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dandelion-wings · 2 years

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My at-work entertainment for the last week or so has been bashing together a crossover fusion AU between Genshin Impact and Sekirei, a terrible fanservice-y sci-fi harem battle royale manga that I cannot in good conscience recommend to anyone, but which has a specific “the fighty people can kiss certain other people to get stronger in exchange for forming a permanent master/subordinate bond” mechanic that lives perpetually rent-free in my brain. Which is the main part I stole for this fic, in which I put both magic systems in a blender specifically in order to make Jean kiss all the Mondstadt characters I have entertained pairing her with (except Rosaria, because as soon as I started thinking about putting characters in the Sekirei paradigm I realized that Rosaria is 100% Barbara’s Sekirei, so Jean unfortunately doesn’t get to kiss her here).

Fair warning that a) the Ashikabi-Sekirei system is basically soulmating (including a “you have a destined person” element, though it’s not definitive) and b) there are inherent consent issues that come with a soulbonding system that can be done against one party’s will, though that doesn’t happen in the main relationships. ...Also c) in the midst of my attempts to condense an explanation I have realized that the blendering process turned it into something suspiciously similar to a/b/o, so I’m just going to. leave this here and go now.

---

Winging Diluc is a destiny fulfilled, a hot blaze of satisfaction in her breast that has as much to do with the innate *rightness* of their actions as it does with his lips on hers, or the wings of blazing flame that spread out behind him.

Jean had realized she was an Ashikabi in the midst of realizing she was his Ashikabi, so it only seems right. The first part was no surprise; most Gunnhildrs have been, through the ages. Her mother raises her to respect Sekirei, to uphold Mondstadt's principles of freedom, and so she doesn't press, when Diluc's Vision appears when they're both adolescents and it becomes clear what form of power he's been given and what kind she's bound for in turn. But every time their gazes meet after that she feels a spark of warmth, a determined tugging, and from the way his cheeks go red she knows he feels it just as strongly.

If she feels another, vaguer tug now and then, pulling outward, so faint that she can't tell if it's to the west or north, Jean disregards it. Every Sekirei has a destined Ashikabi, and the converse is true, sometimes many times over for Ashikabi who can hold more than one person in their heart--but the principle developed in Mondstadt, held by the Gunnhildrs and taught so strictly by her mother, is that even in the face of destiny, one should be allowed to *choose*. If that's true for Sekirei, it should be true for her, too. She doesn't want to leave Mondstadt, not even for a destined love. Diluc is here, and enough. And even if he doesn't choose her, Mondstadt is enough for her, must be enough for her, on its own.

Besides, Diluc does choose her. He waits, as she waits, as both his father and her mother make them wait, through the first confusing muddle of puberty. They're supposed to wait longer, she knows, preferably until they're adults, until they're mature enough that the adults think them able to make their own choices. But then he's made captain at fourteen, asks for her as his lieutenant, and, in the bouyant glory of the post-ceremony celebration his father is hosting, he grabs her hand and hauls her out onto a balcony and spins her around so that he's facing her, eyes bright almost to glowing.

"If I'm to be a captain at this age, and not fail my men, I need to be stronger," he says, reaching out to take her other hand and clutch both tight. "Can I- will you help me? With that?"

"Of course," Jean says, caught in a whirl of excitement and anxiety, half of her anticipating what he must want to ask and half of her afraid that she's wrong, that she's hoping too much and might humiliate herself by stating her expectations. She chooses her words carefully to avoid that latter. "I'm your lieutenant now, aren't I? I'll give you all the support I can."

Diluc hesitates, his smile dimming, and he, too, speaks carefully in reply. "I know that, but that's not what I meant. I meant- I want to be able to use my norito. Father keeps reminding me that being my Ashikabi isn't a promise of anything else, but I know it's still a lot to ask, so if you don't want to-"

"I do," Jean blurts out over him, leaning forward, almost falling into him with how eager she is. He's warm in the cold air of the night, with the faint piney scent of the awful cologne he's taken to using that in this moment is almost charming. She presses close to him, enough that he lets go of her hands to grab her shoulders, to steady her. Their lips are inches apart, and it's only with an effort of will that she holds herself back. "Though- Mother keeps reminding me it's permanent. That I can take other Sekirei, but you can't have another Ashikabi. Are you sure? I don't want to trap you with me forever."

"Jean, I don't think you could trap me if you tried," Diluc says, grinning at her, and then leans in those last few inches.

Their lips touch. Diluc's are hot, blazing against her own, almost a brand against her mouth. Her first kiss, Jean finds herself thinking, faintly dazed, and she wonders why nothing's happening. Then Diluc's tongue brushes over her closed lips and she realizes, blushing hot, both why nothing is and that it can't be *his* first kiss, though he's clumsy enough when she opens her mouth that maybe it's his second. But that doesn't matter, because suddenly the shadows of the balcony behind him are ablaze with light, his wings spreading wide, flickering, their glow brightening until she feels like she's standing in the heart of a fire.

It doesn't frighten her, though, not with Diluc's arms hot around her waist, his warmth pressed so gently against her. This fire won't burn her, not ever.

***

There's no draw at all between Jean and Kaeya, but she's the first person he shows, nonetheless, after Diluc leaves Mondstadt and rips both of their hearts in two. Perhaps that's why, because no one else could understand the bitterness of it, this god-given revelation of an inner power that she knows Kaeya would gladly trade away to have his family back, alive and home and whole. It's not the reason he gives her, of course.

"I don't really understand this business the way you and- the way you do," he says, dangling the Vision in front of her a moment more and then folding his hand around it, sliding it into his pocket as if he can hide the chill she feels through his sleeve when she puts a hand on his arm. "It wasn't my legacy. Or wasn't supposed to be. So I'm not sure what I am."

