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carmendeiact2whenplz · 2 months

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Silly little Nameless Bard Gets Adopted fanfic

Finally decided to write the story i’ve had in my head for months. Takes *heavy* inspiration from the Found Family Deca au, developed over time via various snippets and fanarts from @decarabiandivorce and @arson-n-quwubilder, but i’ve had this idea since before then. This is my first time writing a fanfic in over a year, feel free to comment on any inconsistencies/grammar/spelling issues.

General summary- Nb breaks into the tower with wispti’s help in order to steal some intel, gets caught, and ends up getting Surprise Adopted by Decarabian. That’s it that’s the plot

Word count- ~2.5k

Things were not going as planned. If anything, they were as far from it as possible.

The plan was simple, really- Venti just had to teleport him inside the tower so he could get some intel, or at least observe the interior so he would remember it for future plans, and then the wisp would teleport itself and the bard back out, relaying any information acquired to the rebels.

But as the bard first arrived inside the tower, he felt something was off. His dearest friend didn’t have as bright a glow as it normally did, and it might have just been a trick of the unfamiliar surroundings but it almost appeared.. smaller? The rebel brushed it off, momentarily forgetting about that as he tried to find the information he was looking for.

He stumbled upon a small room filled with books on various topics, many of them useless to him, a quick scan of a fee of the pages proving their topic to be neither beneficial to the mission or to his own personal interest (but of course, if these books were available someplace more easily accessible he would have loved to read them regardless, since new information was new information), but in addition to some maps and notes he found giving some information about the tower interior, the maintenance of the storm wall, and where guards were stationed throughout the city, he also stumbled upon a few books about the outside world! He didn’t have time to properly read them, but he had to take a few glances. Stars, sunrises and sunsets, mountains and deserts, many kinds of animals and plants, including the birds he loved to sing about… all kinds of things he thought were just things made up in stories, they were not only real, but some of those could have been seen if he were to make it outside of the wall surrounding the city! Determination surged through him, looking forward to the day where Decarabian would be slain and he could finally see the skies free of the constant clouds ominously looming over them.

The bard motioned to Venti to teleport the two of them out, when the news hit him. The wisp told him that it overestimated its strength and getting them both in had used up most of its energy, making it impossible for the two of them to safely get out at the moment. The bard telepathically cursed at it, seconds before realizing that a few guards had spotted the two of them. He asked his friend if he could at least teleport the books over, to share some of the things he found with the other rebels, but the wisp shook its head and told him that carrying any additional weight wouldn’t be feasible, and could only transport itself and relay the situation the bard was in. With no other option, the wisp teleported away, and the bard formulated a new plan.

Drop the intel and make a run for it.

Right before he accidentally ran straight into one of the guards. Stumbling back, he took a few seconds to stabilize himself. Which wasn't necessary, as two more guards grabbed his arms on both sides, easily restraining him in place. They were about to drag him towards the lower levels of the tower, where he knew the jail cells were located (from prior experience), before one of them glanced towards the bright red ribbon and the white flower on his cape, their eyes widening. They said something about how “their Lord would be happy to see him”, explaining to the other guards how his hair and clothing matched the one shown on the wanted posters, the bard starting to swear as he listened to them converse, the realization hitting him hard. They knew who he was. The guards nodded in comprehension and dragged him in the other direction, towards the upper levels of the tower. The throne room, the bard registered, fear truly setting in for the first time since arriving in the tower.

—---

Which is how the bard ended up in his current situation. He was in Decarabian’s throne room, guards holding him in place, and the only way out was blocked by more guards. Great. At least Venti finally returned, but in a much worse state than before, its glow being all but nonexistent, and it was barely half the size as it was before getting them both inside the tower.

He took a moment to observe the space around him- the space was large and circular, and was easily the fanciest room he had ever been in. Intricate patterns were carved into the walls and ceiling, with evenly spaced archways separated by pillars lining the walls. There was a large stained glass window inside each archway, casting colorful lights across the floor- which was interesting, because there were no visible windows from an outside view of the tower, and the sky outside wasn’t bright enough (it was still late afternoon, but the clouds were particularly dark that day) for much light to shine through regardless. Even so, most of the room was lit by ornate chandeliers and candelabras, casting the room in an orange glow that starkly contrasted with the dark blue stone that made up many of the things in the room. A long carpet with dizzying patterns led up to a raised platform supporting a large, equally ornate throne that the bard guessed had to be made of solid gold. Sitting upon it was Decarabian himself, his golden crown resting upon his head like a halo.

“Guards, why have you brought this person here to me?” The king asked, and the bard could tell he almost sounded tired, like he wasn’t in the mood to deal with this (and neither was the bard, for that matter.) The guard standing to the right of the bard kneeled, still tightly gripping his shoulder, and answered.

“Your Highness, we have successfully captured the leader of the rebellion against you.” The guard to his left strengthened their grip as a bead of sweat formed on the rebel’s forehead. He had wanted to approach Decarabian personally, but not like this. He didn’t have any other rebellion members to help him out here, his beloved wisp had none of its powers working, he had no escape plan, no weapons…

Wait.

He suddenly remembered the small knife he kept in his pocket in case of emergencies. He tried to reach for it, when a voice interrupted him- “Are you sure you have the right person this time? This is the third time you’ve brought someone to me claiming they’re the leader of the rebellion!” Oh? This was a new piece of information for the rebel. Curiosity overtook his fear as he was intrigued by how this conversation would go. He moved his hand back upwards, hoping the guards didn’t notice, waiting for them to reply.

