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ioveaether · 1 year

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whatever i want prince!scara x gn!knight!reader (masc leaning) royal au, pining, slight angst (jealousy, possessiveness), fluffy resolution, 4.4k words

he has never extended himself for what he wants. there is a person for every question. there is a chef to handle an exotic food craving, an advisor to schedule a luxury travel plan, a servant to send on a petty errand. each person is nameless and nothing is out of reach. there is no line between want and need.

his knight is a fixture, stuck to the rules and him like glue when scheduled to guard his bedroom door or the hall outside of his study or the garden gate when scara chooses to take a breath of fresh air. at first, they were like a fly – ever present even when waved away – but now, scara struggles to raise his hand to dismiss them.

there is a sensory experience he is seeking that he is not dextrous enough to catch between his fingers.

it starts with a mistake. scara is never allowed a private moment to himself. he is followed by the same ghosts that make his opulent lifestyle possible. and so, he retires to bed early only to take to the halls without chaperone. one night, while cutting corners to reach the kitchen for an early breakfast, he stumbles upon a cozy banquet hosted by the knights for one another. he finds himself peering between the cracked mahogany doors to watch the brazen few laugh amongst each other in the crackling fire’s glow.

they are close with one another. grins split across their faces as they throw arms around shoulders and thrust mugs of beer into hands.

as his eyes dance from person to person, he catches sight of a familiar face. his own personal guard with a look so unfamiliar to the prince decorating their face. they’re sitting off to the side, quiet as ever, but with a fondness written in their eyes accompanied by a matching smile that scara has never had the benefit of seeing before.

he watches as their eyes flick from person to person while gently tending to the fire. they drop the iron rod to steady a friend who stumbles too close to the flames, their capable hands wrapping around the other knight’s waist. scara feels the ghost of them around his own, but the difference is the nonchalance of their grip. his knight even squeezes their comrade close, teasing him for being so clumsy.

they would never do such a thing to their prince, would they?

they even tell a joke – eliciting rambunctious laughter from the small crowd and managing to tilt scara’s lips into a smile. he hides it behind his hand, embarrassed.

scara begins to imagine himself entwined in their comradery. instead of the disdain he expected to feel from lowering himself to their status, envy eats away at him like poison. frustration bubbles up his throat. he shouldn’t have to fantasize of intimacy – he has a monopoly on his knight’s time… he should be the closest one to them in the room.

he sighs the slightest of sighs, the sound lost in the chatter. scara stares.

and as if his knight had been aware of scara’s presence the entire time, their gaze flicks up to meet his.

his eyes widen and he sharply pulls away, slamming his back against the wall beside the door. his heart thunders in his chest and his cheeks flush red, but he can’t fathom the dramatics of his reaction. why does he feel as though he’s been caught misbehaving? he was the prince of their country.

but still, scara rockets down the hall from where he came, holing himself up in his chambers and praying that his knight will think the sight of scara in the crack of the doorway was just a trick of the flickering light. but as he readies himself for bed, with the promise that he would rise in just a few hours, the images of his knight shed of their stoicism repeat in his mind.

when he wakes up, the clarity of his memory has waned. their smile is distorted by the licking firelight and their laugh has dulled a decibel or two. he wants to see and to hear and to feel it again, and nothing he wants is out of reach.

so why are they out of reach?

while stable boys saddle their steeds, scara glances up from petting his horse to look at his knight. he watches, enraptured by the ease with which they weave playful banter between the servants.

“you’re much too small to properly saddle my mare,” his knight teases a young boy whose face scrunches up at the challenge, quickly pushing his older brother out of the way to take over preparing the horse for riding. a few more quips and the group of kids are falling over themselves with laughter, piling the knight with curious questions, and trying to get a closer look at their sword and armor.

despite not even knowing their name, the stable boys are crawling over his knight like they’re an older sibling. scara watches as they rally the boys and carefully unsheathe their sword, telling them the history following the blade. the bright-eyed kids crowd around the knight, begging to hold the handle or even touch the metal. scara holds back a smile as his knight waves them away, shaking their head.

“his majesty bestows the sword only to the most terrifying,” scara interjects with an attempt at sarcasm, “so don’t get too close…” his tone is too serious despite his intention to participate in the conversation, not end it. the boys disperse in fear.

his knight consoles him. “ah, i’m sorry, your highness. they didn’t understand your humor.” and although the words are kind, they’re distant.

he rolls his eyes, mounting his steed without another word. how, scara wonders, is one supposed to grow close with another? he grits his teeth.

“come here,” he orders, and they stride close. the two of them are in the library in the west wing. far from the bustle of servants or wandering nobles, they are wrapped in quiet. hidden between bookshelves as tall as buildings, each fortified with volumes upon volumes of books slotted together like bricks. the silence is interrupted only by scara’s page turning and accompanying hums.

his knight stands beside him, patiently awaiting orders. scara leans against a desk, tilting his head and letting his dress shirt slip down, hanging dangerously off his shoulder. “could you help me?” he asks, voice pitching lower.

“yes, your highness, what do you need?” his knight asks, impassive as stone. in fact, their eyes don’t even lift to meet his.

scara tries not to let the frustration show, but his self control is near nonexistent. “i am going to get the oldest publication of this philosophy anthology,” he says through gritted teeth, pointing to the very top of the bookshelf. the ceiling is seemingly miles away, and his knight opens their mouth to express concern, but scara is quicker. “it’s fine, just watch me,” he says,

his knight finds the wheeled ladder attached to the bookcase and pulls it to scara, taking a step back to watch the prince mount and climb. when he’s a third of the way up the ladder, he looks down to his knight. “oh no,” scara says, voice devoid of any emotion as he manually loosens his grip on the ladder, “i’m losing my balance.”

“sir, are you alright?” his knight calls up to him.

“i’m falling,” he calls down before letting go. he plummets directly into their waiting arms and stares up at them expectantly as if waiting for something. he’s swindled their touch – their strong hold carefully cradling him – yet he can’t swindle familiarity. he can’t manufacture ease. instead of teasing him… instead of even scolding him… they simply righten him on his feet and ask:

“would you like to try again, sire? or shall i?”

he frowns. “it’s the green book with golden binding,” he says, taking a seat at the desk. he lays his head down on his arms, staring up at his knight climbing the ladder up the bookcase and plotting how best the fill the gap between them.

the study is quiet. scara leans over the chaise for guidance when he needs help with a special stitch of his embroidery. his aunt nahida carefully instructs him where to prick his needle next. “is there something on your mind?” she asks when she catches his brows furrowed.

“i’m frustrated,” he admits almost immediately.

“with embroidering?” her voice tilts with curiosity.

“no…” scara says, looking up from his work. he looks up, then down, and then to nahida. “how did you do it?” scara asks. “how did… how did we become close? how did you manufacture comfort? why is it easy to speak with you?”

nahida blinks and puts a finger to her lips. she hums, thinking hard, intrigued by his question. “i’m not sure,” she admits. “shouldn’t you be the one to answer those questions?” she asks. “why?”

scara’s face turns back to his stitching, but it does little to hide the way his cheeks flush. he doesn’t answer.

“is there someone you want to be close to?” nahida asks.

“yes,” scara admits quietly.

“do i know them?” she prompts gently.

“yes,” he answers again, thread and needle working vigorously as his anxiousness builds.

“can i ask who they are?”

“no,” scara almost squeaks. “isn’t it enough to know that there is someone?”

“oh, well, okay,” nahida says, putting a finger to her lips. “why do you feel comfortable talking to me?”

scara looks up, red in the face. he bites his lip, thinking hard. “you’re persistent,” he says carefully… just halfway to an insult. “you listen to me…” he continues. “remember things i tell you… ask me questions… and i feel like i want to tell you more and more.”

he looks to nahida to see her smiling giddily behind her hand and his face sours. “this is just an ego trip for you.”

“no!” she bursts, “i’m just happy… to know how you feel.”

his eyes widen a little bit and a puzzle piece snaps into place. he sighs before letting a fond smile turn his lips as he looks away. “shut up,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t mean it. she giggles, sitting closer to him on the chaise and fixing his hair with affection reserved for family.

it’s morning. his eyes still haven’t adjusted to the bright rays shining through the windows of the dining hall. he squints at his plate, pushing the fresh fruit around with his fork and growing more irate by the second as his advisor flips through the details of his schedule, reminding him of his lack of autonomy.

“and finally, a gift in honor for your stellar performance in our diplomacy lessons,” he drones on, “we do not meet for our evening class tonight.”

“yeah, yeah,” scara waves him away before the words register. “wait, we don’t?”

“no, i’m giving you the hours to rest… or to get up to whatever mischief. please don’t implicate me in your plans. i’d rather not be scolded by her majesty for my decision to give you this freedom.”

“she doesn’t care,” scara slights, rolling his eyes. his advisor is jaded, excusing himself without a word for the prince’s disrespect of the throne. scara leaves his half-eaten plate behind and makes his way to the door, his eyes flicking up to the knight waiting at the threshold for him. to think there was a time he never glanced, looked. stared… – he catches himself, turning his face quickly to hide the heat painting him pink all over again.

and his conversation with nahida lingers in the back of his mind, growing closer as he approaches until it’s front and center. words he didn’t even know he wanted to say inch up his throat and before he could even process them himself, his mouth opens and they come falling out. “during my free hour you will practice piano with me,” he blurts.

his knight tilts their head curiously before giving him an uncertain nod.

ah, it came out as an order… not an invitation. scara shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. he tries again. “i-i mean… would you like to practice piano with me tonight?” the words are creaky like rusty hinges as he uses manners gone unseen since childhood. he acts in his etiquette classes, of course. this is real.