"It does run more in some families than others, but anyone can be a Sekirei or Ashikabi. The power dwells in most people of Teyvat, to be unleashed by the gods as they choose," Jean tells him, all her mother's childhood lessons flooding to the fore. "Ashikabi Visions often give them support powers, and Sekirei usually have more aggressive abilities, but that's not a hard and fast rule. It still ultimately comes down to the person, and to the Vision, whatever ancestry may have come to the fore."

She bites down on more rote words, dry explanations that surely he'd gotten from his father already just so that he could understand Diluc. That's not what he's asking for. He wants something subtler, a determination that has more to do with familiarity and instinct than lessons on ancestral influences and theology. She may not have her mother's long experience, but she knows Kaeya well. She looks with worry at the wry half-smile that reaches his eye but she knows is false nonetheless, the dark half-moon under his eye and the pallor of his skin that match her own, that has as much to do with grief as with exhaustion. Diluc might be gone, but she can still feel his emotions, has been feeling the grief turn to rage burn away into hopeless grief again, a seemingly endless cycle, since the moment his father fell before him. Kaeya must feel much the same.

Under that is a humming knowledge, stronger when she touches him, that even without any pull between them, if she pressed her lips to his, or if they cut their palms and touched them together in one of the older styles, or- or exchanged fluid in any other way... then he would be hers, belong to her, fall under her command and under her protection. What good her protection is. She couldn't protect Diluc, and he was already hers.

"Sekirei," she says, raising her hand from his skin, because it suddenly doesn't feel safe to touch him. To have *both* their pain echoing through her right now could be disabling. And while she would endure it if he asked, surely there's someone for whom he's destined, and should have the right to find and choose or deny if he so wishes without Jean's interference.

"Ah," Kaeya says, his gaze going distant. The chuckle that follows is almost painful to hear, low and bitter. "No matter what, I'm always going to be serving someone, aren't I?"

Jean opens her mouth to protest--Sekirei don't have to serve their Ashikabi in Monstadt, there are laws and protections in place, and she and Diluc have more than demonstrated how carefully the balance of power can be managed--then closes it again. Kaeya spent his first ten years elsewhere, and while she knows very little about that, she knows that not every place in Teyvat is the same way, and that the lessons learned in childhood have shaped his worldview in ways that neither she nor Diluc can ever truly understand. Which gives her even less reason to make any suggestions about his choices.

"If you don't want to be winged, Sekirei have gone their whole life without that," she points out. "All it means is that you won't be able to use your norito. And if anyone ever tries to tell you that's worth something you don't want, or is-" things do happen, she knows, even in Mondstadt, and she feels more aware than usual that a Sekirei *can* be winged against their will "-is forceful about it, you can come to me. You should be free to make your own choices."

Kaeya looks at her strangely for a moment, unreadable behind his false smile. Then he nods. His smile changes, a little less wry, a little more honest, and Jean, for the first time since Diluc's fear had spiked unexpectedly through her in the middle of a rainy May morning, summons a smile back.

***

"This is unjust," Jean says, stiff and vibrating with anger. It's a struggle to keep it from her face, to speak levelly and reasonably, but she has long practice maintaining her composure, and her outrage remains beneath the surface. "Eula Lawrence has passed every one of the trials, and sworn her dedication to our oaths. To refuse her now because of her family line is simply prejudice."

"There is also the matter of her declaration that she is infiltrating the Knights to cause our downfall," Inspector Eroch points out. "If you expect us to take her at her word regarding her oaths, should we not then take her at her word regarding her intent?"

It's a reasonable question. Jean doesn't know how to explain what she reads into Eula's words, the bone-deep certainty that she, like Jean, feels constrained to justify her every action in the framework of her own clan's philosophies, whether or not they truly align. The feel is of an unfunny in-joke that only the two of them are placed to understand; the only other person who might have is gone, long gone, his emotional tumult fading from her heart so slowly that Jean can't tell whether Diluc is shutting her out or if his own heart is hardening and going dull. And knowing more now of his father and his family, she can't be sure if even he would ever have sensed the bitter humor that underlies some of Eula's most dramatic statements.

"If she swears the oaths to become a full Knight of Favonius, they will not *allow* her to carry out that supposed intent. I believe that she will hold those oaths above her blood. Grand Master Varka trusts my judgement in this area."

"Of course you believe that of her, Captain Gunnhildr. Everyone here knows it's what you would do in such a situation," Inspector Eroch says, and the words and tone are both complimentary, but there's a glint in his eye that makes her obscurely, inexplicably certain that he's laughing at her. "The Grand Master's faith in you is deserved, but I fear it may be overflowing unfairly onto her. Now, if there were some way to guarantee her loyalty, it would be a different matter. Perhaps if she were to accept a knight as an Ashikabi-"

"That is *coercion*," Jean snaps, letting her voice go harsh, just enough of her anger leaking out to give it the force to speak over him. "Which is unworthy of the Ordo."

"Regardless, that is the only condition under which I would consider her admission," the Inspector says, in tones of mild regret, and stands. Which means the interview is over.

She almost doesn't want to tell Eula. But she had made a promise, and she walks to Windrise that afternoon with a heavy heart, unsure how to pass on the content of the interview without making the Inspector's condition sound like an ultimatum. The most politic wording is still escaping her when she reaches that point, and it tumbles out of her instead, an embarrassingly jumbled explanation likely made only more confusion by the righteous anger that, here at Windrise where she's always let her feelings free, she can't help but let show.

"An irritatingly unreasonable condition," Eula says, offering Jean a cup of berry-and-mint punch that, from the crushed remains of wolfhook berries and mint leaves crisping by her fire, she must have brewed herself. And not long ago, at that, but of course with her Vision's touch, it's already pleasantly cool. "I can't say I think much of the Knights' dedication to this supposed ethos of freedom, if he feels free to make it."

