, though you weren’t quite sure to whom you were begging. With hesitant movements, you crawled forward, activating the innermost energy within you and pressing down firmly on the rock that had encased the festering heart before you.
A falling sensation encompassed you, a clear indicator of the components of Khemia coursing through you at the contact with Durin’s heart. You felt your brows furrowing as you searched, carving through deep snow and rock and decaying bone until you felt your target hone itself in the centre of Durin, buried deep under fallen debris.
And just as quickly as you made contact, you drew back with a strangled gasp and a scramble.
No. Please, no.
Those were thoughts you’d have if a single coherent thought could be formed in your mind in that moment. What instead filled you was white noise, vision blurring with either tears of more nausea threatening to turn your insides into liquid. You stared and you stared, yet to no avail—you already knew the truth.
You did not meet Albedo.
One breath—and then you slowly shut your eyes with a shaky exhale. Whether or not it was wise to curse your own mother, you still let a quiet whisper of a swear into the cold air with a promise of swift vengeance should you track her down one day. After all, who else could this point to? It was not your intelligence and decisions that led to this set of events—it was the circumstances your mother orchestrated, and was now conveniently absent for so she couldn’t reap the consequences of her inhumane choices.
You had never liked holding the Rhinedottir name, throwing away its status as soon as you could and travelling only with your first name. After all, there was no telling who in the world was educated, and educated people knew of the Great Sinner and the calamity she’d wrought upon the soil you sat on. And even if your mother hadn’t caused basically one of the most historical cataclysms recorded within Teyvat’s modern history, you would not have flinched nor hesitated to discard the name that did not belong to you.
Rhinedottir. Your famous mother, notorious for the nurture of Khemia and the downfall of your home. She was as ruthless as described, and even more so to her creations. You learned to resent her far sooner than your previous companion did, and even then you doubted Albedo would ever compare to the sheer loneliness you felt within your soul when you thought of your own mother abandoning you. Truly, a master of erudition, and possibly the best purveyor of cruelty.
You’d witnessed one of her acts of cruelty firsthand. One of the countless subjects she’d created—all the homunculi, only one to be crowned with the name belonging to one of Khemia’s magnum opera—was under your supervision, but found to be irrational. Unable to remain stable and integrate as what could be considered a functional human being, you were forced to watch Humus—who was known as Durin in his dying breaths—consume a boy made of chalk who had barely started living.
How does one react to such a sight? You still pondered your memory. You may have responded with tears, but they were swallowed by the harsh words of your mother who claimed there was no need to spare emotion to the fleeting life of a test subject. You hardened your visage, and you likely reacted detached to the following deaths you witnessed your mother commit to.
Durin was meant to hold one of her creations within the lining of his stomach, destroyed and archived for the rest of a cold eternity.
He was no longer there.
You let out yet another shaky breath, painstakingly clawing your way into a standing position. There was no use dwelling here, or even on the matter—the reality was that, to fight this beast, you would have to use your mother’s brain, the knowledge and skill she forced within you from youth. Unbecoming as it was, Rhinedottir was still brilliant and expected brilliance—and you simply had to hope that brilliance would help you survive whatever it was that roamed out there.
Given that you’d intercepted the Albedo that tore his way out of Durin—the missing birthmark was the first and foremost indicator that it was, aside from the subtlest shift of personality—you had to account that he was not hostile enough to harm you in the public eye. Then again, you did not know if his plans even involved harming you. From the look in his eye, you could even gather that you were an unexpected variable, a return to Mondstadt that may just cause more problems than solutions.
If you were an abandoned experiment left to die inside a corrupted dragon, what would you wish to do?
You scoffed, turning away from the crimson gleam of the heart.
Kill Rhinedottir, of course.
But Gold was long gone, far away from Mondstadt and even the traceable borders of Tevyat, maybe. You’d have to be mad to pursue her to the ends of the earth, and while you held little doubts that this Albedo—it would be like your mother to call him the faulty one, for that’s what he ultimately was—was capable of such a feat, it would mean you wouldn’t find him in Mondstadt in the first place. So what then? Who else could he exact revenge upon? Why integrate into society under the guide of taking up his replacement’s role—
Oh. So that was how it was.
Of course. It made sense. Why strike at the creator when he can first strike at the closest cause of his abandonment—the real Albedo. When you thought of it that way, it made so much sense for him to stay here, to hold a guise of being the true Chief Alchemist, to begin thinking of ways to become the only Chief Alchemist.
It made so much sense to you because you knew those feelings; you’d felt them before.
That bitter, bitter seed of jealousy, the one that lodged in your throat and choked your tongue and filled you with a simmering rage when all you could think was why not me.
