Chapter Text
For the most part, he isn't that bad of a musician, Venti thinks. It's really rather impressive how quickly he manages to learn to play the lyre, seeing as he didn't even have hands in his previous form.
At first, the strings are hard to pick because the fast healing of his vessel doesn't let his fingers become calloused. The gentle skin of his fingertips tears against the tightened strings and they bleed again and again. It gets easier with practice, even though his right hand still hurts.
But the trickiest part is probably getting a good handle on how to hold the lyre properly while playing.
“You should hold your lyre like you would a lover," the bards say to him, the sweetest dandelion wine loosening their tongues even around the Anemo Archon. Venti is glad for it, he allows the tiniest flicker of warm ease the clenching of his heart even if he knows the moment of closeness to them is short-lived. "Hold it gently but surely, embrace the lyre with confidence. Let it rest against your hip. And together you might yet make some beautiful sounds!"
Venti is not about to tell them he has never had a lover. He drinks alongside them and laughs a little breathless, his cheeks reddening as they all sing to their hearts’ content.
His people cherish the songs he performs, of this Venti is certain. The stories of fallen heroes with noble souls and blazing hearts soothe the sorrow for those left behind. For some witnessing their God singing of freedom in itself is a miracle. There is no better way to cultivate seeds of hope for the bright, peaceful future than with music. He learned it from a friend.
And yet, sometimes it's not even the divine separating Barbatos from his children. It's the form he takes. He's good with the lyre but there used to be someone better than him.
The pitch is just right but the feeling is off.
(Is it still only about the music, Venti wonders.)
He can't forget the way his dear friend used to sing. And neither can those who share the memories.
Venti doesn’t know how much time has passed in drinking until he catches a glimpse of familiar hair, the red-headed warrior standing in the doorway of the tavern. Their gazes lock, the sweet aftertaste of wine turning ashy at the back of Venti's throat as he tries and fails to swallow.
"The lyre," the red-haired warrior once said hoarsely, watching Venti play, "he used to play it with his left hand."
When those eyes linger on his pale face and fill with grief, he knows he's seen for what he is and who he’s not.
Suddenly he feels cold, aware of the distance between him and everyone around, as if he's far away from his beloved Mondstadt. No longer a merry bard. He's an Archon wasting away in Celestia.
The fruits of the divine are bitter on his lips, the wine is poison and the God of Winds can't breathe.
The air itself grows heavy with tension, sobering up the bards as the window flies open, its blinds thrashing against the wall with a thunderous crash.
The red-haired warrior hurries forward, his hand desperately outstretched. It’s hard to guess if the words on the tip of his tongue are those of apology or accusation. There is no chance to find out.
Barbatos runs away.
As the song comes to an end, the last doleful note lingering, Venti opens his eyes. It’s early morning, the lush grass is damp with dew and the air is pleasantly cool. He breathes in deep as he lets his hand rest on the lyre, fingertips sore and tingling.
“Well, they do know how to hold the lyre, unlike their liquor,” Venti whispers, clearing his throat. The lump is gone, for now. Days have passed since the last time he visited the tavern. The single cecilia sways in Venti’s hair as he shakes his head, braids dancing with the breeze. “But surely they jest!”
It must have been some layered teasing, he muses. Something about the bards and their reputation in making people swoon. No one actually needs a lover to play better.
The green garb is casted away as Venti rolls up his sleeves and picks up the lyre once again. His gaze falls on the milky fog flowing above the river. He moves closer to the shore and sits down on a rock, kicking his shoes and socks off. The water is chilly around his ankles but Venti barely takes notice. He takes a deep breath and looks down at his own reflection with a gentle, a tad rueful smile.
“Care for a ballad, my friend?” Venti chortles merrily, the glistering of his eyes belying his tone.
He begins to hum and strum the strings. The sky is a mixture of lavender blue and pink, the morning sunlight reflecting on the water. The clearing is peaceful, as he keeps playing.
Life goes on around him.
Listening to the river running and the early birds chirping, Venti lets the longing pour into music. Staring at the water, he sees the image of his friend, free under the boundless sky. Venti can almost pretend they’re performing together. His chest tightens. Distantly, he wonders if right now his music actually sounds better or if it’s a fidget of his imagination.
The hole in his aching heart is vast but it feels full. Just for a moment.
And then the wind itself tugs on his braids in worry.
Why should I be wary? Venti stammers, shaking his head to break free both from the fog of melancholy and the nugging of elements. He doesn’t feel anything out of order. The morning dim is going away but the clearing is safe.