"I know," Jean sighs, and sips deeply of the punch, enjoying the sweet chill burst of it on her tongue. "This is lovely, Eula, as always. The Inspector has always been a bit questionable in that way, but the Grand Master is a little too easy-going about these things... and he picks up the Grand Master's slack, which is necessary," she reluctantly admits.

A small smile curves Eula's mouth at the compliment to her cooking, reserved but quite real. It's always a pleasure to see, those moments when she finds it worth cracking the reserve she seems to wear as a shield against the scorn of Mondstadt's people. Jean smiles back.

"It seems as if this Inspector could use to be supplanted by a more mindful individual," Eula says, her gaze going sharp. "I would have assumed such a post would always go to a Gunnhildr. You may be my ancestral enemy, but I would still be forced to take vengeance on anyone who questioned your honor."

Jean, her cheeks warming at the sideways compliment, bites her tongue hard on an assurance that the Inspector *is* due to be supplanted. She trusts Eula more than anyone else does, but that doesn't mean she can share her operation with someone uninvolved. However hopeless Kaeya accuses her of being at spycraft, she knows that much. No matter how much she wants to assure Eula that it's only a matter of time before Inspector Eroch will no longer be an obstacle. Even once that time comes, there's no assurance that other obstacles won't arise.

"I'm grateful for your confidence in me," she says instead, meeting Eula's eyes against the urge to duck her head and hide her blush. "I will do my best to live up to it."

Eula smiles at her again, just for a moment, that small pleased expression that always feels a little like Jean is getting a glimpse of something secret. Then it takes on a conspiratorial air.

"As to the matter of choosing an Ashikabi, my clan plans to make arrangements for me when I am done pursuing what they consider my hopeless folly. I wouldn't mind subverting those plans. There's no chance of them aligning with my destiny, after all--Lawrences don't give in to the whims of the stars, they carve their own fates out according to their own intentions." Eula says that last in the haughty tone she always assumes when quoting someone else's dictats or assumptions. "In which case, I would rather carve out my own intentions than theirs."

"Then you should do so," Jean assures her, resting her half-full cup on her knee to give Eula her full attention. "That *is* your right as a citizen of Mondstadt, whatever pressures anyone else may wish to exert. I know it must be difficult for you, given your circumstances, but if there's anyone you wish to approach, or if you want help finding the Ashikabi you are destined for, I'll give you my full support. As well as continuing to advocate with you for the Ordo, I should say."

"Your support is exactly what I need," Eula says. She sets her own drink aside and leans forward. "The person I want to approach is right here. I can't think of any better way to prove myself to Mondstadt. And it would satisfy the Inspector's conditions, too, though I'd intended to ask you anyway."

Frozen in place by her regard, Jean stares back at her, searching for any sign of humor in her tone or face. But there's none at all; Eula is as serious and sincere as she was the first time she placed herself to encounter Jean here at Windrise and challenge her, or as she was the day Jean brought the Grand Master here so that Eula could ask him herself to become an apprentice knight. This isn't some secret joke. She's asking this seriously.

"If your intent is to defy your clan...." Jean trails off there, because she can't finish that with a refusal. She understands all too well how heavily the shadow of such a legacy can fall upon one, though she and Eula have chosen opposite approaches to their clans' standards. Jean *wants* to support Eula in breaking free of her family's grip, and, if it is possible, in changing the meaning people attach to the name Lawrence. She would want to do the same if it was the Gunnhildrs who had so besmirched their own name, after fall.

"I can have more than one intention, and carry all of them out at once. That's simple strategy," Eula says with some scorn. She leans in closer, but pauses before she's actually in Jean's space, giving her room to pull back and retreat. The scorn dissolves away as she adds, with a haughtiness that is more obviously than usual a shield, "I will either have the best Ashikabi in Mondstadt, or none at all."

Jean swallows hard and studies Eula's face, the proud jut of her chin, the sharp line of her jaw, the firm line of her mouth countered by the faint tremor of uncertainty around the corners of her eyes. This is a daring request on her part, one that must have been terribly difficult for her to make with all the expectations dragging on her in counterbalance. Crystalflies flutter in Jean's stomach as she looks at those violet eyes, the determination in them. She licks her lips and leans in to press them to Eula's in silent assent. Eula kisses fiercely, as if this is yet another battle, as if Jean is her glorious conquest.

A cold wind rushes around them both as Eula's wings flare out behind her, white and faintly gleaming, a lattice of lace-like delicacy. Like snowflakes, Jean thinks, pulling back to look at them. But strong despite their delicacy, like Eula is strong, standing firm against the sunlight and the wind, refusing to melt, growing only stronger under pressure.

***

The tugging in Jean's chest never goes away, even as the last faint impressions of Diluc's emotions fade from her awareness. It's been more than a year now, long enough for him to make such distance that even their bond can't stretch so far. That's what she comforts herself with--that it's physical distance, and not emotional, that divides their hearts. It helps, when they clean out Eroch's office, to find Diluc's Vision there in a locked drawer in his desk. She tells herself that it surely contributes to the lack.

Her own Vision comes to her almost prosiacally--no dramatic moment, no confrontation, only a quiet meditation at Windrise and a sudden weight in her hand as the wind grows wild. Its lesser power is made for controlling the battlefield, but the greater, already unlocked to her by dint having winged her own Sekirei, is for healing, and Jean is grateful for that in so many ways. Grateful that she can so aid her troops, grateful that she can rely on it herself and safely take on more danger therefore. Grateful that she is more, as a Knight, than the knife she'd started thinking of herself as, forced to carve out bits of the Ordo like a surgeon in order to save the whole.