“i accompany you everywhere, sire,” they say as if the prince has forgotten.

scara’s mouth clamps shut and he looks away, defeated. “i-i know that,” he says, biting his lip. “whatever,” he snaps, storming off into the hall, his knight trailing behind like a puppy.

when the final lesson of his day comes to a close, his wrists are sore from the articles he’d written and his eyes are strained from deciphering various diplomats’ awful lettering. piano seems like a terrible idea.

“are you headed to the study now, then?” his knight asks from behind him. he jumps from the sudden sound of their voice and turns around in his chair.

“i’m not sure,” he answers timidly. “i think…” he doesn’t want to say it. it feels like a secret, like if he reveals where he wants to go and what he wants to do it will reveal what he wants from his knight. what do i want? he asks himself. “i am going to the greenhouse instead,” he says. he’s lying. he wants to go to the field adjacent to the greenhouse. he’s going to grab a picnic blanket and a basket from one of the closets in the kitchen.

the knight doesn’t question him. they never do. a part of him wishes they would… especially as he rifles through the walk-in pantry, disappearing into the cellar and hoisting himself up metal racks without explanation.

as they enter the garden, the cool night air helps the tense heat in his body loosen and dissipate. he turns around, holding his knight in place with his sharp gaze. “are you not going to ask me anything?”

their response is obedient. “what should i ask?”

he frowns and spins around, taking bigger steps towards the field.

when they arrive, the grass is dewy. the shine of the moonlight reflects off the droplets like jewelry. it’s quiet, with only the sound of a lonely owl and the wind pulling at the tops of the trees surrounding the clearing.

and although they try to help, scara angrily pushes his guard away as he sets up the blanket himself. in the basket he’d hastily prepared is a bottle of finely aged wine and two glasses wrapped in cloth.

“d-do you want me to pour you a drink?” scara asks, already having taken a seat. he stares up at his knight who stands a few steps away from the edge of the blanket. ever vigilant, their eyes are turned to the edge of the forest as if expecting an ambush.

“shouldn’t i keep watch, your majesty?” they ask with the same tilt of their head as earlier. his heart squeezes up in his chest. this won’t do.

he remembers nahida’s giddy smile in the wake of his honesty. “i wanted to spend time with you,” he admits, voice small. anyone could have missed it in the wind.

and with the same swiftness as if they had been commanded, his guard takes a seat across from him. scara feels rewarded.

the gaze they turn to him is at an intensity he has never prepared for. he feels like he’s being dissected. filled with nervous energy, scara keeps his hands busy with uncorking the dark red bottle.

the silence eats away at him, eyes shifting all over as he sets up the frosted glass on the linen blanket. he pours them a drink. “only one,” they say, taking it. “i’ve never been served by royalty. it feels blasphemous, in a way.”

scara’s mind goes haywire trying to find the right question to ask to foster a proper conversation. it’s as if every etiquette class he managed to attend has been wiped from his memory. “do you drink often?” he finally asks.

his knight contemplates after their sip. “no… only with friends,” they say.

“it seems like fun,” scara responds.

the knight hums. “what, does?” they ask. “drinking with friends?”

“yes,” scara says, thinking back to the night he spied them in the small crowd of cozy comradery by the fireplace… until he realizes his knight is giving him a knowing smile.

“you can join next time,” they say softly.

scara feels his heart thump a little harder. he looks away from their face, spending his focus elsewhere and letting the taste of bittersweet wine flood his tongue. “i think i might scare them with my presence if i interject,” he manages.

“maybe the first time,” his knight agrees. scara’s shoulders tense. “i’m sure the second time, though, a brave few would extend a mug,” they say, grabbing the wine bottle. “and the third, they might even pour you a drink.”

as if to prove their point, they pour more wine into his cup. he takes a huge gulp in his nervousness. his knight laughs. scara smiles against his glass.

“i don’t think you’re scary,” they admit into the cool night air. the sentiment slips into scara’s heart.

he rolls around in his bed, unable to sleep. a week had passed since the night sky and the picnic blanket and the wine and his guard and they’re friends and apparently always have been and if that was his goal…

friends? scara asks himself. he feels greedy.

he groans, burying his face into his pillow and kicking his feet. he rolls over and over and over until he’s reached the other side of the bed. finding the moon through his window, scara frowns, pushing himself up and tossing his legs over the side of the mattress. if he can’t sleep, he might as well take to the halls.

the castle is quiet except for the occasional jangle of a lamplight in a patrolling guard’s hand. he dips between halls, hiding behind heavy window drapes and slipping into empty closets. he keeps his body as occupied as his mind with the one-sided dance of getting from one wing to the other undetected.

he has no objective other than to tire himself, flitting from room to room like a moth. he runs his finger down dusty bookcases, breathes on windows till he can draw shapes into the glass, and rearranges decorations to keep the ghost stories circulating among the maids.

he finds himself near the barracks as if it were the light he was drawn to.

steps sound in his direction – another patrol – and he reaches for the nearest door handle, hastily disappearing into a room he’s never been in before. he looks around, eyes adjusting to the low light. a small bed and plain canopy take up most of the space… a guest bedroom for visiting servants. he doesn’t seem to be alone this time, though, if the lamplight in the far corner of the room is anything to go by.

but the sight in the burgundy armchair beside it makes his stomach plummet to the ground.

“your majesty?” his knight asks in shock, the words smushing together in a rushed jumble. there is a girl in their lap.

scara stares with wide eyes as the woman scrambles out of her… seat… to bow over and over, apologies spilling from her mouth. he ignores every word. she’s still too close to them, scara thinks. “get out,” he whispers.

she falls silent, meeting his gaze. “get out,” he says a little louder. she looks at the door and points at herself in confusion. “are you stupid?” scara asks, tone scathing. “get out,” he repeats.

he feels satisfaction at the fear in her face, dashing past him and through the door in a scramble. it slams closed behind her. why am i so angry? scara thinks, clenching his fists.

“and me?” his knight asks from the chair. “my punishment for my unprofessionalism?”

scara feels something stinging the back of his eyes when he looks at them. “s-shut up,” he barks. “i’m thinking.”

“of?”

his jaw clenches and there’s a fire in his eyes as he asks: “why would you let her touch you?”

it’s so unfair, he thinks.

“w-wh… sire, what do you mean?” they ask gently.

“what did she do to deserve it?” scara feels tears welling up in his eyes and he’s mortified by the strength of his emotions, inundated by waves of heat rolling through his limbs. a pit opens up in his stomach as tears begin to drip. “tell me,” he demands, striding over and looming ominously.

“s-sorry… what?” his knight asks, sitting up in their seat.

scara pushes them back down into the armchair, feeling his heart flutter as his eyes comb over every detail of their face softened by the glow of the moonlight through the window. “i’m being very clear,” he says, managing to regain the edge to his voice.

they go limp, letting scara dig his fingers into their shoulders and hold them down. “are you asking how we got into that… situation?”

“yes,” scara says. “what did she do?” he asks, stressing every word of his question.

“u-um, well,” they begin, a little embarrassed. “we talked… it was a bit of flirting… first–

“you look beautiful in the moonlight tonight,” he practically shouts, cutting them off. the compliment loses its meaning entirely through its awkward, manufactured delivery. “now you to me,” he commands.

and the tension shatters as his knight’s eyes widen, jaw slackening in shock. the prince is so… awkward. it takes everything in them not to laugh in his face.

“is his highness… jealous?” they ask softly, lips curving into a smile.

“no!” scara bursts, face flushed red. he bites his lip, grabbing the arm rests of the chair and hoisting himself into the seat, straddling his knight’s lap. “i-i can have anything i want,” he says, and yet he nervously searches the knight’s face for any signs of discomfort.

how painfully endearing.

they encourage him. “she held my face,” they say. scara takes his two shaking hands and harshly cups his knight’s face, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “she…” they trail off before biting the inside of their cheek. “she told me how she felt.”

scara pales.

he pulls his hands away and wipes his tears with the sleeves of his nightgown. the sound of the ocean in his ears calms to the silence of a still pond. he swallows hard. “i want you close to me. i want you to be closest with me,” he says, voice just above a whisper.

and his knight sits with his confession for a moment, studying his eyes and the teardrops that had caught in his lashes like watery diamonds. the tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, wiping at his face and looking away like he can’t bear to meet their gaze. it seems almost silly – the prince in a fuss.

“only if you’ll be close to me,” they say, hands finding scara’s waist. “closest with me.”

scara’s breath catches in his throat. “are you serious?” he asks.

“lying would be against my oath,” they say.

“did you say that to her?” scara asks, frowning.

“nope,” they say, having to defend themselves like an unfaithful lover. “i’m not even entirely sure what her name is.”

“then why did you let her touch you?” he asks, eyeing them down suspiciously.

“because i didn’t know at the time that i belonged to the prince,” they say, grinning. “it’s news to me, haven’t you realized?”

scara blushes. “as the prince, i command you to never… do that again with anyone,” he says, lip curling in disgust as he thinks of the maid touching what’s supposed to be his, “anyone but me,” he breathes.

“you know,” his knight laughs. “you could command me as yourself,” they say.

scara’s heart stutters like his tongue as he mutters “s-shut up.” he pinches their cheeks hard enough to make them wince.