With your knowledge finalised and your plan beginning to stand on shaky legs, you trudged out of the cavern where the dragon’s heart rested, drawing further away from the uncomfortable heat into the unbearable cold.
“I’m surprised you figured it out so quickly.”
You had no time to assess as you spun around, catalyst raised and eyes lighting up with dangerous magic. But you knew in that moment that he let you do that—he was too fast for his own good, too inhuman for you to appraise like a normal combatant. With the way he leaned against frost-bitten rock, the picture of nonchalance and arrogance, you were acutely aware that every moment spent in his sight was a moment you were in imminent danger.
“Like mother, like daughter, I suppose,” he hummed, pushing off the wall with a boot, the quiet thump aligning with the racing of your heart in your ribcage. You felt like you’d been frozen in place, grounded by the ancient Irminsul roots you once explored without abandon. Yet despite that, you felt like you couldn’t move as he gradually approached, turquoise eyes flat but calculating as they roamed over you. “As much as you degrade yourself, there must be some life within that head of yours.”
Your jaw clenched instinctively, though it was hard to decipher whether it was out of fear or anger.
This time, it was blatant. No star on his throat, the cold and almost static air around him.
“What gave it away?” He asked, tone genuinely curious. “I’m only asking for future reference. Not many are as perceptive as you, but it’s better to refine in the early stages.”
You didn’t know if you could trust yourself to speak. At the sight of you, stiff with fear and unmoving, he let out a low scoff.
“I didn’t know you were also such a coward.” He hummed, taking yet another step forward. You wished you could feel your legs, will them to move or step backwards so that you could at least maintain some distance. “Though, maybe you watching as I was eaten alive should have indicated as much.”
“The star,” you muttered, lips tingling and eyes casting into the snow. Despite how quiet and frail your voice sounded to your own ears, you knew he’d heard you. You knew because the moment of recognition was one you wished you could erase from your memory.
“Mm. Of course.” He stepped forward, and he was only one step from being directly in your line of sight despite your gaze pointedly avoiding him. “The star. Tell me, were you close enough to him to determine that as your cohesive pattern of reasoning?”
You didn’t speak. You didn’t even know if you could speak. Dread had settled like a crushing weight on your chest, breaths coming in short, harsh pants that finally accepted that you’d run all the way to Dragonspine like a madman only for the real chase to just begin. But in the brief moment the question flickered through your mind, there was something inside your chest that let out a sting, and you swallowed the wince that came with it.
It was enough for him to latch on. “No. Of course not.” He took another step, and now his boots were in your view. Puffs of air as he spoke billowed near your face, but the artificial breath held no warmth nor comfort to it. Tone haughty as he said, “You hated all of us. You never said so, but I saw that look in your eyes.”
“That’s not true,” you whispered, voice hoarse and thin. The air around you grew colder with each breath, even in close proximity to him. “I hated what my mother did to you. I… I hated—”
“Lying won’t bring you closer to mercy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he interrupted. His voice was still soft, but firm and cold in its decisiveness—just like Gold. There were times where you thought he’d inherited more from Gold than you ever did, but to think it reached through every single one of her creations… “You hated us. You hated the sight of something that took your Master’s humanity away, didn’t you?”
When did the change occur? You couldn’t remember. Somewhere along the line, it was no longer Mother and Rhinedottir—it was just Master or Gold. After all, she was the magnum opus of Khemia, and should be referred to as such by her disciples. He hadn’t lived for long enough to see that change fester, did he?
There were so many tests. So many subjects created. So many failures, so many deaths mid-creation, so many deaths post-creation. All jotted as inconsequential details in your mother’s field journal. Your childhood memories held a scrap of them all. But would they be able to determine which number he’d held in the test slots?
“Do you think your mother blames you?” He finally asked after a long silence, tone still soft but so malicious in its contents. “Maybe if you were a better assistant, a better creation, she would not have faced failure as many times as she did.”
Your chest grew tight and heavy. Your fingers trembled, light cracking and seeping through the miniscule tendons running through every limb. Your control waned, but it waned only with the increase of primal fear within your system.
“Maybe that’s why she abandoned you,” he continued, tone matter-of-factly, “Because she did abandon you in the end, didn’t she? After both you and her new toy failed her. Take it from me, she doesn’t take failure lightly.”
“What… what do you want from me,” you heaved out, fighting the sting of frustrated tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your insides were searing, freezing over with the cold of Dragonspine and the loneliness gripping at the edges of your sanity. So many years alone, abandoned by your own mother . No matter what you did, she would never see it like that—she would simply see it as a master discarding their failed test subjects, even when one was brought to the world by the hand of her art and the other by the miracle of organic birth. So what, pray tell, could this failed specimen possibly want from the other failed specimen?