She devotes herself to caring for what she can, to stepping into the role of Master of Knights and picking up the Grand Master's slack, to filling long-empty positions and flushing out the remaining traitors hidden in the Ordo's ranks. Eula proves herself so ably as captain of the Reconaissance Company that only the most bitter detractors still claim she has the rank because she's Jean's Sekirei, and Kaeya is so useful that Grand Master Varka names her his adjutant, which proves a useful way to keep him, too, safely under her protection. Some of the other officers are Ashikabi, too, and the events of Eroch's expulsion leave Jean with a shivery uncertain feeling down her spine when they eye him, in place of her once-solid certainty that no one in the Ordo would so blatantly break Mondstadt's laws.

But those who might they hunt down and root out, one by one, and Jean's worries are gradually replaced by a new certainty in their new officers, the ones she's chosen herself, with Eula's silent approbation in the back of her head and Kaeya's tiny nod confirming every one. She's proud of them, and almost as disappointed as the Grand Master when one likely candidate flatly turns down the position, insisting that she wishes to be Ordo Librarian and no more. Jean isn't sure why she likes her so much when she'd only met her once, but as much as Nymph disagrees, she'd thought Ms. Minci was perfect.

It's not until she's watching Lisa duel with Nymph that she realizes the tightness in her chest is more than disappointment, or than breathlessness at seeing someone so lovely and so clearly in her element putting her power on display. Or Eula's own similarly breathless feeling echoed back to her; Eula has more reserve than Diluc did, once upon a time, but when their emotions align Jean can feel them most clearly, and they seem to align here. But there's something more than that, something like a tugging feeling, like she's being pulled towards the woman, something that makes her take three steps towards her instead of the one she'd intended when Lisa calls a halt to the fight and steps away.

"I agree that Field Officer Nymph has shown herself off well in this match," she says, at least keeping the breathless admiration from her voice, spine straight, shoulders back, chin up but smiling, because formality doesn't mean she can't be welcoming. "But so have you. The Ordo will be pleased to have you as our librarian, Ms. Minci."

"Call me Lisa, my dear." There's a sparkle in her eyes as she smiles at Jean, warm and pleased and knowing. She must feel the tug too, she *has* to. "I look forward to working closely together."

Jean fumbles out a polite answer, hot and flustered and grateful for Eula's sudden cold presence behind her to cool down her blush. Being destined to be Sekirei and Ashikabi doesn't mean that a pair is destined for anything else, she reminds herself, even if it often goes that way, and even if Lisa is stunningly beautiful. In fact, that's more reason not to press. In Mondstadt, destiny isn't a dictate; everyone is free to make their own choices. She has to give Lisa space for that no matter how her heart pulls.

And for all the promising warmth of that introduction, Lisa, it seems, has chosen not to bow to destiny. It reminds Jean a bit of Kaeya's wariness, the way she smiles and demurs and stands a little bit away from any Ashikabi, or puts Eula or another bonded Sekerei between them if they press too close. But it's not quite the same. Kaeya doesn't hide his abilities, uses his Vision as a tool the same as his sword or his horse. Lisa seems downright reluctant to employ her power, despite how it crackles unbidden from her skin, and any deliberate usage is a display of just how powerful she is, just how sharply she can sting when provoked. She handles her Vision like a double-edged blade, like she expects it to cut her every time.

It behooves Jean to prove that she can command her own heart, and so she does, is careful never to press, never to stand too closely, never to ask Lisa to use her Vision unless Lisa offers first. She intrudes on the library only after asking permission, and invites Lisa to her office only when she has Eula or some other Sekirei knight to act as a potential buffer should Lisa want the space. Which Lisa wants less and less, as the months go by, until she's the one inviting Jean to tea alone together even when Eula is out in the field.

Their conversations wander everywhere, from knightly work to Lisa's projects to the library to books they've read to all the various subjects that books can hold. Jean feels like she can talk to Lisa about anything, and refuses to compare her delighted, interested attention to the way Diluc used to listen to her, silent and rapt. It's a pleasure just to be in her company. Jean starts to feel something swelling in her heart beside the tug and recognizes it all too well: it's the same way she feels when she walks into her office and finds that Kaeya has done all her paperwork for her and left a bouquet of calla lilies atop her empty desk, or Eula says something dramatically subversive and then tilts her head and smiles to invite Jean into the joke. And just as she does at those times, she shutters it away before Eula can sense it, because it isn't fair to them.

She's rewarded for her forbearance, at any rate. Lisa begins to touch her, a hand on her arm for support on rough ground or on her back when Jean is too tired to hide it, and to sit ever closer to her at the tea-table, and even to put Jean between herself and other Ashikabi when she's weary of handling them herself. Every time she sees Jean she smiles, no matter how serious the situation or how irritated or exhausted she is. Jean could bask in that smile forever, and tells herself that she needs nothing else.

***

Grand Master Varka goes halfway up Dragonspine after a particularly troublesome gang of bandits and comes back with a look of grim satisfaction and a single survivor. Jean is among the few to be told that she was paroled, not rescued, and it worries Jean a little that she's sent to the Church. But all reports suggest that the new novice is, if exasperating to the sisters, disinclined to waste her second chance. Barbara is safe.

Having her sister on her mind makes it more of a surprise, not less, when her father sends her a polite note asking that she speak to Barbara Ashikabi-to-Ashikabi. As neither Sekirei nor Ashikabi, he says, he's not qualified to counsel her on this topic. Jean writes back in vague agreement first, and nearly has to follow up with a letter almost two weeks later apologizing that she can't--but she mentions her frustration at being unable to free the time up to Kaeya and finds her schedule for the next day abruptly cleared. Lisa descends on her when she tries to check in at the Ordo that morning just in case something's come up and banishes her with a sternness that Jean is too taken aback by to protest.