“what now?” they ask coyly and scara becomes hyper aware of where he sits, nothing but the thin sheet of silk of his nightgown separating him from his knight. he almost falls backwards as he stands up, putting a bit of distance between them.

it’s as if the sheer dramatics of his performance have finally caught up to him.

“i-i don’t know,” he admits. what does he do now that he has what he wants? he has to ask nahida. “i’m… i’m tired,” he lies, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“should i escort you to your chambers?” the knight asks, amused. scara backs away towards the door.

“i know how to get there by myself just fine,” he says, hand grasping for the door handle, “i live here.”

“goodnight, sire,” they say, leaning forward and propping their chin up with their hand, “take care.”

“yes, night, good,” he says, shutting the door behind him and taking a deep breath against the wall to calm himself only to realize he’s been caught in the light of a senior patrolling guard’s oil lamp. he’s escorted back to his room by his ear, cursing the entire way.

when he’s tucked away with the senior at his door to keep him inside for the few hours before the sun rises… his stomach is a mess of butterflies – he feels sick and shy with love. morning doves begin to coo in couples as if to remind him of his new other half.

his tutor leaves the two alone in the study and scara fills the silence when it grows too loud to ignore. “rid that smile from your face,” he blurts. his knight’s eyes have been burning holes into him the entire morning.

“i’m happy to see you,” they say.

and scara can’t help but smile in tandem, gaze glued to the documents piling his desk. he clears his throat. “my mother is hosting an upcoming ball, i know you’ve heard…” he trails off, “and perhaps… perhaps we can practice my waltz tonight?”

“of course, if it would make you feel prepared for the ball,” they say, committing to the act. they both knew it was an excuse to be near each other without a chaperone and they both knew they would be continuing to make excuses for a long time to come.

#jadens reblogs (◍•ᴗ•◍)#GWKSGDKEGEIBDK #I LOVE THIS OH MY GOD

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ioveaether · 1 year

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WHAT ONCE WAS

SYNOPSIS: Accountability is a bitter pill to swallow, but what hurts more is being forgotten by the one he loves the most. As he rebuilds your relationship once more, Scaramouche has a difficult decision to make: have you live in blissful ignorance or admit the truth and risk everything falling apart again.

TAGS: angst w fluff, happy ending bc I’m not that cruel, major spoilers for the “Inversion of Genesis” interlude archon quest, scaramouche is referred to as “Ena” bc that’s the name I gave him, gn reader, 11.7k word count

NOTES: so this is where I’ve been for the past *checks calendar* three months

Here’s the in-depth explanation and analysis behind this fic if you want to read it afterward!

Watch me post this and then inevitably disappear for a few more 🫡

Scaramouche has been acting strange lately.

He’s been unusually silent like he’s pondering something and staring off into space most of the time. When you ask him about it, he shrugs your questions off and says it’s nothing.

“What’s on your mind, Scara?”

“Nothing. Just… thinking.”

And the conversations always end there. He makes no effort to elaborate and eventually, you stop digging for answers. Other than that, he still acts normally. He still has his sharp tongue and attitude. You still get into your daily fights and scuffles with him over nothing. You’d return home from work and he’d return home from whatever he was doing in the city (something along the lines of community service was what you managed to gather from the bits and pieces of information he told you). In a sense, everything was still the same. His sudden radio silence at times was startling, but nothing ever changed in your relationship as a result of it.

… But really, it’s kind of scary how intensely he zones out sometimes.

Then, everything changes one night.

You’re getting ready for bed with him while he stares out the window as usual. If you follow his line of sight, it leads to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. He’s been oddly fixated on that place lately and you haven’t been able to get an answer as to why.

You take a seat on the bed next to him. There’s a look in his eyes that tells you he’s plotting something- that there’s an idea brewing in his mind.

“Thinking again? What nefarious scheme are you plotting-”

You don’t even get the chance to tease him further before he pulls you into a tight hug. Normally, he’s nowhere near this affectionate, preferring to keep his distance even in your close relationship, but now he’s holding you close as if he’s afraid he’ll lose you otherwise.

“...Scara? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to give you a hug.”

His soft violet hair tickles your neck and you feel his hands absentmindedly tracing circles around your waist.

“Is there a reason as to why?”

“No. Just felt like it.”

You eye him suspiciously. As soon as it started, he pulls away from the hug and flicks your forehead.

“Go to sleep now. I’ll join you in a bit. Just… let me think for a bit longer.

“I love you.”

He says the last part like it’s nothing. It nearly gives you whiplash and you look at him strangely. He’s really lost his mind this time, hasn’t he? He almost never does that.

“What’re you gaping at me like that for? Go to sleep already.”

He lightly hits you over the head with a pillow before you can say anything else. You roll your eyes and with a huff, roll onto your side until you’re fast asleep within a few minutes.

Scaramouche doesn’t join you as he promised. Instead, he continues to stare out the window at the moon, his gaze occasionally flickering back to your sleeping figure. A rare expression of uncertainty crosses his face as he sinks deep into thought.

Is this really the right decision?

Time stretches out over an eternity. Hours pass and the moon rises higher into the sky. Scaramouche debates with himself, unsure of what to do.

This is a decision I can’t go back from.

Throughout his long life, he’s never been faced with a choice as difficult as this. Neither decision ends well for either of you. Deep down, he knew what the correct answer was, yet he refused to consider it for more than a few seconds.

What would he do if he lost everything all over again?

Time was running out. Scaramouche gets up to leave with his mind made up. Lying to himself wouldn’t do anything and Nahida was waiting for him. He plants a soft kiss on your cheek and stares at you longingly one last time before putting his hat on and heading out the door. It closes behind him with a silent click.

Whatever happens next, happens. He’ll witness the results of his actions tomorrow.

The next morning, you wake up feeling refreshed and your mind clearer than it’s ever been. It feels like you’ve been asleep for a very, very long time and you’ve just woken up.

And instantly, you notice something is off.

There are traces of another person everywhere. From the Inazuman-style clothes hanging in the closet that most definitely aren’t yours to the ink-wash paintings hanging on the wall, it’s evident that someone has influenced your life tremendously.

But who? Your mind is drawing up blanks as to who it could be.

When you get downstairs, it’s even more prominent. A pair of slippers that are too big for you by the stairwell. Books sitting on the bookshelf that after examining their titles and summaries, aren’t to your liking but are still there anyway. Traditional Inazuman sandals and shoes are lined up next to yours by the front door. None of it matches the vibe of your house and yet, they look as if they’ve been there forever, weathered and worn with time.

There’s a photo sitting on a side table in the living room that catches your attention. Upon closer inspection, it’s of you and a young man sitting side by side and posing for the camera. His attire is… unique. You can’t say you’ve seen anything quite like it before.

The first thing that catches your attention is the wide-brimmed hat he’s wearing. It’s ornate, with gold decorations and a veil in the back. His clothes seem like they cost a fortune and appear to be from Inazuma, similar to the ones hanging in your bedroom closet. A smirk plays across his face, yet there’s a gentle look in his eyes as he gazes at you smiling at the camera. An arm is slung around your shoulder, pulling you close.

Clearly, you have- or had?- some sort of special relationship with him according to this photo. But you don’t recognize his face. You can’t remember anything about this man. You don’t even know his name.

Who is he?

Someone knocks at the door. Three solid thumps against the wood and then silence. The sound echoes in your ears and you can feel yourself get up to answer the door. Why does it feel like you have no control over your body right now? Why does time feel like it’s moving so slowly?

Why are you so afraid of what awaits you on the other side of the door?

You open the door to reveal a young man waiting patiently. With a shock, you realize he’s the same man in the photo. He has the same fair skin, the same eyes, and the same blunt haircut.

(He’s even prettier up close and in person.)

He’s changed quite a bit too. His attire is different now. He wears an open-chested kimono with a black bodysuit underneath and pleated shorts. The furisode kimono is dyed in shades of blue and white that resemble the sky and small birds are depicted on the long sleeves as if they are taking to the skies. His hat has lost the veil, but it’s more ornate and now resembles a lotus, the metal gleaming in the late afternoon sun. More surprisingly is the Anemo vision pinned proudly to his robes. By the looks of it, it seems as if he built his entire outfit around it.

But what surprises you the most is his face. He seems… unburdened now. Like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders for the first time.

There’s a look of trepidation on his face and a small spark of hope in his eyes as he meets your gaze.

“... Can I help you?”

The spark of hope quickly dies at your response. His face is crestfallen, yet all he does is let out a resigned sigh.

“I’m a lost traveler that’s in need of a place to stay. Do you mind if I stay at your house for a little while?”

You glance back at the photo, then back at him. Under any other circumstances, you would have said no, but this time…

“Of course. But I don’t know your name yet.”

He pauses for a moment. His gaze darts around like he was searching for an answer- or several answers. You’re beginning to wonder if you said the wrong thing before he chuckles and smiles, finally relaxing.

“What you call me doesn’t matter. Call me anything you want.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

He huffs a sigh. Persistent as always, he thinks.

“Others call me Wanderer. Call me that if you’re strapped for ideas.”

“Wanderer…”

It’s an interesting name for sure. In your opinion, it really can’t be considered a name. It’s more suited for a description.

“That’s quite the interesting name you’ve got there, but it’s awkward to say and isn’t really suited for a name.”

“If you don’t like it, call me something else then,” he retorts. You ignore the remark and mentally go through the limited collection of Inazuman names you know of. None of them are suitable until a long-forgotten one hits you out of the blue.

“Hmm… how about the name Ena?”