“I want many things,” he breathed out, moving closer. A gloved hand found purchase underneath your chin, and against your will you found your head tilting up. “My time alone helped me discover that I’m a selfish man. So for one, I want Subject One dead.” Porcelain skin, as flawless as the day it was made when the project surpassed the initial phases of organ creation. “Then I want my creator dead.” Eyes so perfectly turquoise, patterned with the most intricate basics of alchemy and no real life held behind them. “And then… I want you to suffer.”
You felt your lower lip tremble, even when your jaw was held in a vice grip. You knew you were on the verge of tears without registering a single sensation, a single whimper of, “Why me?” Escaping your constricting throat.
“Because you understand me,” he said, grip on your chin briefly softening. He sounded so earnest, but so detached from the reality of the matter. Bitterness seeped into his tone with every next word. “You understand being so… alone in this world. And for that, I want you to feel the struggle of survival one last time before I kill the remaining poison Gold has spread.”
“That’s bullshit,” you hissed out, but your voice had far less bite than you’d like it to. “I’m not my mother. You just want to fill a void inside you that can never be filled.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, head tilting to the side with an invite of danger. “I feel that if I kill you all, the void will be at least a little less empty. Wouldn’t you agree? You’ve thought about it, after all.”
The way he said it decided there was no room to debate him. And even then, you couldn’t. Countless times had you zoned out to the thought of ending it—whether it be your mother when your rage could no longer be expressed in words, or Albedo when your resentment festered into a special type of destruction. Hell, you’d almost done it the day you left Mondstadt—but the heartbreak had overtaken your senses, and you found yourself fleeing before you could perform an act so irreversible and decisive as taking the life of a creation you’d nurtured and cared for when your mother had abandoned him.
In a last-ditch attempt to strike a nerve, you found your footing again. “Do what you may, but that void will never wane,” you jerked your head out of his grip, stumbling back until you found solid ground. “There’s a reason my mother discarded you. Because you couldn’t act human, because you’re sick in the head, because—”
You barely dodged when his sword slashed at the air you were once in, rolling to the side when the second slash tried to lodge into the snow beneath you. There was no time for shock as you sidestepped swipe after cruel swipe, only stepping away fast enough for the edge of the sharpened blade to nick you. The pain didn’t quite register even as you dove under his arm and tore his arm back, fighting against the blade.
In your time away, you’d learned to fight. Incapable in Khemia and otherwise subpar compared to Albedo’s swordsmanship, you trained in your own time. Could you take on someone like Albedo? You didn’t know. You could only hope that the primal burn of adrenaline inside you would help you see the dawn of the next day.
The single slip of the mind was enough for him to overpower you. You suffered a slice to the arm, only narrowly deflecting the blade thrusting to your chest with a small blast of Lux. another slash, and another, and you were on the defence with no blade to wield against someone who was programmed to handle a sword.
It was inevitable.
You staggered and got caught in his hold, his grip deliberately putting pressure on the open wound seeping blood into your overcoat. You let out a strangled groan, forced to your knee by the awkward position of him holding your arm behind your back. Panic rose inside your brain, but your body no longer obeyed—both in pain and the fear of the sheer power you’d seen exhibited.
Your throat felt dry. Your mind rushed.
Am I going to die?
Death was always a topic lingering on the back of your mind—having witnessed it so many times and being threatened by it in your existence, it became an inevitable option for you to process. Not that it could really be an option—you were human, and all human life returned to a state of death once existence reached its end. So you couldn’t certainly say you feared the prospect of death, even at the hands of a Primordial Albedo—
But you certainly feared that he was going to make you suffer. Because you were aware that he would orchestrate a fate worse than death.
“Have you said your piece?” He hissed behind you, leaning over your ear in a downright patronising way. “Have you struck the nerve you desired? Wishing for a quick death won’t work on me. I know how you think.”
Something felt off within you. Whether it was the constant influx of fear, you didn’t know—it only felt like an odd burning sensation, lighting up your veins and creating a whirlwind of indescribable emotion you could not pinpoint. It made your lip curl, brows furrowing in both pain and this new emotion. Heart hammering inside your chest, you numbly registered that your anxious state likely increased the chances of accelerated blood loss from your wound.
Your heart hammered and hammered, yet it felt like it was beating at the remaining wall of your conscience.