She considers offering to take Barbara to Good Hunter to talk, then considers the subject and invites her to Windrise, instead. Barbara skips all the way there, joy so poorly contained that Jean feels a guilty regret at her long delay. As they settle in at the roots of the great tree, though, anxiety seems to overtake her, and she worries at her skirt until it's hopelessly wrinkled as Jean sets out a picnic lunch.

"How are thinks at the Cathedral?" Jean asks her, trying for a delicate approach.

"Everything's going well," Barbara says, too quickly. "I've been helping out in the infirmary, and training some of the newer novices on the basics. They're good students! Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Our newest novice...." Barbara trails off, shifts uncomfortably, and then bursts out with, "How do you know the difference between being destined for someone and having a crush? I know you and Sir Diluc were destined for each other, so you know what that feels like, right?"

"Yes, we were," Jean says. She waits for the weight in her chest, but finds herself able to breathe easily. Only now does she realize that it hasn't hurt for months. "Though I did have a bit of a crush on him for at least part of that time. They're difficult feelings to disentangle."

"Oh." Barbara sighs. "I've had crushes before, but this is the first Sekirei. So I don't know if it's different because of the person, or because I'm older, or because it's a destined connection. I don't want to act weird around them, but if we really are destined, isn't that important?"

Jean considers her words carefully before she answers. She can feel the parallels there, clear and obvious, with her feelings for Lisa. The solution is the same, really, regardless of the nature of the connection, because the central problems are also the same.

"Whether you're destined to be together or not, what's important is treating them normally, and respecting the choices they make around you. If it is a crush, and they're an unattached Sekirei, there's no point in pursuing it until they have an Ashikabi, whether they choose you or someone else. There's no safe way for us to... to be intimate with a Sekirei who hasn't formed a bond yet." Jean's face goes hot at bringing such a thing up with her sister, but it's important to be sure that she knows.

"I know *that*," Barbara squeaks, just as red.

"I'm told there are people for whom a relationship doesn't have to be intimate to be satisfying, but that's quite rare," Jean says, and moves on quickly before she has to explain something she doesn't entirely herself understand. "That's beside the point. Being destined for each other doesn't mean you *have* to be their Ashikabi, only that you would work well together if you were. So it's best to simply treat them as a friend, and let anything else that happens occur naturally. You don't want to pressure them into anything, do you?"

"No." Barbara's voice is small. "But what if she- what if they're doing the same thing? Waiting to see what *I* want? They're a reserved person, and I don't want them to think I don't like them...."

That's a good question. One Jean hasn't bothered to ask herself. She thinks of Lisa's little touches, her warm smiles, how close she sidles up when they're taking tea alone. Are they both holding back? Both waiting? And yet, a misstep could undo all the progress she's made. And any Barbara might have made, as well, because Jean knows of only one unattached Sekirei woman in the Church. She doesn't know Rosaria well, but her situation is surely even pricklier than whatever makes Lisa so reluctant to show what she is.

"A small gesture wouldn't hurt," Jean concedes. "Something that doesn't create any obligation. You've been practicing your singing, haven't you? Could you compose them a song?"

"Oh, I'm not nearly good enough to compose yet," Barbara says, but she sits up and looks thoughtful. "She's said my voice isn't terrible, though...."

"I'm sure you can think of something that would serve," Jean says. "And if you need more ideas, you can ask me, and I'll try to think of them."

"Would you? I'm sure you would think of some good ideas!" Barbara beams at her.

Jean smiles back. "Now, while we're out here, Sara did prepare quite a picnic for us. It would be a shame to let her hard work go to waste."

"Mhmm!"

As they dig into the food, a gentle breeze winds through branches of the tree above, the rustle of the leaves against the trickle of the brook behind it almost making up a song. Jean listens to Barbara hum absently along and lets herself luxuriate in the rare pleasure of an afternoon with her sister. She should do this more often, though she knows as she thinks it that this was a rare chance, and life will interfere again. As Barbara chatters about life at the Church, and Jean answers with a few of her own more appropriate work anecdotes, the thought of Lisa's smile lingers in the back of her mind.

***

Eula is out on assignment during their next teatime, as she so often is these days. Jean can feel the quiet hum of her presence in the back of her mind, though, emotions cloaked in reserve the knowledge that she's healthy and alive still a constant reassurance. It's more comforting than perhaps it should be as she sits down across from Lisa and asks her about her day.

The conversation wanders, as it always does, and Jean tries to subtly steer it. She doesn't want to say what she has to say out of the blue. At last, as they sip the last cups of the pot, it turns to Visions and all the baggage they carry.

"You don't like to use yours," Jean says, careful to keep her voice gentle, to avoid any implication that it might be an accusation. "Is that because you don't want people to know you're a Sekirei?"

"I'll admit that can be tiring at times, though Mondstadt is much more bearable than I'm used to when it comes to inappropriate Ashikabi." Lisa smiles warmly at Jean, as if she's complimenting her as much as the city. "I'm surprised more Sekirei don't flock here for that reason alone. But that's not my only reason. Have you ever wondered why the gods give Visions to some people with Sekirei and Ashikabi potential, and not to others?"

"Because their passion is strong enough to catch the god's attention," Jean answers, confused by the question.

"But can we be certain of that? Sir Kaeya asked me an interesting question once, when I discussed it with him. He asked me, if most people in Teyvat have Sekirei or Ashikabi ancestry, whether we should think about it as select people's power being unlocked, or as most people's power being sealed away. There is faint evidence, far back in the historic record, of people speaking of Sekirei and Ashikabi possessing elemental power without mentioning Visions." Lisa takes a sip of tea; Jean, unsure where she's going but unwilling to interrupt, watches the delicate sweep of her eyelashes as she closes her eyes to savor the flavor, then opens them again. "But no matter what perspective you take, having a Vision makes you beholden to the gods. If they choose to call up that debt, I doubt how little I use my power would make any difference, but I'm hesitant to exert my power without knowing the cost."