“Ena,” he repeats to himself, trying the name on for size. To your surprise, you watch as his scowl melts into a grin and his eyes soften. His eyes shine with delight and he lets out a little chuckle.

“Meaning ‘gift from god’. I like it.”

I wouldn’t consider myself that, he thinks. Far from it, actually. But if that’s what you think I am, then I’ll believe it wholeheartedly.

“And by the way, Ena is a girl’s name.”

Your eyes go wide with shock.

“I-really? Wait, I’m sorry for-!”

You’re interrupted by his unabashed laughter at your dumbfounded expression. The smug look on his face tells you that he got the desired reaction out of you.

“You should’ve seen your face! It’s so easy to get you worked up over nothing, you know?”

“Stop pulling my leg like that!”

For some reason, this kind of argument with him over nothing feels… familiar. You push the thought to the side and storm away, huffing and puffing in irritation.

“Whatever. Come inside and make yourself at home. Just don’t make a mess of anything.”

Ena goes quiet and his wistful gaze lingers on the spot you were just a few moments ago. He lets out a drawn-out sigh and an unwelcome, though familiar, feeling tugs at the heart he now knows he has. Was it regret? Sorrow? Longing for something so close yet so far, barely out of touch?

Whatever it was, the full weight of his actions had finally hit him. Karma had finally come back to make him pay. He lifts his Anemo vision up and eyes it. It glows in response and he scoffs.

… He can’t say he misses the feeling of it.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow- accountability and the uncertainty of the future. He glances inside your house and sighs before shaking his head and heading inside.

You’re just as lovely as the day I lost you.

The next day, he has an interesting idea. You were eating breakfast around the table with him not-so-subtly criticizing your cooking skills and you telling him to “make his own if it’s so bad then.” He had scoffed and said he’ll take you up on that offer.

(This scene feels strangely domestic and familiar…)

Ena pushes his (empty) bowl to the side. There’s that look in his eyes that tells you he’s up to no good. How you managed to recognize it after less than a day with him, you have no idea.

“How would you like to travel the world with me?”

You pause and stare at him blankly.

“What?”

“You heard me. How would you like to travel the world? I’m sure you’ve always wanted to do that, right?”

“With you in the way? No thanks.”

He scowls at that and flicks your forehead. You yelp in pain and bat his hands away before turning and staring out the window for a bit.

“But all jokes aside, you’re right. I’ve always wanted to travel the world ever since I was little.”

You pause and bite your lip before giving him a suspicious look.

“First off, why are you offering this?”

He rolls his eyes and laughs.

“I just thought it’d be pretty pathetic if you died without ever seeing the world. Plus, I wanted to-”

He stops himself from saying anything else just in time. You stare at him strangely and he brushes you off. It’s your turn to roll your eyes now as you gather the dishes and begin washing them.

I wanted to show you the places I once took you to that you’ve now forgotten, was what he wanted to say. How will you react now that we’ve started over? Will you react with wonder at the dazzling lights of Liyue Harbor? Laugh and dance happily amongst the wide expanse of grassy plains in Mondstadt? Go silent with awe at the solemn rule of the Shogun in Inazuma?

He silently laughs at himself. He’s become weaker ever since he met you all those years ago. Not like he minded.

You’ve finished the dishes and you’re staring at him with an idea brewing in your head.

“So what I’m hearing is an offer for a free vacation with no strings attached.”

Your tone is mischievous and there’s that shit-eating grin on your face he knows all too well. Ena groans and rolls his eyes in faux annoyance.

“If that’s how you want to think of it, then yes.”

You snicker victoriously and it’s all he can do to not go over and (lovingly) flick your forehead as hard as he can.

“But what about money? A trip around the world is going to cost a fortune, right? Plus, there’s my small business I have to worry about. It’s my only means of income…”

Ena waves a hand at you. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll handle it. Focus on making sure everything’s in order for the house and your business.”

I’ve got more Mora than I know what to do with, thanks to my time in the Fatui.

He looks over his shoulder at you.

“I recommend you pack your bags as soon as possible. We leave when everything is done and ready.”

The first nation he takes you to is Mondstadt, the land of freedom. A warm breeze brushes your skin as you step foot into the city, carrying with it the scent of dandelion wine and the familiar feeling of well-wishes.

The city is so lively. Children and teenagers chase each other down the cobblestone streets. A crowd of people gathers around a small child selling flowers, the sweet fragrance of them making its way over to you. The colorful banners strung overhead between buildings flutter in the wind. A group of adventurers pass by you and give you bright grins.

“A pair of travelers, eh? Welcome to Mondstadt!”

A bard clad in green sings and plays his lyre to a captive audience by the fountain in the city square. The smell of freshly-cooked food from Good Hunter on your left tempts you and through the door, you can hear the clink of bottles being toasted and the cheers of rowdy but good-natured patrons.

You feel Ena tug on your sleeve. He’s grinning at you mischievously.

“Come on, slowpoke, we’re not stopping here. There’s more to see than just the city.”

The next few weeks pass by in a blur.

Soon after your arrival in Mondstadt, he takes you to the Thousand Winds Temple on the eastern coast of Mondstadt as the first stop. Stone arches tower above your head and you have to crane your neck upwards to see the end of the pillars that seem to stretch upward forever. The sheer size of the temple makes you feel almost insignificant, but ivy and fauna have slowly reclaimed it with overgrowth rampant everywhere. It’s nothing more than crumbling ruins at this point, but it must’ve been beautiful centuries ago.

… Still, you’re a little confused as to why he would bring you all the way out here just to see a dilapidated temple.

“Is there a specific reason why you brought us here?”

“Nothing really, other than that it has quite a long history.”

“I didn’t take you for the scholarly type, Ena.”

“Shut up.”

You begin to curiously explore the temple. Parts of it are locked behind gates and no matter what you do, you can’t get them to budge. You manage to climb over some walls onto what appears to be the stairs and take a seat there. From here, you have a better view of the temple and you try to piece together what it used to look like. Eventually, you come to the realization that it must’ve resembled an amphitheater.

Meanwhile, Ena strides across the arena and comes to a stop, facing the sea. His coming here was purely for selfish reasons.

This was where I first met you. I was on a mission in Mondstadt to investigate some strange occurrences that had been happening. Back then, you were still a student in the Akademiya researching these ruins. We had run into each other accidentally and immediately started arguing over some petty matter and were practically at each other’s throats.

He looks over his shoulder to see you attempting to scale a pillar to reach the elemental monument above and quietly laughs at the sight. He’s glad that you can’t see the fond smile stretching across his face.

You’re still the same fool now as you were back then. Some things in life never change, do they?

On another day, he brings you to Starsnatch Cliff late at night. You grumble and curse at him for disturbing your sleep the entire time, to which he tells you to shut up after being chased by monsters several times.

(You keep your mouth shut after that.)

Ena uses his Anemo vision to quickly fly to the edge of the cliff and avoid the grueling upwards hike. You, on the other hand, are forced to make the trek and arrive several minutes later, panting in exhaustion.

“You’re too slow.”

“Not my fault that I don’t have a handy vision to help me out,” you snap back as you take a seat next to him. The cool evening breeze tickles your skin and you lie on your back to see the stars and the moon. There’s not a single cloud in the sky and you can see the arm of the galaxy that stretches across the night sky in a twinkling display of stars and stardust.

“Now I see why you dragged me out this late. The view is beautiful.”

“I told you.”

You glare at him in response and begin picking the Cecilia flowers that grow on the cliff to make a flower crown with them. Ena only rolls his eyes at the action and lies down to look at the sky.

The second time I met you was here, not long after our first encounter. You were doing the same thing- making flower crowns. When I asked you what you were doing, you gave it to me. Quite the bold move, considering I could’ve ended your life at any moment. Although…

He looks back at you lying sprawled out like a starfish in the grass and holding the finished flower crown in your hands. Your eyes meet his gaze and you wordlessly place it on his head. You giggle at the sight and the blush that creeps across his face as he glares at it.

“It suits you! You look even prettier with it.”

Your eyes shine with a mix of amusement and adoration. To Ena, your smile rivals the brilliance of the moon above and he swears he can feel his heart skip a beat all over again.

Although, how could I have even considered that thought? Especially when you looked at me back then the same way you do now?

Midway through your stay in Mondstadt, he brings you to the famed Angel’s Share for some drinks while subsequently making fun of your inability to hold your alcohol.

“What, can’t even handle wine?”

“Shut up,” you cough out- or rather, slur out with the alcohol getting to you. A blue-haired man sitting at the other end of the table pretends to not hear you, but you can see his shoulders shaking as he tries to stifle his laughs.

With the sweet taste of the tavern’s renowned Dandelion Wine, you didn’t expect it to pack that much of a punch. Your face is already flushed and you can feel just how unbearably warm you are. With a groan, you rest your head against the cool surface of the table and sigh in relief. Ena rolls his eyes and finishes the rest of your drink in one go.

“Seriously, how are you still fine after all of those drinks you had? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have an inhuman alcohol tolerance,” you grumble.

A thin glass of apple cider is placed in front of you by the bartender. You instantly recognize it as a drink for sobering up and Ena cackles at the realization scrawled all over your face.

“Come on. Finish that and we’ll go back to our place.”

He ends up having to carry you on his back. You passed out while you were still in the bar and now you’re sleeping peacefully, occasionally mumbling nonsensical things as you dream. Ena grumbles and curses you out all the while, but it lacks any real scorn.