Yes, he might have been just a bit lost in music. But he's still an Archon in his own nation. There’s no danger for Barbatos in his beloved Mondstadt. He’s not so easy to hurt, either.
Well, he sighs, tearing his gaze away from the river. Not anymore.
Still, it’s rare for the winds to fuss over him. “I guess it’s time for a break, then?” hums Venti, and he plays the next part to go over the song for the last time.
Just as he is about to stop playing, a beautiful voice he has never heard before joins him. The notes are light and soft like the gentlest spring.
A head breaks the surface of the river. It’s the golden eyes Venti notices first, they’re so warm that he can't help but lean closer, drawn to the brightest color around. Venti’s lips part but no sound slips past. There has to be a magic of some sort, because that’s how it feels when the stranger stares back at him.
They have such a sweet voice, and their song is effortlessly captivating. The tune is soothing, as if the river itself sings to Venti. He keeps playing the lyre, trying not to startle his sudden guest.
Hidden in waves of long blond locks, the little fin extensions of the stranger’s ears perk up to better catch the sound. That’s when Venti realizes it’s a mermaid. He’s being serenaded by a mermaid.
There is, in fact, magic. The mermaid raises their hands, holding the lyre of all things above the water. Their fingers are very slender, Venti notices, but have sharp nails.
The mermaid joins Venti in a duet with their own lyre. The world stills.
And then the once worried winds calm and dance freely with the music. Venti would have sworn that the sounds of water play over the strings. There’s no other way anyone could play with such grace. Notes weave together seamlessly, cocooning him comfortably like a warm embrace.
It's as if all of his troubles dim. Venti can’t get enough.
When the mermaid swims closer, unafraid of him, Venti feels a nervous laugh bubbling up. It seems like his initial shock was mistaken for the spell taking hold.
Oh, but a wind spirit can’t be charmed this way, he thinks. Once the confusion smooths over, Venti grows amused. Let alone the Anemo Archon.
Venti had never seen a mermaid before. The water is even colder when he enters the river and walks to them. From up this close, he sees the unshed droplets clinging to their fluffy lashes like tiny diamonds. Splashes of water run down the mermaid’s upper body, clad in white silk with their shoulders bare. He would dare to say they’re devastatingly beautiful. A sight worth to be captured in music.
Venti decides then and there that he has to write a song about this mysterious singer.
The mermaid’s tail is big and elegant, swaying gently. The main body shimmers like molten gold, sunlight scattering into a thousand small rainbows on top of the scales. The ends of the tail shine with lighter yellow, as well as the fins behind their ears.
There’s no mistaking a creature of water. It’s a nix.
And yet, his gaze is so achingly human, eyes curious. The mermaid tilts his head. Venti gets lost within the swirls of honeyed gold.
He’s mesmerizing.
As the mermaid reaches out a hand, Venti allows it. He isn’t worried, the mermaid can’t really hurt him. Besides, he’s just as curious on what the young man in front of him intends to do next.
He still gets startled when this peculiar stranger suddenly pokes his round cheek. A giggle escapes Venti and oh, now it’s too obvious he’s not under the spell.
“Oh my, don’t look so surprised, dearest nix,” Venti says with a slight lilt to his voice. He can’t help but laugh at the utter shock on the mermaid's face. “That one doesn't work on a bard! You can’t charm me with a song.”
The mermaid stumbles back and splashes Venti with water as he dives in the river, his powerful just barely missing the bard. “Alright, fair enough! It was rude of me to laugh but— please, could you stay just for a bit?” Venti calls after him, spluttering water.
Venti’s white blouse gets wet, sticking into his shoulders and collarbones. It feels freezing cold on his sun kissed skin. Even the Archon markings on his neck and chest are visible now. Venti lowers himself into the water, shivering all the while.
A slight breeze blows past, messing up his hair and obscuring the view. Venti tries to tuck his bangs back but fails. It’s almost like the wind mocks him for not heeding the warning. His hair is too heavy from being wet to comply. The teal tips of his braids turn into little curls.
The braids don’t start to glow, though, which is great. This means he has to worry only about the markings.
The river is eerily calm and quiet when Venti clears his eyes. He looks down, trying to spot the mermaid again. What he finds instead is the abandoned lyre, lying sadly at the bottom of the river.