“I will make good on my promise, little Nibel.” His tone was haughty, confident in your suffering and eventual demise. He pressed down even harder, and this time all that you felt was the gritting of your teeth against the open sting in the freezing air. “I will make you suffer. I’ll kill your Master, I’ll kill your accomplice, and then I’ll draw out your lonely days until you’re begging for me to kill you.” A long sigh followed, in which your heart continued its perilous stammer inside your chest. “As much as it pains me to admit this, I missed you. The fervent loneliness in your eyes, the resentment . It makes me feel so… alive.”
Your shoulders trembled violently, even in the vice grip he had on you. It felt like your ribcage was caving in, groaning loudly within and collapsing on top of your lungs fighting for air. Your eyes were zeroed in on the snowy ground, vision dotting with stars and your hearing growing progressively more muffled.
“Didn’t you miss this?” You only vaguely registered how he moved closer to you, until his lips were only a hair’s breadth from your earlobe. “It’s… it’s been so long. I forgot that you once had life within you. I haven’t felt the touch of a real human in so long. A real human, not the cold husk you call your mother. I… I will enjoy tearing you apart.”
When you were younger, you discovered that emotion did not come so easily to you. It came from the cruel conditioning of your mother, who claimed that expressing emotions was futility in the face of undeniable and indestructible fact. Erudition only came from a calm state of mind, or a mind that refused to give in to the weaknesses of humanity. It was likely why she soon found a preference in her homunculi over you, a human child who was weak in the ability to experience the world in an entirely unique lens.
You’d recently discovered that this caused a certain detriment within you.
Your emotions—from years of swallowing them, from years of hiding them and bottling them—were now volatile, unable to be expressed with normal words.
And that is likely why Albedo didn’t see your attack coming.
It came with no scream—only the flare of gold within your eyes and then a force of elemental energy blasted him off your form and sent him soaring into a snowy bank. You were on your feet before you even felt the crunch of gravel beneath you, jaw locked rigid and eyes zeroing in on Albedo in a blind rage.
Red. The colour of your blood, the colour that humanity associated with anger and passion. It was the red that now adorned your vision and your arm and it mingled so divinely with the gold light sparking on your fingertips with the little restraint you still held.
Albedo staggered to his feet, but an open cut paved the way for a rivulet of red to glide down his forehead. An imperfection in a specimen thought to be perfect. He stared, then gingerly sampled the blood rolling past his brow. “And here I thought you were useless.”
The light sparked more dangerously, held only by the grasp of your humanity.
“Isn’t it ironic? The Great Sinner’s daughter, blessed with a primordial element not seen for aeons.” He let out a dry chuckle, hoarse but conniving in manner. “Yes, I think I understand now. You’re so… pathetic.”
As someone who had risen in the ranks as a mage, you doubted his words to be true.
Yet that did not stop you from striking again, this time the light so blinding it reflected off the dull snow and gave him no time to scream. You concentrated that energy, that sheer anger within you, until you had nothing left to give—and only then did the light fade out, to the rumble of the mountain having heard your silent rage.
Had you been younger and maybe more fickle, you would not have given into your emotions so directly. Hell, you would have likely cried at the being calling itself Albedo standing before you and calling you pathetic. But really, did it matter now?
He’d just been blown through the space-time continuum, and even the most perfect primordial being could not sustain a fraction of Celestia’s power that way.
Part of you wondered whether your mother knew that, whether it frustrated her. Part of you wanted to know what she’d say or do if she ever bothered to return, only to see her daughter harnessing a primordial element not meant for the mortal soul. Yet the majority of you knew that she would likely not care, and you didn’t want her opinion when it had become null and void for you so long ago.
Sighing deeply, you waved the spellbook acting as your catalyst out of sight, the pain of smaller cuts and the major slash in your left arm finally seeping into your system in the biting cold. You winced, glancing down to see the blood beginning to dry a dark crimson shade, silently lamenting the loss of a rather resourceful overcoat. Though it mattered not—you’d survived the worst of it, and now was your chance to get out of Dragonspine. This place gave you the creeps, anyway—
“Nibel?”
And the cold washed over you and submerged you in its depths, your hearing briefly consumed by a faint high-pitched noise in the back of your mind.
And when you looked up, there you saw him.
It was unmistakable this time—the shining teal, the star on his throat, every part of him seemed so distinct and individual that part of you wondered how you’d ever fallen for the imposter’s ruse. Ash blond hair blew in the bone-chilling winds of the valley, yet his eyes stayed trained on you.
The real Albedo felt human—scarily so.
Yet he’d used that nickname. Why did he use that nickname? What had he heard? He hadn’t used that name—nobody had—for so long now. He’d only used it a select few times, when—
Realisation seemed to wash over his features, lips pressing into a thin line. “You found it.”