Many months later, I came back to Mondstadt and found you in a drunken stupor here. You had just dropped out of the Akademiya and were worried about what you’d do now and dreaded having to return to Sumeru. You had drunk so much that you passed out and I ended up having to carry you back to your place.

He looks back at your sleeping figure and sighs.

“The past likes to repeat itself, huh? And your alcohol tolerance hasn’t improved one bit since then.”

Really, it made for a comical sight. The Sixth Fatui Harbinger, capable of striking fear into the hearts of the masses, carrying an Akademiya dropout who’d cried and drank themselves to sleep back to their house like some sort of gentleman? Most people would laugh at that.

His hand grasps yours as he looks back on the past that only he remembers now.

Lost in thought, he misses how you gently squeeze his hand in return.

On the very last day of your stay in Mondstadt, Ena waits until sunset to drag you to the Church of Favonius. He carefully led you around the vigilant eyes of the Knights and passersby until you were at the back of the church. You weren’t expecting this to be your final stop and you stare at him, confused.

“Just trust me, ok?”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he scoops you up into his arms and soars into the air with the help of his vision.

“Wha-hey!” you shout as you nervously flail around. “What’re you doing?”

“Be quiet!” he hisses. “Do you want people to hear us?”

Ena quickly sets you down on a ledge atop a spire and you go silent. From here, you have a perfect view over all of Mondstadt, from the sprawling city before you all the way out to the great oak tree in Windrise and the Statue of the Seven shining beneath it, and everything in between. The skies are clear and Mondstadt is bathed in a rosy pink glow.

“Don’t fall off now,” he teases as you lean forward.

“How did you find this spot?” you ask. He looks off to the side as if embarrassed to admit the truth.

“I saw the Traveler and a girl in red up here one day. They seemed to be enjoying the view so I stowed the idea away for later.”

That was half the truth. Not like you’d remember the other half of it anyway.

You were awfully persistent back then, he thinks as he watches you sneeze when a cluster of dandelion seeds blow past, carried along by the winds. Hanging around with a Fatui Harbinger like it was nothing and having the gall to talk to me like we were equals. I seriously thought you had no sense of danger back then. Or maybe you just had a death wish.

One day, you had offhandedly told me that a view over all of Mondstadt could be seen atop the spires of the Church of Favonius. The look in your eyes implied that you wanted to see it for yourself. You thought it was a great idea. I thought you were insane.

But I managed to make it work after happening to see someone else do it. Late at night, we snuck up here together to go stargazing. We had a beautiful view that night. The sky was clear and all the stars were visible. But it wasn’t the sky or the stars that caught my attention- it was the look in your eyes.

For a moment, I saw everything I ever wanted reflected in them.

You swing your legs in contentment as a flock of birds flies past you. Ena eyes you nervously as you sit precariously close to the edge and reaches out to gently grasp your wrist.

“... Is something the matter?”

“You’re sitting too close to the ledge. Move back a bit.”

“Didn’t know you were such a mother hen.” But you do as he says.

You gaze upon him fondly and there it is again- the look that stole his heart. You looked at him as if he was your entire world. He would do anything to have you look at him like that for just a little while longer.

“(Name)?”

“Yes?”

“Can we stay like this just a little longer?”

“Of course.”

The sky begins to darken and the temperature starts to drop. The people of Mondstadt gradually head home one by one until the streets are deserted, but above it all, you and Ena are lost in your own world- one that only he now remembers.

The seasons have changed. Summer has faded and it’s colder now. The days are shorter, much to your displeasure. Almost all vegetation has died out- the tree branches are stripped bare of leaves and a light dusting of snow from earlier covers the ground. There’s a light crunching sound as you walk, leaving footprints behind.

You shiver as a cold breeze passes by and without missing a beat, Ena gives you his scarf. He wraps it around you and tightens it securely before tugging at your coat zipper to make sure it’s zipped up all the way. He nods in satisfaction.

“Keep it. You need it more.”

You pass by a Statue of the Seven and head down some ice-coated stone steps. The horizon is bright and as you look up from the ground, you see why. Liyue Harbor is aglow with warm orange lights and countless paper lanterns float in the air, scattered throughout the sky.

Ena looks over your shoulder at the glowing port.

“We’re in luck. We made it just in time for the Lantern Rite.”

You hear a smidge of smugness in his voice.

“In luck, you say? Something tells me you planned this,” you tease. Already, you can feel a rush of excitement bubbling up as you grab him by the wrist and pull him along with you toward the city.

“Who knows? Maybe I did.”

The entire harbor is decorated for Liyue’s biggest festival of the year. Red paper lanterns and bundles of firecrackers hang at the corners of businesses and houses alike. Spring couplets and squares of red paper with the character for “fortune” are pasted onto doors everywhere you look. A group of children runs past you waving sparklers to celebrate and the mother of one opens the door to call her child in for dinner.

A storyteller tells the tale of how the Lantern Rite came to be as you run through the stone streets. Aided by the folding screen behind him that depicts a panorama of Liyue in the past, his rich voice and reenactments of scenes captivate his starry-eyed audience that hangs onto every word. An amber-eyed man listens intently, a peaceful expression washing over his handsome face as if he is recalling pleasant memories of days gone by. The sweet scents of steamed rice, caramelized sugars and smoke, and various fragrant spices hit your nose as you pass by a restaurant across the street with a long line of people waiting to order outside. A girl with short blue hair runs out of the kitchen, carrying several plates of food to the establishment with the storyteller.

“Excuse me! Coming through!”

A small stall wedged in the space between the restaurant and another building harks its goods to passersby.

“Cheap and tasty chop suey! Special Lantern Rite deal- half off of everything!”

The path curves down from there, leading to the shipping and loading docks of the port. You go past that toward where everyone is gathered. You gasp and momentarily, you go speechless. It’s simply gorgeous. You have no other way to describe it.

Lotus-shaped lights illuminate the pathway and golden lanterns are strung about, bathing you and Ena in an orange glow. Parasols of every shape and color hang from the scaffolding above, casting shades of color across your faces. An old man off to the side adds some last-minute touches to the giant puppet head that will be used for tonight’s dragon dance. You catch a glimpse of it as you pass by and it is a true labor of love, painstakingly crafted down to the tiniest detail. The performers for said dance rehearse the complicated choreography to your left, running in circles and weaving in and out of each other to the point where your eyes hurt from watching. Stalls and vendors sell a variety of goods- street food, paper lanterns to release into the sky, firecrackers, decorations, toys for children, and flowers with auspicious meanings among many other things.

The heavy crowds and sounds of cheer and festivities make you almost forget about the chilling mid-winter cold. Ena disappears for a second and reappears with a bundle of flowers that he swiftly tucks behind your ear.

“Hmm? What flower is this?”

“They’re peach blossoms.”

You shoot a glance at the pale pink blossoms and smile as a thank-you before returning back to the celebration. He stifles a laugh upon your reaction. Clearly, you were unaware of the symbolism behind the flowers.

Peach blossoms symbolize romance. It’s often gifted by young people, as they believe it will bring romantic luck.

(He mentally thanks Nahida for forcing him to go to school. Some of the stuff he learned there was actually helping him.)

To your right, two girls perform on an illuminated stage, one singing while the other plays the guitar to the thunderous applause of the audience. You sneak past the crowd to admire the Mingxiao lantern the size of a parade float that towers above everyone behind the stage. It depicts a gold and red goose (an Adeptus?) taking to the skies, with the jagged peaks of Liyue in blue behind it. A yellow whole moon partially hides behind the tallest one and wisps of fog obscure the ground and lazily wind around the mountaintops.

The energy of the crowd has been palpable ever since you got here, but it increases now as you look toward where everyone else’s gaze is directed at- the sky.

“Hurry, it’s about to start!”

“Over here, over here! I saved this spot before anyone else could get it!”

Mere moments later, a loud boom goes off and an orange firework explodes in the sky. Then another one. And another one. The fireworks show has started and while they are beautiful, you’re having a difficult time enjoying it while everyone else is jostling for a view. Unfortunately, that means you can’t see much of anything either…

You feel a sharp tug at your wrist and look back to see Ena trying to squeeze his way through the crowd without losing his hat and being crushed alive.

“I know of a spot. Follow me!”

With much difficulty and after almost getting your ribs crushed, you break free of the crowd. Ena hoists you onto his shoulders and speeds through the now-empty streets with the help of his vision, carefully avoiding the Millileth stationed.

“You seem to be enjoying this position,” you offhandedly comment as he squeezes your thighs.

“It’s one of the only ways I can get your lazy ass places,” he says, like the liar he is.

(He secretly just likes the feeling of your thighs around his neck.)

He comes to a stop atop a building on the outskirts of the city and from here, you have a perfect view of the fireworks. Some whirl into a spiral while others slowly shoot straight up as they explode in a glittering multicolored shower. Some fireworks tumble like a waterfall and others pepper the sky in rapid flashes of light that have you seeing stars afterward.

“Isn’t what we’re doing right now technically illegal?” you ask while still keeping your eyes on the firework display. He laughs and you can practically imagine him rolling his eyes.

“Would you rather be here or before where we were practically suffocating to death?”

You laugh as well with a smile on your face. Ena squeezes your hand in his (when did that get there?) while he pulls something out. You look away from the show to see him place a red and gold metal canister between you two. It’s rather similar to the fireworks launchers you saw in the city…

“Ena, don’t tell me you-”

“What, it’s not like they’re going to notice one gone! They’ve got a bunch to spare anyway.”