Jean considers that. It's not how she's ever thought of Visions, or of the gods--but the archon of Mondstadt is very different from those of other lands, and much freer with his people. "Then I will continue not to ask you to use it," she promises, because in the end, it's not why Lisa is reluctant that matters, it's that Jean respects that reluctance.

"Don't worry, my dear. If there's anyone worth exerting my power for, it's you." Lisa smiles over the rim of her teacup. Her eyes sparkle with a mischevious warmth that summons a return smile from Jean, responding to the fond affection in that gaze. "You could almost convince me to start developing it again?"

All of Jean's intended words stick in her throat. "I- almost?"

"Well." Lisa sets her cup down carefully in front of her. She's still smiling, but she's watching Jean's face carefully, a faintly guarded look replacing the sparkle in her eyes. "It would depend on how you ask."

Setting her cup down, too, Jean takes a deep breath. "What if- if my intent wasn't for you to develop your power? Or simply that, though it would be a side-effect."

Lisa meets her eyes, the smile even fainter, studying her with hooded eyes as if Jean is an experimental potion she's waiting to see prove out. "My dear, are you asking to kiss me?"

"Yes." Suddenly feeling the weight of the word, the distinction from another, equally important one, Jean licks her lips--Lisa watches that, she can't help but notice--and adds, "And I would wish to whether you were a Sekirei or not. But I don't want to wing you against your will."

"So several people have assured me." Lisa props her chin on her palm and smiles again, leaning forward in a way that makes Jean even more aware than usual of the low cut of her bodice. "The difference between that and using my Vision, is that the cost of a kiss is obvious. And if it's for a kiss from you, my dear, it's worth paying."

Jean feels faintly dizzy. She's suddenly intensely aware of Lisa's perfume, a sweet heavy rose scent that seems to be wafting anew through the room, though surely it's weaker now than it was at the beginning of their tea. "Then, may I?"

Smile deepening, Lisa leans even further forward, close enough that Jean could lean in to meet her. "You may."

Taking that invitation, Jean closes the distance. Her hands are sweaty on her thighs, but she feels almost cold as she presses her lips against Lisa's. Static crackles between them. Lisa's lips are warm--she's used to Eula's, the rare times they've fought together and Eula's asked her for a boost, and as she hasn't kissed anyone else for years now, Lisa's warmth is even more striking in comparison. Then she opens her mouth to Jean, and she's so soft and warm and welcoming that Jean sighs and nearly falls into her.

Her wings are are Electro-violet as they flare into existence behind her, unfurling like the petals of a rose. They have a petal-pattern to them, too, curves stacked upon each other in such soft-looking layers such that Jean almost wants to reach out to touch them, even though she knows her hand will go right through. They glow with a light of their own. Jean closes her eyes against that light and leans deeper into the kiss, into the warmth of the woman in front of her, setting the power Lisa doesn't care to indulge aside.

***

Lisa settles into the back of her mind alongside Eula, a comforting hum when she's calm or preoccupied, spiking sharp and almost painful in her rare bursts of anger or indignation, buzzing brightly in joy. Jean finds herself working to cultivate that joy. As she does so, she thinks of the occasional leakage of Eula's happiness, cool and bracing like a brisk wind on a chill spring morning, and begins to think of little ways to bring that, too, to the fore. Lisa sparks now and then with a jealousy that worries Jean up until the first time they fight together, an unexpected Abyss Order incursion in Wolvendom that sends Lisa hurrying to protect her student and Jean racing after her and Eula sprinting to aid them both.

The elemental energy flowing between them, spread out further and faster by Jean's Swirl, is far more powerful than any Superconduct Jean has seen before. She's commanding the battle, mediating their powers, but she feels like a conduit for an synchronity deeper than mere words of command, an instinctive sense they all share that feels like they're one person in three skins. That interchange seems to settle something between her Sekirei that Jean, for all that she has both their bonds, isn't granted access to.

The next time they're able to take tea together, Lisa and Eula smile conspiratorially at each other and then sweep Jean off for an afternoon walk as soon as the empty cups are cleared away. Her protests fall on deaf ears; when they return that evening to her high-piled desk, Kaeya is already lounging there with her chair tilted back on two legs the way he knows she hates, sorting out her paperwork by secrecy and priority. He and Eula and Lisa tackle everything they have the expertise and clearance to touch without even asking for Jean's leave. Since the gesture is kind, she can't even be upset.

It becomes their ritual when Eula is free, and sometimes Kaeya and Lisa pull it on their own when she isn't. Jean has to admit that it clears up time in the evenings, time that Lisa is happy to monopolize--time, when Eula is there, that Lisa drags their Reconaissance Captain into more and more. Dinners that were supposed to be dates should feel awkward with a third person along, but Jean can only be happy with both her Sekirei beside her.

Dinners that were still dates, she only realizes some six months into their strategy, when Lisa pulls Jean into a shameless kiss right in front of Eula and then, when Jean breaks away, red-faced and blinking away the afterimages of Lisa's wings, murmurs, "Oh, did you want to give Eula a turn, my dear?"

"I don't- I mean- I'm sorry," Jean blurts, turning to Eula. She's watching Jean with that familiar put-on haughtiness, the shield she almost never uses around Jean anymore. "Lisa was just teasing."