“He’s gone.” You weren’t sure how you even managed to speak at that moment. The air felt suffocating, like smog was choking your windpipe and poisoning your mind. He tilted his head.
“It disappeared?”
“No.” You lowered your head, to the scorched marks of snow resting atop everfrozen soil. He’d just been there—you sensed him. You knew he didn’t disappear—you’d only finished the job your detached and erudite mother hadn’t thought to finish on her own. Or perhaps she did, but the human had died and left a husk of a person festering within the dragon’s heart. It didn’t matter now. “He’s gone.”
“You mean you—?” He cut himself off, but you didn’t dare look at him. What could you say? It wasn’t like it was a long or meaningful exchange. One disappointment expressing feelings to another disappointment. A simple transaction that caused you more fear than what you were worth. His plans of usurping his replacement’s spot perished alongside him, and left you with a void much like the one you’d ironically described. You heard the crunch of snow beneath his boots as he approached you. “It doesn’t matter. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” You lied through your teeth; the sting, alongside miniature cuts you hadn’t registered in the heat of your anger, was rather painful. You were only human, after all; cursed with immortality but none of the durability that would help you outlast your conditions. Instinctively, you shielded the injured arm from Albedo’s gaze, but it was too late—he was too close, just like the other, and had already gotten a hold of your wrist to extend your arm for inspection.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He stared at the wound intently, as if the shed of human blood would explain to him what it truly meant to be human. When he found no answers, he looked up at you. “Come with me to my laboratory. I’ll patch you up.”
“That’s fine,” you grit out, removing your arm from his grasp. You just about had enough of Albedo, even after years. Why wasn’t he shocked? Why did he seem so calm? Or maybe he had questions, but had yet to figure out a way to word them. But he shouldn’t take this in stride so easily. How could he? “I’ll be on my way now—”
Then he said your name.
His tone was firm, soft-spoken as always but with an edge you’d hardly heard from him before. It was the sort of voice your mother once used to reprimand you, and he’d likely picked it up from her. The thought made you cringe, but you quickly shook your head to settle your frayed nerves and swallow the fear hammering inside your lungs once more.
After this, you were certain to never return to Mondstadt. Hell, you’d go to the ends of the earth and not even mind seeing your mother again—as long as you were no longer around him, you’d go anywhere.
“I gather you’re smart enough to know that I have questions for you,” he said, his tone calm and collected as always; only you heard the undertone he delivered to you. Demanding, almost condescending. Always so condescending. “I’d prefer if we handled this with civility and you accept my help so we can talk.”
You felt the clench of your jaw as he spoke—as if you were some child to be looked down upon, some idiot who couldn’t handle anything with an air of grace the same way he held himself from the moment of his inception. Perhaps it was those remnants feelings of anger that led you to taking a step back with a decisive, “I have other plans. I’m sorry, Albedo, but I can’t stay.”
“Of course,” he muttered, but more in a derisive way than understanding. “Of course you can’t stay. You’ve only abandoned me for about three years.”
That was about half a month less than when Rhinedottir abandoned you two. You knew this because you’d counted the days, and could only bear the suffocating air of Mondstadt’s dandelion wine for six months before your mind broke and you left no trace of your existence in the City of Freedom. It was why people like Sucrose and Timaeus couldn’t possibly recognise you—only someone like Albedo would be able to see you and recognise your face after a lifetime of watching.
When he put it that way, those three years likely hurt. Perhaps if you were a better person, raised by better people, you would feel guilt for that.
As it stood, you swallowed that idea. “I’m still travelling. You told me I no longer have to take care of you, so—”
“So you up and left without a warning?” His tone took on a sharper edge, brow raised as he took another step forward. This time, you took a step back. “That’s… not helping your case. All it does is make you look like your mother, which I know you’re so against.”
Your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched, eyes glancing away to the singed patch of snow. He knew you too well. He’d spent the most time with you, gotten to know you unlike the primordial subject or any failure in between. He knew you hated Rhinedottir, and above all you hated being compared to her—especially when it was her conditioning that turned you into all the worst parts of her, only weaker and less capable.
“It… wasn’t like that,” you sighed out, taking yet another step back which was followed by his step forward. “I was—I was trapped in Mondstadt, there was nothing there for me—”
“That doesn’t change things,” he interrupted you once again, and by now the cold was genuinely hurting you and you were shivering from both the snow and fear. “You’re giving me all these excuses, yet none of them change the reality of the matter. You left me. You took from me, and now you come back three years later only to leave again and again.”