“But- but my lord! He perfectly matches the description of the wanted poster! Black hair, blue eyes, wears a cape-” Even from across the room the bard could hear Decarabian’s sigh. Looking closer at him, he, too, had black hair, blue eyes, and a long cape. “-Not to mention the windblume pinned to his chest, that scarf tucked around his cloak, and even that… creature he keeps around with him all that time.” The way the guard said that last part with so much disgust made his blood boil.

“Hey! That is a wind sprite, mind you! How dare you speak about my best friend like that!” The bard retaliated, but the guards seemed to be unaffected.

“He’s right, that is, in fact a wind sprite, but it seems to be in critical condition. That being said-” the king glanced at the guards with a scowl on his face. Truth be told, the bard wondered if he would smite them right then and there. “-That is not a rebellion leader. That is a child. Put him back.”

The guard (at this point, the bard realized that only one of the guards surrounding him genuinely cared about the situation, none of the others had bothered to speak yet,) gasped in outrage (and the rebel wanted to do the same, sure he wasn’t an adult yet and others have told him he looked young for his age but he was legally allowed to drink for crying out loud!) “Your majesty, surely you must be feigning ignorance? Yes he may look young, but there is clearly undeniable evidence that this bard here is the one that started all of this! Please, you have to believe me!” Did that one guard really want him punished that badly? Most of Decarabian’s guards and soldiers he had encountered so far were only following orders, and with enough luck could be persuaded into leaving the bard alone (and in rare cases, even switching sides and joining the rebellion instead), but this one in particular seemed to genuinely like Decarabian as a ruler.

The god spoke again, this time directed specifically towards the rebel. “Tell me, where are your parents?” The question came out of nowhere, taking the bard by surprise as thoughts coalesced in his mind. Why did he ask that? What did he hope to achieve by that? Where in Teyvat was this conversation going? And most importantly, how was he still alive? He allowed confusion to slip on his face, before returning to practiced neutrality. As for the question though.. The rebel’s biological parents were killed by soldiers when he was but a toddler, leaving him to fend for himself for most of his life. Although he did secretly see Amos and the Warrior as his parental guardians of sorts, there was nothing official about the whole ordeal, and even so, admitting that two of the people who helped take care of him were the god’s ex wife and former royal guard respectively wouldn’t turn out very well for him.

“I don’t have any parents,” the bard replied, using his skills as a bard to exaggerate himself, “My parents abandoned me when I was a baby and have spent my whole life living on the streets, relying on scraps of food to sustain myself.” He did live a (slightly) more comfortable life than that, but he hoped his sob story would at least make the god feel some sympathy for him.

“Interesting. Now tell me- how did you even get inside the tower in the first place?” At this the rebel got nervous again, because he knew there was no reasonable answer he could give. The tower was surrounded by a wind wall, far smaller but comparable in shape and intensity to the one that surrounded the whole city, and the only entrance was heavily guarded at all times. Even if he could make up some excuse, the guards undeniably saw him trying to steal things, so they knew he had at least some incentive of being in the tower. He was about to try to say something, spit out the first words that came to mind or try to downplay his crimes when his thoughts were interrupted.

“-That doesn’t matter. I wonder, what was your name again?” The god asked in a tone that was unexpectedly calm. He would have made up another story, pretended his lack of a name was a result of his upbringing (partially true, but it was really a deliberate choice by him), but he quickly remembered that he knew the guards knew the rebel leader as the Nameless Bard. So he did something he swore never to do- give himself a name. He took a few moments to think, then remembered how much he liked those white flowers that grew nearly everywhere in Mondstadt.

“My name is Cecil,” the bard replied, feigning confidence. If anything, he hoped he could at least throw the guards off track. Noticing the surprised expressions on their faces, it seemed to have worked.

“In that case, Cecil, I hereby declare you..” the room went silent, and fear once again overtook the bard. Was the king going to finally arrest him? Send him to the prisons for the rest of his life, strike him down here and now, execute him in public? Or gods forbid, a fate worse than that? His heartbeat thundered in his chest, hoping that no one else could hear it.

“..Adopted. You are my son now.” Cecil froze. He did not just adopt him… right? Surely this was all a cruel prank. Perhaps he was dreaming? Yes, that must have been the case, right? He procrastinated the mission for a day and was just having a nightmare about the worst-case scenarios, so his mind could better prepare for the day ahead. But then he pinched himself, and sighed in disappointment.

One of the guards glanced at Decarabian, somehow more shocked than the bard was. “My Lord, no offense, but you can’t just do that! That’s not how it works!” In turn, the god stared at him, his gaze as piercing as the winds he commanded.

“Who’s going to stop me?”

Cecil wanted to protest that, but closed his mouth before any words came out. Even if he wanted to, it’s not like he could stop him yet. He watched as the king got off his throne and headed towards the exit, noticing how instead of walking he hovered a few inches off the ground. The guards guarding the door opened them for him, and the bard couldn’t help but cringe internally when the doors slightly scraped against the ground. But as he was halfway out the door, he turned around, once again glaring at the guards with that same piercing gaze. “Guards, I am going to prepare some things for my new son, in the meanwhile please ask the chefs to treat him to some nice meals. If at any point along the way you dare to hurt him-” his eyes glowed a shade of teal comparable to Venti’s markings, and Cecil could feel the wind blowing on his face from here, “-I will not show you mercy.” And with that, the god exited the room.

The guards looked at eachother, then back to Cecil, as they let go of him and gestured for him to get out of the room. The rebel was terrified of what was to come next, but he realized he could use this as an opportunity to get much more information about Decarabian than he originally intended. He had no idea what the god was planning or why he was doing this, any of this, but he had to take whatever he could get if he was going to end his reign once and for all. He sighed, pondering his first plans of action as he stepped out of the room and into his new life.