Lisa tucks her chin over Jean's shoulder. "You're lucky you're so cute when you're being this oblivious," she purrs into Jean's ear. "You do a very good job of keeping your feelings about Eula hidden from her, and a disappointingly good job of keeping your feelings about me hidden from me, when you don't think it's appropriate. But you aren't quite as careful about concealing your thoughts about each of us from the other."

Jean can feel the tips of her ears burning. She must be fully crimson.

"If you would rather deny your feelings for a Lawrence, just this once, I won't take vengeance." Eula's voice is very stiff, and while Jean can only feel a cold, muted hardness from her, a deliberate attempt to hide her own feelings, her eyes are bright and fierce with something Jean has the horrible feeling could be tears, if Eula's self-control wasn't so intense. "You have your own clan's reputation to attend to."

"That's not...." From what Lisa had said, it's not as if Jean can deny her feelings. She takes a deep breath, steadying as a fresh breeze rushes into her lungs, and draws herself up straight. "I didn't want to impose. I know that I was a strategic choice for you. If things had been different, it would have been Amber, wouldn't it?"

A Sekirei's power only manifests when their Vision comes to them, but many Ashikabi are like Jean, aware as soon as their destined Sekirei awakens and the draw of fate begins. She can't be *certain* that Amber knew until her Vision came into her hand, but Jean had felt Eula's stab of regret when Amber had come bursting joyously into headquarters to show it to them, and the accompanying lack of surprise. It had been Eula she had rushed to first, and there had been a flicker of disappointment beneath her joy.

"It is beneath the honor of the Lawrence clan to permit a common Ashikabi to command a noble Sekirei," Eula says, cold and precise, without even the imitation sneer that would turn that obvious quotation into a joke. Her words send a chill down Jean's spine. "The clan has employed assassins before to spare the Lawrence name such embarrassment. However else they may feel about the Gunnhildrs, you *are* noble, and not at such risk."

"That doesn't mean you and Amber can't- I wouldn't stop you. Once she's older," Jean corrects herself. "Simply because we're Sekirei and Ashikabi doesn't mean we have to have the same relationship as I and Lisa."

"Exactly." Eula smiles at her, the small secret smile, the shared in-joke. "I would have been for Amber what that sister of the church is to your sister. If that would have changed in time, there is still time for it to happen, is there not? But right now she is a child, and you are a beautiful, honorable woman whom I think very fondly of. And I may be cold, but whatever may be said of me, I am not frigid."

"Ah." Jean looks at her, pale and proud and beautiful, trusting her enough to share the joke, still the faint wary haughtiness in her eyes. Lisa is right behind her, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, buzzing in the back of her mind with encouragement. "Eula, would you- may I kiss you?"

Eula's shoulders relax, and she steps forward. "I suppose I'll permit it," she says loftily, leaning in.

As her wings appear behind her they reflect the light of Lisa's, fading, blue-white traced with violet. Later, in bed, they intermesh, Eula's insubstantial latticework like a skewed frame for Lisa's layered petals, as they confer quietly together over Jean's head. Jean lets them conspire, yet again, basking in Eula's cool sparkle of pleasure and Lisa's satisfied buzz.

***

Kaeya is pulling away, and Jean doesn't know how to fix it, or even whether she should. He still wanders into her office to help with her paperwork on date nights, and he's still at her side whenever she happens to accompany the cavalry into an engagement, but he never leaves bouquets on her desk anymore, and the only place she sees him is at work. He smiles and jokes with her and slides further and further out of her reach, hiding behind that smile and that laugh and the captaincy she'd been so proud of him for earning. She hears about his drinking off-duty and doesn't know if she should worry about it or not, if it's a deception in service of the clandestine reports that still land on her desk or if it's a sign of him shutting down.

It started somewhere in the past year, wound about with her first kiss with Lisa and their dates with Eula, but it didn't turn from slow creep to abrupt slide until the first time his secret reports included a rumor that the Dawn Winery was preparing for its master's return. Jean can make a thousand guesses about how that relates, exactly, but she can't be certain of any of them. All she can be certain of is that Kaeya isn't going to tell her.

Then a Fatui delegation is in Mondstadt, and Diluc back so soon after that he seems almost on their heels, throwing the Dawn Winery's doors open for a reception. Jean is too busy helping ready the Ordo for the Grand Master's expedition to attend, or so Kaeya suggests when he offers to go in her stead. She accepts the offer, and the excuse, and wonders if he knows that she still can't feel Diluc--not just his emotions, but Diluc himself, not even the sense that he's alive that she can still feel from Eula and Lisa when they're asleep--or if he has his own agenda. If it's the latter, she'll leave him to it.

Which she has to do, and keep doing, as one problem stacks upon another. Amber comes to them leading a traumatized young Sekirei with such eager protectiveness that Jean wants to blush for her, and Kaeya lies and deflects and leaves her behind with an utterly unreassuring wink, abandoning Jean to handle the diplomacy and wish she knew what he was up to. There's fire in the city and a battle on the cliff and so much cleanup left, when it's all done, that Jean is reminded of the days after Eroch. At least this time there's no rot within, only without.

In the midst of that she doesn't notice exactly when her bond with Diluc returns. Some time between breakfast and dinner, because she works straight through lunch, and while Lisa makes her sit down for tea in late afternoon, Lisa is the only thing she's paying attention to. Dinner she has alone in her office well after most of the day shift has left, and she's sitting there in the quiet, watching the candles on her desk flicker in some subtle draft, when she feels something else flicker within. A ground-down exhaustion so deep that it's almost an ache, but punctuated with a dull satisfaction like flexing a sore muscle after a spar.