The longer he spoke, the more bitter his tone became. Distorted from the original image you had of Albedo, he was no longer the refined and princely individual you recognised him as—now, it was just cold, cold, cold, and you were left with nausea and guilt swirling inside your stomach and your eyes burning from the biting breeze tearing against your open wound.
“You had everything you could’ve ever wanted at your fingertips,” he spoke, his tone growing slightly softer when he reached out to you. Then his eyes darkened, and with a few quick steps, he’d grabbed a hold of your throat. “But you left it all behind because you’re selfish.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but this time it wasn’t just fear gripping you—it was a raw and genuine panic, an imminent threat of his gloved hand tightening against your windpipe, trying to adjust his grip in the most efficient way. Your eyes widened, and your hands shot up to grab at his forearm which stayed unmoving despite your squirming. “I—I’m sorry, y—you don’t understand—”
“Excuses.” His grip tightened, and this time, you lost the air in your lungs. “You’re such a hypocrite, Nibel. Following in Master’s footsteps when you hated her so much for what she did, becoming your own kind of monster. Did you think that the Primordial Subject attacked you out of nowhere? It knew what you really are.”
“That’s—that’s not—” You choked, scrambling even further as panic clouded your vision and brain. You vaguely registered losing your footing, the tips of your boots frantically scraping against kicked-up gravel and snow but gaining no ground against Albedo. Your eyes locked with his, pleading, but that was when you saw it.
“I would have never known you were here if it hadn’t held you up, would I?” His question bore into your very soul, currently toiling with rage and fear and guilt all at once. Your vision spotted, yet he didn’t let up. Perfect, unmoving chalk, always dominating over the inadequate and organic world. “Maybe in some way, he was a blessing in disguise. I… I spent so long searching for you… waiting for you… hell, I thought Gold would come back before you ever thought about it… even if just for a second…”
Suddenly, he slackened his grip entirely and you dropped, falling to your knees and coughing. Greedy gulps of air took you as you shook and coughed, tears blurring your vision and dropping to the ground as you fought for survival at his hands.
How could you have been so blind ? It wasn’t the Primordial Albedo who hated you. It was the real one, the one you’d always been so inferior to. At least the Primordial Subject sympathised with you and your shortcomings.
“For the longest time, I tried to understand your viewpoint.” He circled around you slowly, eerily, in a way to remind you that running was futile and so was any other form of resistance. Your scraped palms burned as you pressed them into the chill of the snow, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stand. “I tried to see what could possibly turn you into Rhinedottir. You’d—you’d always been so humane, tried to understand everyone else. But when it came down to it, that was the only thing you could do that I couldn’t.” When you glanced up, you saw the sharpness behind his eyes, genuine contempt and bitterness seeping into his gaze. “There is no justifying what you’ve done.”
Somewhere within that moment, you felt a pang in your chest. It was a visceral feeling, indescribable to a person unless they truly felt it. It was a sort of loneliness that consumed your body with grief and made the marrow inside your bones feel heavy, the sort that weighed down your lungs until they were grey and cracked your heart until the tendons snapped one by one. It was the sort where the tears came simply because there was no way to cease them, brought on by the truly horrible realisation that you were entirely alone and abandoned by any shred of hope or humanity inside your soul.
“But you already know that, don’t you?” He crouched before you, cooing mockingly as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his gloved finger. His expression held no sympathy; only a sort of flat malice that seemed to have resigned itself to chastising you for your selfishness, for abandoning him to a loving community and a dream job and a blessing of the Archons and everything in between. The thought alone made more tears pour from your eyes and drip on the snow below, throat tight and blocked by a lump that failed your own voice. Your head ached terribly, but you no longer knew if it was from the pain of crying before Albedo or because you’d almost been throttled to death after narrowly surviving a fight of your own. “You know that you’re a horrible person. I already know what you’re going to say—”
“I—I—” You hiccuped, mouth feeling numb to the sensation of your own emotions. “I’m sor—”
“You’re sorry?” He scoffed lightly, then raised himself to stand straight again. “No, you’re not. And even if you were, an apology is not what I’m here for.”
Your mind raced as you attempted to keep up with him. One advantage he had was he was so smart, so astute and erudite with his chalk-like being and the millions of thoughts that swarmed him. What hope did you have? You were only human, and in deep distress at that. You almost wanted to cry for your mother, but that thought only made the tears flow faster. Then, in a choked whimper, you whispered, “You knew I was fighting him.”