“I know you’re still here,” Venti says patiently. He waits for a bit but the mermaid doesn’t come back for the instrument. It’s obvious that the mysterious stranger is cautious of him this time. Venti figures this is partly his fault for scaring the young man away. The water is not too deep. He dives to retrieve the lyre and emerges back, his hands on it firm.
“Aha, I see you have a lyre. I have one, too!” Venti muses aloud, nonchalant. “I did say you can’t charm me with it, didn’t I? But I swear the sound of your voice brings the songbirds to shame. The lyre you play is ordinary, yet you made this bard swoon.”
As Venti keeps talking, he can’t help but sneak glances all around the river. The mermaid doesn’t show up. But Venti knows he’s here. Venti hopes he’s here.
If he could talk to him for just a moment longer…
“I’m being sincere,” Venti adds, his tone a tad hushed, almost too quiet now. The river is silent. He holds the lyre closer to his chest. Somehow he can still feel the warmth of the mermaid’s hands on it. “The way you play… it’s like the elements long to sing along with you.”
Venti’s heart stops awhile when the mermaid finally emerges from the water. Golden eyes meet his own, twinkling with the same curiosity as before.
“If I may be so bold, would you consider… teaching me?” asks Venti.
It’s the stranger’s turn to be amused. “Why? Your voice is beautiful,” the mermaid says shortly, as a matter of fact.
“Why, I thank you, the praise is appreciated,” Venti chuckles softly, a pretty little laugh slipping past, and for some reason it makes the mermaid’s eyes widen. The young man blinks at Venti, lips parting, breath hitching in his throat at the sound.
Venti sees the mermaid’s mouth form the word “beautiful” again, and he gives a dazzling smile in return.
“My question still stands,” the young man reminds Venti, averting his eyes. Venti notices that his cheeks are slightly tinted pink.
“The reason is simple, you see, you’re exceptionally talented. And I have to become the most popular bard of Mondstadt!" exclaims Venti. And while this isn’t the real reason why he wants to learn, the whole truth is too raw to share with friends, let alone a stranger. “If you could just give me a tip or two…”
The mermaid watches Venti again, his eyes narrowing. “You’re brave to lie while being in the water with me, I’ll give you that.”
Answering the mermaid with silence, Venti bites on his lower lip.
“Aren’t you scared you’ll get drowned? You shouldn’t risk your safety like that,” the mermaid says, raising a brow. And yet, there’s no threat in his tone. It’s easy to sense the fond exasperation radiating in waves from him.
With what purpose did you try to lure me, then? Venti thinks to himself. Rather than raging that the charm didn’t work and trying to attack him, the mermaid stayed to listen and even warn him. It doesn’t make any sense. There has to be another reason.
It almost seems like the young man actually worries about some silly bard fooling around and getting in trouble with the other mermaids. The thought brings a smile to Venti’s face. He doesn’t expect to relax around the mermaid so soon, but the discomfort dissolves and a different type of feeling blooms instead.
Venti can feel the curiosity taking hold of him. “Nuh-uh. Not happening!” the bard declares cheerfully, carefree and bright.
“You… honestly want to learn, huh?” the mermaid tilts his head, hesitating.
“Can you teach me? Please? Please, please? ” Venti leans closer, the corners of his lips tugging up. He feels like he has passed a test of some sort when those golden eyes soften, the fuzzy feeling of warmth in his chest grows.
“You’re no ordinary human, are you?” the mermaid says instead, humming in thought. “The charm, it should have worked otherwise.”
“Ah…” Venti’s smile slowly dissolves and he takes a step back. “What is it to you, pretty stranger?”
To Venti's astonishment, the mermaid doesn’t push for answers. Yes, his cheeks flush, but all he does is look Venti in the eyes and say, “It’s nothing. I’ll help you anyway. Your music… It speaks of longing and separation not unlike mine.”
“Huh?”
“But you’ll have to help me, too. Deal?”
Venti squints at the young man, trying to decipher his honest expression for several seconds—if there’s anything else to be wary of, the mermaid doesn’t show it. His gaze is patient, golden eyes deprived of any malice.
“Marvelous! We have a deal, then,” declares Venti, offering his hand for a handshake. “How may I call you, my dearest mermaid? I’m Venti the bard!”
The mermaid looks puzzled at the sudden gesture, eyeing the open palm with a little frown that Venti decides is absolutely adorable, before taking it with both hands. His golden eyes light up as he quirks up an eyebrow at Venti.
Venti barely has time to register what is happening when suddenly the mermaid leans down, pressing warm lips against the back of his hand. Venti feels his heart stutter at the gentle touch.
“Aether.”