He motions for you to move away from the canister and pulls out a bamboo tube with a conical cap mounted to a stick. He strikes a match and after lighting the fuse, sticks it into the mortar and moves away. You both cover your ears and after a few seconds, it shoots out with a high-pitched whistling sound before exploding in a golden display that resembles the branches of a weeping willow tree.

“Did you steal the fireworks too?” you ask with a wide grin on your face. He scowls at the question and begins to prepare another one for launch.

“No. I bought them,” he grumbles. The next firework exits the mortar and explodes in the sky. It resembles a white chrysanthemum.

You’ve all but forgotten about the official show as you take turns launching fireworks and creating your own (illegal) display. The official show may be more flashy, but yours has a magic of its own that can’t be recreated.

“Aw, how cute! This firework is shaped like a heart!” you exclaim as you watch it scatter in a shower of pink sparkles. The amount of fireworks being launched from the harbor suddenly increases and you realize it must be the grand finale already.

Ena pulls something out again. Two Mingxiao lanterns. He passes one to you along with a brush and some ink.

“The people of Liyue have a tradition of writing riddles on lanterns during the Lantern Rite,” he explains upon seeing your confusion. “Write whatever you’d like- it doesn’t have to be a riddle- and once the fireworks are over, we’ll release them into the sky, ok?”

He watches you frown and mull over what you want to write, face scrunching up into various expressions of contemplation and hesitation. He internally laughs at the sight before returning to his lantern, brush gliding over the paper with confidence.

I wish for (Name) to accept me for who I am.

And as the last of the fireworks explode in the sky, you and Ena release your lanterns in unison, soaring into the sky and joining the lanterns of everyone else. You lean against his shoulder (when did the distance between you two get so close?) and gaze at your lanterns drifting away.

“What did you wish for?” you ask.

“It’s a secret. I’m not telling you.”

“Fine. I’m not telling you mine either.”

You silently laugh to yourself. You had gotten a glimpse of what he was writing and while it may have been written in the old Inazuman script (most likely to confuse your prying eyes), you were still a former Akademiya student and you still had a decent knowledge of languages. The Inazuman language was one you were proficient in before you dropped out and you could get the general idea of his wish written onto the lantern.

How cute.

And as for what you wrote?

Ena couldn’t help but peek when you were writing. With the light of the fireworks, he had seen what you were written and a long-forgotten emotion erupted in his newly-acquired heart.

I wish for Ena to receive the love he deserves.

The last nation he takes you to is Inazuma.

You had spent a few months in Liyue until the weather warmed up, discovering everything the nation had to offer. You had ventured into the Adepti’s abode in Jueyun Karst, visited the famed turquoise waters of Luhua Pool, and explored the countless ancient ruins scattered throughout the land. At one point, with a letter from the Traveler and special clearance from the Millelith, he takes you to the Chasm. There, you had carefully crossed the creaky wooden walkways with high winds whipping you around and had scaled the high peaks covered with ochre grass and trees with crimson-colored leaves. The gaping maw in the center leading to the Underground Mines had tempted you and there you had stayed for a while, staring down into it.

(He contemplated bringing you there because it had a beauty of its own, but ultimately decided against it due to how dangerous it was.)

Now docked at Ritou Harbor after a long passage across the sea, Ena watches as the sleep disappears from your eyes, only to be replaced by wonder as you take in the silent harbor that is beginning to stir. Ships are anchored along the pier and unloaded. The fishermen are coming back as the sun rises above the horizon and are laying out their catch to sell. Purple banners planted along the boardwalk that are emblazoned with the Electro mitsudomoe proudly signify the reign of the Shogun. Maple trees dot the landscape and Mt. Yougou towers above in the distance with a faint green light emanating from it.

Ena’s eyes narrow and he bites his lip at the familiar sights. Returning to his homeland left him feeling conflicted and while nobody would remember him- namely, the Shogun- unpleasant memories still resurfaced. His abandonment, the place he once called home, and especially now, the regret and rage that fills him as he recalls those he considered family and Dottore who twisted the truth into a lie, ruining his life.

But he casts his thoughts aside. His past no longer defined who he was, especially at this moment. Besides, this was your first time in Inazuma. What kind of tour guide would he be if he couldn’t cast his own prejudices aside?

Long ago, when he was still in the Fatui, you had asked him about his origins.

“Scara, you’re from Inazuma, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the nation. Can you take me there someday?”

“Once the situation there clears up, sure.”

He was never able to fulfill that promise with his previous self. Now, he could finally be true to his word, even if you could no longer remember.

Narukami Island dazzles you with its splendor and tradition everywhere you look. Sakura blooms drift along the warm spring breezes in Inazuma City as you pass by stores selling elaborate kimonos and blacksmiths continuing the art of forging that had been passed down for centuries. Ena proves himself to be quite the knowledgeable tour guide, pointing out cultural relics and small facts that you wouldn’t have known otherwise.

Early on in your stay, Ena pays a visit to the Statue of the Omnipresent God near Tenshukaku. He just… stands there. And gazes up at it. In the short time there, a lifetime of emotions crossed his face. Betrayal, wrath, denial, emptiness, regret, and even acceptance.

(You notice that the statue doesn’t look like the Electro Archon at all. What could it possibly be here for then?)

“Let’s go.”

With a light tug at your wrist and a final glance back at Tenshukaku, he leads you ahead without another look back.

The main attraction aside from the city is the Grand Narukami Shrine. From what you’ve heard, the trek there is long and arduous but worth it for its beauty and view over Inazuma. Ena leads you there through Chinju Forest which takes you onto the shortest route. The forest is tranquil and you hear the sound of running water from the large stream cutting through the forest. Blue flowers glow underneath the moonlight in large clumps and tanuki statues are found everywhere. Red torii gates are scattered throughout and mark pathways.

While the forest is beautiful, it’s also a little eerie. The lack of light and silence creeps you out and Ena has the brilliant idea to tell you ghost stories here, of all places.

“There’s a legend of a yokai that lurks in the forest around here,” he begins. “Care to hear the tale?”

You swat at his arm to silence him. He dodges your hand quickly and smiles impishly at you.

“What? Scared already?”

“Shut up.”

You leave the forest, refusing to speak to Ena and ignoring all of his purposeful attempts to rile you up. A blue-haired girl and her brother stand at the entrance to the lavish estate to your right. She pulls out her folding fan, covering the smile on her face at your petty arguments.

The path leading to the shrine is an arduous trek and not to mention slippery, as it had rained the day before. He has to help you up in some parts where there are no stairs, lest you slip and fall. The steps are steep and the path winding around the mountain seems never-ending. After much grumbling and pleading on your part, Ena finally agrees to carry you on his back.

“Thank you…”

“Stop being lazy,” he retorts. You rest your cheek against his shoulder and he immediately goes silent. Your hand brushes against his and in an uncharacteristically bold move, Ena grasps it and squeezes lightly. A light giggle escapes you. His hand is delicate and soft against yours, much like a doll’s.

At that moment, he’s glad you can’t see the blush dusting his cheeks.

But the rumors were right- the view is indeed gorgeous from here. Ena stops at one point and you peer over his shoulder to see the landscape of Inazuma. Jagged boulders float in midair with sakura trees planted for decoration and lanterns to aid shrine-goers in the dead of night. The vast blue sea that seals off Inazuma from the rest of the world stretches as far as the eye can see with several smaller islands and shipwrecks dotting the landscape. Chōchin lanterns hang from the branches of trees, swaying lightly in the wind and scattering sakura petals. Some red foxes are resting at the bottom of the stairs and come up to cautiously sniff at Ena. He leans down to pet them for a bit, allowing you to do the same, before continuing.

As you ascend the stairs winding around the mountain, you pass through countless torii gates with red tōrō lanterns and shoji lamps decorated with the symbol of the shrine flanking your sides and realize the shrine must be just up ahead. And indeed, that hypothesis proves to be true as Ena finishes climbing the last set of stairs and stops in front of the shrine. He takes his hat off and you hop off his back.

The shrine is awe-inspiring. It’s larger than you thought it’d be and built from red lacquered wood with chōchin lanterns hanging from the eaves of the roof. Two thick shimenawa ropes with shide papers attached to them stretch across the entrance and the small body of water the shrine is built upon reflects the early morning sky above. Sessha shrines line the outskirts with various offerings and resemble miniature versions of the Grand Narukami Shrine.

As you take in the sights of the shrine and the view of Inazuma from above, Ena looks around cautiously, hoping that a certain meddling pink kitsune wouldn’t show up.

What a nuisance that’d be, he thinks as he squints against the sun’s rays. He quickly picks up on your confusion as you look around, unsure of what to do.

“Relax,” he says, taking your hand in his. “I’ll guide you through the whole process.”

Ena leads you through everything, from purification to burning incense. At that stage, he had asked you if you had any injuries. You had looked at him strangely and he explained that some people fan the smoke toward themselves for healing purposes.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you said. “But I’m fine, so there’s no need to.”

You miss how he fans the smoke toward his heart when you turn away. He stares at his Anemo vision for a split second before returning to your side.

You’re staring at the large bell attached to a bundle of multicolored cords hanging from the ceiling. He steps forward and shakes it, making the bell chime loudly. You watch closely as he drops some Mora into the offertory box before bowing twice, clapping twice, and then standing straight with his hands joined in a prayer position. You then do the same, albeit with less confidence.

“Hey,” you whisper. He peeks an eye open. “What do I pray for?”