“I knew you’d returned from the moment you stepped foot on Dragonspine,” he confirmed, tone still soft. His expression seemed so flat now. Your shoulders shook, and you felt like you were on the verge of a mental break. “Granted, I had no way of guaranteeing your survival—”
“You were going to let me die,” you whispered, throat hoarse and body weak. Thoughts raced through your mind faster than you’d let yourself get carried into Dragonspine, walking right into his trap. Though, whether it was of Subject One or Subject Two—
“I would have likely intervened had there been a genuine threat to your existence,” he spoke, so detached to the matter he may as well have been reporting on a new species of flower he discovered. You stifled another wave of nausea, throat aching and body stinging and the beginning sparks of your grief transforming into rage inside you. “Nonetheless, he played his part perfectly. I had no need to seek you out if you walked right into my arms.”
You clenched your jaw at the confirmation of your disastrous thoughts. No point in hiding it if he was already reacting like this, you supposed.
“And what now?” You voiced your thoughts out loud, but they came out no louder than a hiss with the strain on your vocal chords. Your head tilted up. “What are you going to do to me now?”
“Well… I’d hate to spoil it all now.” He crossed his arms. “You’re a bit too sharp to be allowed to know the full picture at once. As for where you’ll start…” He knelt before you, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “... You can begin by making up for those years of leaving me behind. Staying by my side.”
Another pulse of panic shot through your blood. “Albedo, no ,” you attempted to scramble back, but your limbs felt so weak you didn’t get nearly far enough for him to get concerned about stopping you. “I—I can’t. I have—I have a life now, I have a purpose, I—I finally have something to live for—”
“And you’ll have all those things when you stay by my side,” he concluded, his tone the picture of rationality but his words only serving to condescend you further. You fought the feeling inside you, but all that you could feel was an unbearable loneliness, isolated in the cold depths of Dragonspine with someone who so openly resented you before you.
Why did he get to tell you this? Make you feel this way? You were so alone in the world. For the first time in centuries, you found a path, a purpose, in your life, growing more powerful as a mage rather than a practitioner of Khemia. You couldn’t say you were happy, but you’d grown out of your mother’s looming shadow and the expectations created by the ever-perfect achievements of Albedo. You’d only left because for once in your life, you declared it was alright to be selfish, for you to pursue something that didn’t choke your spirit and leave you completely isolated from the rest of the world. Humans were creatures of connection, after all—who was he to blame you for a concept he could not possibly retain?
It was so… unfair.
That’s right. Unfair.
You figured he felt that way, too. But in a way that wasn’t yours.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking in that pretty little head of yours, but I suggest no rash actions,” came his voice from above you, your head once again cast to the snow. You felt your lower lip tremble, but no more tears would come. Your brows furrowed so hard you felt your head physically hurt, but no sound left your parted lips aside from harsh, pained breaths. “I know you have your… moments. But realistically, this arrangement should be ideal. We get to go back to how it used to be, except you no longer get to boss me around like your mother. Okay?”
You never ordered him. It was always him telling you what to do, how to do it, sighing absently whenever you slipped up. You’d picked up some of Rhinedottir’s ugly traits, granted, but it was rich of him to pretend like he wasn’t clear of her influence. You’d both been twisted by the hands of the cruel mother, the cruel alchemist, the ruthless creator and Master. But you never, ever dared to pretend you could hold a light to your mother’s ways.
“Nibel, I’m going to need you to speak up if you want to say anything now,” he continued, tone flat as always. “This will likely be the last chance I’ll let you scream your lungs out before you’re under my custody. So think long and hard, but not too long.”
“It’s not fair,” you whispered, mainly into the snow you stared at so long until you saw shapes form on it.
“There it is,” he murmured. “Not fair, you say—”
“It’s not fair,” you repeated, tone suddenly stony and firm. He paused mid-step, staring down at you in puzzlement. Your palms pressed firmly against the snow, the skin having long gone numb with pain and the cold, but nonetheless you pushed yourself off until you were only kneeling. “That you get to tell me everything I’ve done wrong. That you get to—get to pretend like me abandoning you was the worst thing in your life. That you want to control me when… when I never even tried—”
You grit your teeth, exhaling harshly.
“What is it you want from me, Albedo?” You glanced up, but before he could part his lips to speak, you interrupted, “Because it’s not for me to apologise. You’re just like your predecessor, here to see me suffer. You’re just like Gold, here to make sure I feel as inferior as possible.” You painstakingly pressed one palm against your knee, using the momentum of your weight to push your first leg up. “You said you didn’t understand why I did what I did, but you could never understand in the first place.”
“If that’s all from you—”
“You don’t understand because you’re not me,” you huffed out, tone growing sharper and sharper. A wince, and you pushed yourself to stand on shaky legs. “Because you’re Albedo. Perfect, intelligent, better, everything I could never be. All of Gold’s attention on you just because she watched your skin fuse with her own eyes, and because you bent to her will so much better than a real human.”
