If he were to die now, here, would anyone regret him?
Mondstadt would have a new god, a more competent one. The other archons would also be happy, after all, they only see him as a nuisance. And Carmen... Archon, he would finally be able to see Carmen again...
Standing in Sal Vindagnyr, a figure clothed in white could be found in the middle of harsh, unforgiving winds that blowed around him as he drew out a shaky breath, watching impassively as a large dragon fell down the side of the mountain, a cry of agony escaping from him. The dragon's flesh dying, it's body quickly reduced to bones that scattered and broke, forming arcs above those who would find themselves walking this path.
He couldn't find it in himself to care for the dying dragon. His death seemed painful, unnatural. It couldn't be when the flesh was decaying and vanishing, when the dragon's blood was purple, corrupted as he was. Feeling the wind shift around him, a familiar presence behind him, he allowed himself to lower his guards, tense shoulders slumping with barely concealed exhaustion. They stayed a moment in silence, watching the dragon's remains and the trail of blood on grey stones.
"You are hurt, Barbatos."
Casting his gaze to the sky, his eyes locked on the floating castle high above, towering over Teyvat, proudly floating above all and judging those below. He couldn't help the resentment he felt towards it. It seemed to be looking at him, asking him what he would do now. To tell the truth, he didn't know. He felt lost, alone, cold. Tired. Really tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep his pain away for the next centuries to come.
"So are you," he finally answered, tearing his gaze to look at Dvalin.
"Are you really going to meet the other archons in your state?"
His eyes widening, Barbatos realized with a growing sense of dread what it was that he forgot, this feeling he couldn't quite shake away of having forgotten something really important, "I- Yes, yes I should."
"I would advise you against it, Barbatos."
The Archon stubbornly shook his head, only regretting it mere seconds later as his vision swirled, slumping back onto Dvalin who quickly wrapped him in his large blue wings. He couldn't ditch them, they already think of him as childish enough. The other six archons didn't like Barbatos, and that was okay with him, he didn't need them anyway, he didn't.
"Be reasonable, you can't even stand on your feet!"
"I appreciate your concern, I really do, but you know very well that I can't afford missing a meeting."
He heard Dvalin sign in mecontentement before opening the wings he was shielding the Archon with, carefully helping him back on his feet.
"Then you will need to change. Your clothes are covered in blood."
Dvalin gently helped him walk behind a rock, respectfully turning his back when the Archon started fabricating his clothes from the wind. Not having enough energy, he simply recreated his first outfit, the simple white, long, hooded robe, using his bloodied clothes to bandage the few still bleeding wounds he had.
"You can turn now," he gently whispered in the wind for his friend to hear.
Dvalin turned around, taking a good look at him, silent for a moment, as if debating what to say, or maybe was he just at a loss for words.
"You look horrible," he finally said.
Barbatos smiled weakly, resting his hand on the rock to help him stay standing.
"Where is it?"
"You don't have to." Dvalin just glared at him. "Jueun Karst, Liyue," he ended up saying with a sigh.
As Dvalin flew him to Liyue, Barbatos felt the wind running with them, engulfing them in a comforting embrace, a bit of his force returning to him, slowly but surely. When Dvalin stopped at the border of the adepti's territory, Barbatos was strong enough to stand on his own feet without needing help.
"I will not go any farther, or the adepti would sense me."
Barbatos nodded. Not expecting Dvalin to be here, they could sense him as a threat. Opening his white wings widely as he prepared himself to fly all the way up the mountain, he caught Dvalin looking at him intensely, a look of concern in his eyes. Feeling himself smile softly, he reached to gently put his hand around his friend's head.
"Don't worry, I will be fine."
Barbatos took fly, pretending to not see the concerned and doubting look Dvalin sent him. Slowly getting closer to the top of the mountain, he was incapable of ignoring the Geo particules in the air getting more condensed than ever. As he arrived, his feet touching the ground, he instantly righted his posture, not wishing to give away how tired and injured he was. Finally looking up at the other archons, he felt his heart drop in his chest as he remembered exactly why this meeting was so important.
During the Archon war, no god was seen without a hood. That way, by preventing others from seeing their face, they could roam the mortal world without being afraid of an attack directly targeting them. A god showing his face was considered a weakness. Even after the war, during their monthly Archon meetings, the hoods stayed up. But last month, last month they had decided to come to this meeting hoods down as a show of trust. And looking at all the other Archons, being able to see their face, look into their disapproving and unimpressed eyes, looking at their frowns, his hands jumped immediately to his hood, gripping it, his breath catching in his throat. Opening his mouth, thoughts running miles per minute, he took a step forward, apology already at the tip of his tongue. But whatever he was going to say was quickly lost to him as Murata, the Pyro Archon, slammed her hand against the table and abruptly stood up, fiery gaze looking at him with disdain and anger. It made him take a step away from her.