“Anything,” he whispers back. “Good health, fortune, success at school-”

You roll your eyes.

“- or even luck in romantic relationships.”

You look off to the side at that one, hoping he doesn’t see how the tips of your ears are flushed.

Ena closes his eyes again and thinks for a bit about what else to pray for. He had already wished for acceptance from you during the Lantern Rite. Just now, he had prayed for your health and the safety of Sumeru, along with wishes of well-being for Lesser Lord Kusanali. What else was there?

(He had contemplated praying for Dottore’s downfall but ultimately decided that wouldn’t be appropriate within a shrine setting.)

Pray for (Name) to fall in love with you again, says the voice in his head. You did tell them that praying for romantic luck was common among shrine-goers, so why not do that yourself?

Ah.

Ena feels his face heat up and his heart starts pounding rapidly. With a light shake of his head, he clears his mind.

I wish for (Name) to fall in love with me again. I have already lost Niwa, Katsuragi, the rest of my family in Tatarasuna, and the fledgling child who was just like me long ago. After wandering across the world for several centuries, I long for a place to call home now.

Archons above, I am a changed man now. Please, allow me to have the simple joys of love and solace.

Your trip is nearing its end. The days are much longer now and the weather considerably, almost unbearably at times, warmer.

Now in the last leg of your journey, Ena gazes out at the sea aboard the boat carrying him to your last destination, Kannazuka Island. The last time he went back to Inazuma was during the Vision Hunt Decree to retrieve the Electro Gnosis and that was on orders from the Tsaritsa, plus that was restricted to Narukami Island only. Ever since the disaster that had befallen Tatarasuna, he hadn’t gone back out of fear and shame.

And that is who he really is. A man who was ashamed of his past and afraid of witnessing the consequences of his actions. Ignorance is bliss, yet that belief was unable to prevent the shield of scorn and egotism he had built up for himself from crumbling down in an instant in Sumeru, the cracks that had been forming for a long time now exposed and the truth finally revealed.

How pathetic, mocks the voice in his head that never seems to go away- perhaps the only remnant of his former self. Look at who you’ve become. How weak. What a disappointment. Such activities are beneath you, yet why do you indulge them with your divine presence?

Shut it, he thinks. Enough of you. My roots may be divine, but they have no influence on who I am today. I am a different person now, whether you like it or not.

Ena looks around him and sighs. He had sworn to never return to this nation that he harbored only bitterness and bad memories toward. He had cursed the Archon’s name and denounced her reign, laughed at her frivolous pursuit of eternity, yet here he was once again.

The prodigal son had finally made a return home.

Love really makes people weak, doesn’t it?

The boat gently comes to a stop against the shoreline of Nazuchi Beach. Rotting shipwrecks and driftwood litter the white sands and warm shallow waters. Faded and frayed war banners lie half-buried in the sand with arrowheads embedded everywhere you look- the only remains of the several bloody wars that were waged here.

You hop off the boat, eager to explore what lies ahead, while Ena lingers for a bit to gather his thoughts. Already, he can see the familiar silhouette of the furnace and its purple glow in the distance. An unfamiliar feeling of dread settles in his stomach, twisting and turning anxiously. But dallying and wasting time will not change the outcome of anything.

And so with bated breath, he leads the way. Passing through the entrance that leads to Tatarasuna, the full scale of the site becomes apparent. In the middle, a floating rock formation hovers above the water and is linked to the rest of the island via walkways that are now rotting and falling apart. A strange purple glow radiates from the center. The houses built have long since been abandoned, their windows dark and empty. Hovering above it all is the Mikage Furnace. Although it was shut down a long time ago, small sparks of Electro are still intermittently emitted from it.

The ancient machinery quietly creaks in the wind. The air feels electric with the heavy concentration of Electro energy present, making his hair stand on end. Carts filled with iron ore lie off to the side, looking as if they were haphazardly abandoned. He can’t help but feel a little remorseful at the sorry state the place is in now.

There is one last task for him to finish here- one that he should have completed long ago.

Better late than never, he thinks as he rummages around for a sword of some sort that may have been miraculously left behind. Most of what was here has been pillaged by the Fatui; he recognizes their handiwork- sloppy and inconsiderate, but by a stroke of luck, he finds one.

Meanwhile, you investigate what’s nearby. Soon into your investigation, you find some yellowed notes scattered about. The age of the notes has made the words rather difficult to decipher and the elements have worn away much of the original content.

… We at last made a single nagamaki. We call it the Daitatara Nagamasa. The Inspector was in high spirits, and he and the Vice Armory Officer… Nozomu was so taken by the beauty of the Daitatara Nagamasa that he drew a picture of it.

The Inspector flew into a rage and slashed Katsuragi. The great blade cut deep into the flesh… cast his own nagamaki into the furnace’s flame… Nozomu could not abide by that order, and drew the completely melted weapon out of the furnace… He was horribly burned.

… Nozomu died that night. I daresay that while Sir Katsuragi may have committed malfeasance, it was out of the goodness of his heart.

“(Name), can you go pick some flowers for me?”

His question comes suddenly and unexpectedly. You look up from the notes you are reading. He holds a rusted sword in his hand and gives it a few experimental swings. You soundlessly nod and disappear.

There are some old polishing stones lying beneath a table and he gets to work. It’s the first time he’s touched a blade in 500 years, yet in his mind, he’s transported back to the moment he learned how to forge and polish swords under the watch of Niwa and the others. Their gentle guidance from ages ago resurfaces, guiding him through the sacred process. Bit by bit, the rust is scrubbed away and its original sheen is restored. It is difficult work, but it’s cathartic. It feels like he’s making amends for his past actions.

After wiping away the last few drops of water, the sword is now finished. It shines brilliantly without a speck of rust showing. The handguard and hilt have been cleaned thoroughly and it looks as good as new.

Ena walks over to a grassy spot near the water and digs a small hole, where he places a few items before covering it up again. Some small candies, cigarettes, six coins for safe passage to the afterlife, a white kimono, and a pair of sandals.

He drives the sword into the soft earth. He tugs it a few times to ensure it won’t budge before pulling out some sticks of incense and lighting them. The woody smell with hints of spice and resin is carried through the air.

On your way back now, you smell something spicy and familiar drifting from the direction of the furnace.

Incense?

“I’m back now,” you call out. “What did you need these-”

The lit incense sticks, the sword stuck in the ground, his head bowed. The realization hits you instantly.

So this is why he asked me to gather flowers. It’s a memorial- a grave.

Dendrobiums, stalks of Naku Weed, Sea Ganodermas you had harvested in the shallow beach waters, and deposits of Crystal Marrow are arranged around the symbolic tomb in the best flower arrangement your limited skills could make.

“Thank you,” he whispers as you kneel next to him.

“Who is it for?”

“Everyone,” he says, gesturing around him. “It’s for everyone who was here.”

Ena looks up from the ground and for a second, he thinks he’s gone back in time. The sun shines, bathing the abandoned mine in golden light. The fires in the furnace are stoked and plumes of smoke drift out of the tall chimney. Katsuragi smelts the red-hot steel in the tatara while Niwa hammers and folds the cooling metal. The residents of Tatarasuna, people from all walks of life, children and elders alike, live their lives with joy and pride.

Ah, it’s been so long since he’s last seen them, yet he can still remember their faces clearly as if he never left.

One of them- a child- sees him out of the corner of his eye. He says something- no words can be heard but Ena reads his lips.

Look, Kabukimono is back!

One by one, the rest of the residents take notice of him. They each bear varied expressions on their faces weathered by hard work- some cover their mouths with their eyes blown wide in surprise, others heave a deep sigh of relief with smiles stretching across their faces, while others have tears of joy prickling at the corners of their eyes.

Archons, it’s been so long since I’ve last seen him.

Tell us what you’ve been up to lately! I’m sure you have many stories to share.

My, look at how handsome he is now!

The ward we took in has now finally grown up.

It makes me so proud to see him like this.

There’s a tight feeling in his chest as he stumbles forward toward the sea of familiar faces, beckoning him with warm smiles and welcoming arms. He lurches forward again, and three pairs of warm hands as fleeting as a feather lightly brush over his shoulder, steadying him. Looking up, he sees the familiar faces of Niwa, Katsuragi, and Nagamasa. They beam at him, not a hint of betrayal or anger present in their smiles.

Ena’s heart seizes up in his chest. What does he say in a situation like this?

Did you find your heart at last?

“... Yes,” he finally answers.

“It was here all along.”

We’ve missed you.

Crying is for the weak. It is a useless display of emotions. That is what he has told himself repeatedly throughout his life.

And yet, he can’t help the tears that threaten to spill over.

He rushes forward, longing for one last chance to make amends. They surround him in a warm embrace, murmuring words of reassurance as the tears finally spill over.

“I’m sorry!” he chokes out. “I should have been there! I shouldn’t have run away!”

A strong gust of wind blows through the clearing and the ghosts of Tatarasuna waver, their images beginning to fade and dissipate in specks of golden light.

His blood runs cold in terror.

No, not yet! There’s still so much I want to say- so much I want to apologize for!

The sound of gentle laughter is carried along with the wind and as the last of their shimmering visages fade away, he hears their final words.

What do you mean, Kabukimono?

We forgave you long ago.

It was never your fault to begin with.

You are our pride and joy.

This is goodbye now. But we, the residents of Tatarasuna you considered family, will always be with you.

We can now move on safely to the afterlife.

We can now rest after seeing our little Kabukimono at peace with himself.

Thank you for returning home one last time.