“Nibel—”
“You have it all,” you spoke, but your voice rose with every bitter statement that spat from your chest. “You had her attention and love. You have Mondstadt’s undivided attention. You—hell, you got recognised by the Gods, and they granted you a fucking Vision!” You threw your hands up in defeat, but the light golden amulet in your coat pocket warmed through your chest until you felt like it could sear your sternum. “But of course, tell me all about how you were abandoned. Because that’s so fair.”
Rage. Pure, unbridled rage built inside your chest, greater than the force you felt when you’d fought for survival, or against the primordial project. Was it possible for a human to burn from the inside out just by the force of their passion?
“You wanna know why I left? Because I had nothing!” Your voice had risen to a shrill shriek, eyes ablaze with celestial energy and the tears you’d once shed dried on your cheeks. You were sure you looked like the picture of delusion right now, cheeks and nose red and tear-tracks on your skin and your hair mussed from the weather and the fighting, yet you pressed on. “I was alone! I had no one while you had everyone! My—” You choked, but when you next spoke, your voice boomed through the valley of the dragon. “My own fucking mother abandoned me!”
And that broke the spirit inside your chest. Shoulders heaving, you sobbed, feeling more tears fight with the biting cold and turning into frost on your wind-bitten cheeks. Yet you weren’t done. Not yet. Lungs aching and voice burning and throat bruising, you still stood and had to let the last of your emotions vent from your lonely, abandoned heart.
With a shaky voice, filled with resentment and heartbreak, you whimpered, “I just wanted to be you. You were so—so perfect, and you had everything when I didn’t even have my—my mother—” You let another sob wrack your frame, before you sniffled and roughly wiped your tears. “I know I left with no words for you. Because I couldn’t bear the idea of living in your shadow, because I knew I would be left in a life I’d hate. So fucking pardon me, but I don’t care how angry you are. It’s not fair!”
For a long moment, all that enveloped the cold and ice-filled valley was silence. You, standing a few paces away from Albedo, while he simply stared at you with parted lips and wide eyes, thinking a thousand thoughts you couldn’t begin to decipher.
You no longer cared. It’s not fair.
You felt enraged, livid by the idea of his thoughts. His entitlement. The idea that he could simply take away everything you’d fought and worked for, that he’d simply strip you of purpose until you were the hollow puppet controlled by the hand of an emotionless master, created a special sort of panic mixed with vitriol inside you, boiled your blood until breathing came with difficulty and the snow melted against your flushed skin.
When you finally regained your breath, you glared at him, eyes narrowed and lit up with elemental energy. “I’m only going to say this once, Albedo.” You took another step back, but light shone in the palm of your hand as a thinly-veiled threat of war. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if you ever, ever, try to follow me or hurt me like that again, I will bring your head to my mother personally. ”
You did not wait for his response when you turned on your heel, the blood in your cut long dried and tears turning to ice on your face as you staggered out of the valley of the beast. Your heart ached and you felt like crying all over again, but you doubted it was anything you couldn’t mitigate with time.
You looked to the grey sky, where hints of the setting sun peered through the punishing cold of the Skyfrost Nail’s atmosphere. Swallowing the remnant fear trickling through your system, you let out a long breath, only releasing more tears from your eyes.
Once, you were certain that you possibly even loved Albedo. While an extreme word, it had stemmed from a childish crush, to an innate trust you once felt for a homunculus that was learning to be human. You’d never confided in feelings like love with your mother, who always berated all expressions of emotions as obstacles to true and divine erudition. Despite that, you simply loved him purely, because you were young and you found solace in no one else.
And now you were alone in the world. Truly, world-endingly alone. You had no one; everyone had abandoned you or been pushed away by your own doing.
The thought… stung.
Humans are naturally social creatures. They don’t like to be alone, and they like to connect to others in any way they can. Whether it be through love, anger, or joy, it didn’t matter. Humanity connected on a base level that would likely be studied for many more years by the academics at Sumeru.
And here you were, abandoned in the soul by your own mother, grasped by a pain that could not be described—only felt.
In all your years with Albedo, you had never seen genuine fear on his face. It had been discontentment or maybe even distress when Rhinedottir left, frustration when experiments went wrong, contempt when he stood over you in the freezing cold.
But your memory would likely forever retain the wide eyes he regarded you with when you yelled at him.
Perhaps… perhaps your mother would look at you in the same way, when she found out you’d been blessed by the very Celestia that had destroyed her.