"Is this all a game to you ?!" she shouted at him. "Does it mean nothing to you?!"
Barbatos tightened his grip on his hood, eyes wide, lump in his throat, words stuck.
"You are two hours late! We were about to end the meeting when Morax sensed you! You finally decided you would grace us with your presence?"
Two hours..., he slowly realized. This late...? Did his fight against Durin really take that long?
"When is it that you will finally grow up?! You may be the youngest Archon, but you are not a child!" then Murata laughed sourly, "or are you?"
Barbatos turned his gaze to the others, all wearing various degree of anger, of disappointment. None of them said a thing, none of them tried to defend him, or contradict the Pyro Archon. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.
"I've had enough- We've had enough of you! You are childish enough and irresponsible! How you've manage to be a survivor of the war is beyond me!"
"Is-Is that how you see me?"
"Oh don't play dumb! You gained your seat in Celestia by pure luck! We all suffered! We all went through horrible things! We all lost something, our victory was not free! It came at a high cost," so much pain seemed to be emanating from her at the moment, but Barbatos couldn't really believe what she was saying to him. "But you? Always so happy, so carefree, without any concern in the world!"
Barbatos slowly let go of his good, placing his hands by his ears, shielding himself from having to hear those words any longer as he slowly shook his head in denial. He knew the Archons didn't view him well, but not that they hated him.
"Stop it," he whispered, "stop it..."
"And then what did you do today? You clearly showed us that we can't trust you. What did you think would happen when you came two hours late with your hood up?! How do you hope to protect your people with this attitude?! How do you expect them to trust you, to believe in you, to rely on you?! You are-"
" SHUT UP! SHUT. UP! "
And Barbatos snapped.
Breathing heavily, wrapping his arms around himself, he took a few steps back, not caring that his grip on his arms was probably too strong, and that he was probably bleeding through his clothes.
"You know nothing about me! You never saw me fight! I suffered too, but I try to not stay stuck in the past!"
Barbatos cast a quick glance at the stunned Archons, chest moving up and down with his heavy breathing. How could they accuse him without knowing anything? They didn't know a thing about him. His shoulders relaxed, his grip weakened. He let out a shuddering breath.
"Do you really think of me that lowly?" he asked them. "I never did anything to you."
Barbatos saw the way Morax closed his eyes and lowered his head, hands on the table in front of him.
"Isn't that what we are accusing you of?"
"What?" The Anemo Archon felt as if his breath was forcibly taken out of him.
Morax opened his eyes, looking at him with his piercing amber eyes, not quite able to meet Barbatos' who's face was still hidden by his hood. "You never do anything, slacking off from your duties. Barbatos, tell me," the way he said Barbatos' name sent shivers down his spine, "where were you at the time of the cataclysm, one hundred years ago? The Anemo energy was weak, almost non-existing, non-present."
"The cataclysm?" he weakly asked. It's been years since then, but never did he forget what happened there.
It was all red and the smell of death and blood was everywhere-
"So tell me Barbatos," continued Morax.
There was a child hiding, cowering, shivering, wide eyes terrified, he couldn't kill a child, he couldn't-
"Do you really care so little about your people?"
Barbatos heard a gasp as he fell to his knees on the ground, his hands cupping his ears harder in a desperate attempt at blocking the screams, the echos of the past. He barely registered the sound of someone's chair falling. He couldn't breath, he couldn't breath, he couldn't focus on anything other then the pleas in his head, begging for mercy. He felt someone rest a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away, blinking quickly, now gasping for air. He could vaguely hear someone yelling over his head, catching just some random "wait" and "too harsh".
Not that he cared.
And suddenly, as he felt the familiar presence of Dvalin, his tired mind never paused to think about the reason for his friend's presence, simply relishing in the warmth the dragon's wings gave him when they wrapped around his shivering body. Before losing consciousness, the last thing he saw was the shocked face of the Archons, and Morax holding out a hand keeping the Adepti from attacking, eyes wide and never leaving the dragon.
When he opened his eyes again, old Mondstadt's tower greeted him, and he closed his eyes, a small relieved smile at the idea that if he were to sleep a couple hundred years, Dvalin would protect him.