The last of their afterimages vanish, leaving nothing behind. The sun retreats behind the clouds once more, the clearing now cloudy as it was before. But at last, Ena feels at peace- as if a great burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders. The unfinished task from centuries ago had finally been completed.

“Let’s go home now, (Name).”

Ena has been acting strange lately.

On the way back, he kept pacing back and forth. He had kept toying with his Anemo vision and staring at the sky. When he thought you were asleep, he would hold you tightly in his arms as if he was afraid to lose you. You would catch him with his hands clasped together and praying when he thought you weren’t looking.

But praying to who exactly?

At last, you are at home in Sumeru again. It is late at night now, and the streets are silent. Most of the residents are asleep except for a few late-night stragglers coming home from work or the tavern. That night, you fell into a deep sleep and for the first time ever since you were a child, you dreamt.

But much to your surprise, you see Ena and Lesser Lord Kusanali in your dream soon after falling asleep. This feels vaguely familiar and something tells you this was done on purpose.

“Welcome back,” she says. “How was your trip?”

“Fine. I enjoyed it,” he responds.

She giggles. “That’s good to hear. I take it that your goal is complete and that you got to tie up some loose ends?”

“You could say that.”

The little Archon turns her attention to you now. Her eyes peer at you curiously and you get the vague feeling that she can read your mind.

“You must be (Name). You’re a smart cookie- smarter than people give you credit for. I’m sure you’ve wondered what you and Ena are to each other at least once by now.”

“There’s been a few hints dropped here and there throughout our journey that made me question the nature of our relationship or who we once were,” you admit.

“But I can’t help but wonder what happened to… ”

You gesture at the space between you and Ena.

“... Us?”

A translucent green box materializes between her hands. It glows and floats, emitting specks of Dendro energy intermittently.

“Please suspend disbelief for a moment, as what I’m about to say may sound unrealistic. This box you see here is a copy of his memories from his creation up until recently. It contains the true, unaltered version of history.”

Creation? Copy of his memories? The unaltered version of history?

A thousand questions swirl inside your mind, waiting to be asked, yet they all dissipate at her next question.

“Do you wish to remember the past?”

You hesitantly look at Ena. He turns away as if he is ashamed of meeting your gaze.

“This decision is all up to you,” she adds. “Rest assured that whatever you choose will not affect your relationship with Ena. He has told me that himself.

“But please bear in mind that in his past life, Ena was what many would consider as ‘evil’. He had committed countless crimes and many people had died because of him. With this preface, do you still wish to remember the past?”

You glance at Ena again, who is still avoiding your gaze. The delicate balance of your relationship hangs on the line. Was it even worth knowing the truth? You were perfectly content with the way things were as of now.

… But the voice in the back of your head urges you to dig deeper and uncover the truth.

“I still do. Please, show me everything.”

Ena winces slightly, bracing himself for the worst.

“Very well then.”

The green box slowly drifts toward you before suddenly slamming into your chest. You let out a choked gasp, your vision slowly going dark as all his memories begin to flood your mind. The last thing you hear is Ena’s concerned question.

“Will they be alright?”

“It’s the same as when you regained your memories,” replies Lesser Lord Kusanali. “They’ll be in for a shock but will ultimately emerge with a newfound understanding of who you are.”

“Set him free?”

“A puppet? What’s he doing here…”

“You’re a human as far as I’m concerned.”

“What a fine blade! Nagamasa will be thrilled.”

“He took it straight from the chest of one of his innocent servants.”

“What a joke… it’s just ashes… nothing left but ashes.”

“Are you deaf or just stupid?”

“Hey!”

That’s the sound of your own voice. In the midst of his memory space, you freeze. The version of yourself you see is one from several years ago, back when you were still in the Akademiya. The sight of the green uniform and beret sends a wave of nostalgia through your heart. Ena resembles the version of himself you saw in the photo at your house- dressed in shades of dark purple and black with accents of red and gold.

“What did you want to tell me? You dragged me out here late at night so it better be worth-”

“I hate you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hate you,” he repeated. “Everything about you annoys me greatly. You can’t handle your alcohol, yet you still insist on having drinks every week. I can’t tell if you’re idiotic or-”

“It’s Mondstadt, what else am I supposed to do here? And why is it that you carry me home on your back each time without fail?”

“Because you’d look pretty pathetic otherwise. I’d get secondhand embarrassment if I didn’t do something about it.”

You rolled your eyes at his remarks.

“Your taste in music sucks and you always have the strangest ideas. Seriously, where do you even come up with-”

“If you think they’re so strange, then why did you agree to dance with me in the town square yesterday? Entertain my silly idea of participating in the festival that was happening last week even though, in your opinion, you thought it was ‘stupid and a waste of time?’ Although, it looked like you were having fun as well…”

“...That’s beside the point. You also talk too much. It hurts my ears just listening to you sometimes.”

“Is that why you were glaring at the guy I was chatting with the other day?”

“No- I mean, yes.”

The look on your face tells him you don’t believe his blatant lie one bit.

“I can’t think properly when you’re around me,” he snapped in an attempt to change the subject. “You make me feel strange and I hate it. Whenever your eyes linger on me, I feel strangely exposed. When you touch me, my skin burns and I can’t breathe for some strange reason. You wear your heart on your sleeve but you’re also difficult to understand. I can’t figure you out for the life of me. You cry and laugh when you’re mad, but when you’re actually upset, you hide your tears and go silent. You’re a walking contradiction, which makes me even more confused as to why I feel this- hey, why are you laughing?”

He glared at your figure shaking with laughter and a clear expression of understanding written all over your face.

“Nothing, it’s just… I think we both know why you’re feeling this way, Scara,” you whispered as you leaned in to cup his cheek. He shied away from your touch but still accepted it.

“Don’t make me say it,” he grumbled quietly. “It’s embarrassing.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand cradling his cheek.

“But it’s the truth, is it not? In that case, what is there to be embarrassed about?”

“But…”

You’re so close to him that he could feel the soft exhale of your breath tickle his cheek. He looked away, avoiding eye contact with you, but he could still feel your burning gaze of adoration on his skin.

“Say it,” you breathed. “I want to hear you say those three words, Scara.”

“... You are the one I hold dearest to my heart,” he finally whispered. “You are my first and only love.”

The gap between you closes. He saw the moonlight reflected in your irises clearly and your eyes glimmering with hope, heard the way your breath hitched in anticipation. As his lips brushed against yours, he finally whispered those three words you’d been longing to hear.

“I love you.”

With a start, you are brought back to reality. Lesser Lord Kusanali and Ena watch you with concern in their eyes.

“Welcome back,” begins the former. “How do you feel with this newfound information?”

“A little overwhelmed,” you admit. “But everything makes much more sense now.”

You turn your attention toward Ena, who eyes you warily much like a stray cat would.

“Well then? What is your verdict?” he snaps harshly. “Going to abandon me the same way my mothe- my creator did?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

You mull over your words momentarily, wondering where even to begin.

“What do you do with a broken doll?” you finally ask. Ena looks at you strangely, like he wasn’t expecting you to open with that starter of all possible options.

“Do you fill in the cracks with gold to embrace its flaws? Paint over it to hide the defects underneath? Give it a newer and stronger shell? Or perhaps discard it entirely in favor of a new one? From what I saw, you’ve cycled through all those options haven’t you, Ena?”

He looks away.

“Like the Inazuman art of kintsugi, you tried to embrace your defects when you were still known as Kabukimono. Despite being considered flawed, you still attempted to show how beautiful and strong you could be. During your time in the Fatui when you were known as the Balladeer, you hid that part of yourself underneath a veil of arrogance, hating how weak you were despite said weakness being something your first self saw as a sign of strength more than anything. As the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom or Shouki no Kami, the Prodigal, you quite literally gave yourself a stronger shell in your attempt to ascend to godhood. But despite the grandness of it all, it was nothing more than a cheap veneer on the same self-loathing that brought everything crashing down when you were so close to everything you had ever hoped for.”

You reach your hands out and intertwine them with his.

“In such cases where all other options have failed, starting over is the best decision. The neglect and decay that have accumulated over several hundred years will be purged and a new healthy base made from only the purest of white wood will be used.”

You squeeze his hands lightly.

“Sometimes, you have to let those parts of yourself go. Otherwise, you will never obtain happiness. By discarding who you once were, you’ve healed and learned how to atone for your actions.

“You’ve changed for the better, Ena. The metaphorical blood on your hands has been washed clean. So then why should I abandon you? For abandoning you who I once loved, still love, and will continue to love means invalidating all your past struggles and how much you’ve changed. What kind of lover would I be if I did that?”

Lesser Lord Kusanali claps and smiles.

“That was a good use of metaphors, (Name). I liked it!”

Ena lets out a long sigh of relief and tips his head back. He hadn’t cried ever since his creation 500 years ago but now, he was filled with the overwhelming urge to cry. There’s a burning sensation at the back of his eyes and he fights the urge to release everything he had been holding back.

Is this what people called tears of joy?

“Thank you, (Name).”

What once was has now been rediscovered, no longer consigned to a thing of the past. That which he had longed for was now finally in his arms. Ena closes his eyes and pulls you into a hug. It’s a wonderful feeling- forgiveness and love.

Maybe, just maybe, he can now finally be at peace with himself.

#jadens reblogs (◍•ᴗ•◍)#can this become real I WANNA GIVE HIM AS MUCH LOVE AS POSSIBLE IM GONNA SCREAM #i lobe you scara

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