Neither Lisa nor Eula have that flickering undertone to their emotions, nor the sense of ashy grit that pervades Jean's awareness when she focuses upon those thoughts. There's something oddly familiar to it. Her fork hangs in the air, a flake of fish slowly sliding off it, as she tries to place that familiarity. When she realizes, it's as much a sting as a relief. Diluc used to be a roaring blaze in her mind, joy and anger equally fierce. This is less than just a lessened connection due to distance and time; the very tenor of his thoughts, the way he sees the world, has changed. She wonders if he can sense her in return. It's not reflected in his own feelings if he can.

But it's a relief, still, to know he's alive. Jean wipes grease from the unfortunate paper her dropped forkful had landed on and goes back to her meal. She does wonder why it returned now, what changed. She'd spent so long assigning his absence in the back of her mind to his disconnect with his Vision that she'd only considered getting it back in the context of returning his Vision, but the Grand Master had asked her to hold off on that, so it can't be-

Jean pauses, sets her fork down, and unfastens her keys from her belt. She has more on her ring than anyone but Grand Master Varka, and even the ones that only he's supposed to hold, she knows where he keeps the secret duplicates. But there are copies of her office keys and her desk keys hidden away in Lisa's office, and others carried by one other knight. So it's no surprise at all, when she unlocks the desk drawer where she's kept Diluc's Vision all these years, to find it gone.

There's still work to do, but Jean sets the remains of her fish atop the remains of her paperwork and heads down the hall to the one other room on this corridor with a light still showing under the door. She knocks before she enters, but doesn't wait for Kaeya to get the door; if they're the only two working, he won't bother to lock her out. He looks up from his desk and smiles at her, a momentary flash of real affection buried immediately behind lazy insouciance.

She opens her mouth with a scolding on the tip of her tongue, but somehow, what comes out is, "Thank you."

"Not that it isn't nice to be appreciated, but what are you thanking me for?"

"I can feel Diluc again." Jean closes the door behind herself and goes over. Her thought is to sit, but he doesn't have a spare chair in here, and she's nowhere near tired enough to lean on his desk, so she ends up standing beside it, not quite hovering over him. "You gave him his Vision back, didn't you? And I can feel him. Not as strongly as before, but I can tell that he's alive, and I'll know if something urgent happens."

"Such an accusation," Kaeya says lightly, kicking his chair back onto two legs and leaning back in the exact way that she hates. Jean tenses against the urge to tip it back upright. He's never *actually* unbalanced enough to fall backward and crack his skull open, as far as she knows, but she's always waiting for it.

He's right, though. Jean will actually have to scold him if he incriminates himself. She sighs and smiles at him, a genuine smile to counter his false one. "I withdraw it. However it happened, I'll simply be grateful. Perhaps it was the will of the Anemo Archon."

"Anemo does like you," Kaeya says, half-serious. He studies her in silence for a moment, and then his gaze flicks away, back to his desk. Staring at the hourglass on the corner like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, he says quietly, all the humor gone from his voice, "What happens next? You know he won't come back to the Ordo."

"No." That's obvious enough. Jean closes her eyes and sits with that for a moment, breathing through the ache in her chest at having to acknowledge it. "I can't, and don't, have any expectations of him. He ought to be free to follow his own path, whether or not I agree with it. I doubt he wants to rekindle our connection any further while he holds such a grudge against the Knights. If I can restore us in his eyes, then perhaps something will come of it. If it doesn't, though, knowing that he's well will be enough."

Kaeya gives a little hum that could be agreement or could be acknowledgement, then looks up at her again, still smiling. "So long as you're happy, my future Acting Grand Master."

"'Happy' may not be possible, in this situation. But I'm content with current developments."

"Fair enough."

Jean studies him back, the guarded smile, the tension hidden beneath his casual slouch. His elbows are hooked loosely over the back of his chair, but the foot that isn't tucked around the leg of his desk to hold him upright is flat on the ground. He's ready to spring up and into action the moment it's called for. The moment, Jean knows without any false arrogance, that she calls. Among other triggers.

"Are *you* happy?" she asks him, softly, to see if the mask will slip.

Only a faint widening of his eye, and then the smile curves more deeply, more amused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know." Jean takes a deep breath and leans in, looking down at him, trying to let her concern show so he'll know how serious slhe is. "But I know something is amiss. If it's anything I've done, or there is anything you wish me to do, please tell me. You are my best friend, Kaeya. And I miss you."

His eye has gone wide again, and the false smile, at long last, fades away. After several beats of silence in which Jean goes colder and colder, afraid she's pushed too, he asks out of the blue, "If an Ashikabi dies, their Sekirei all die with them, isn't that so?"

"Yes." Kaeya should know that, should remember from the end of that affair with Eroch--the Inspector only alive now, imprisoned someplace in the remote western reaches of Liyue through a deal with the Tianqian that they're still paying off, because of the hostages he took to save his own hide. They had come so close to unintentional murder in his arrest that she still wakes in a cold sweat now and then.

"So once Grand Master Varka leaves, between you and the people you've winged, it would pratically cripple Mondstadt if someone knifed you in the back." Kaeya is calmly thoughtful, as if this is somehow a rational next step in their conversation, as if he's not talking about her death and those of half the people she most loves.

"I wouldn't say that," Jean protests. "There will still be you, and Hertha and Albedo, and everyone at the Church. Not to mention the populace. Mondstadt is stronger than a few individuals."

"Mmm. I think you underestimate how much of that strength leans on Gunnhildr shoulders, you know. And Ragnvindr wealth, but since Diluc is your Sekirei, you're perfectly placed for a fall." Kaeya's mouth twists in another smile, at least halfway real this time, unexpectedly warm and fond. Jean's stomach flips over as she recognizes, no doubt years late, the tenor of that warmth. "I don't think I want to be on that survivor list."

He reaches up and wraps a hand around the back of her neck, gently enough that if she wanted she could pull away. Then he tugs, drawing her face further down, almost to his own, close enough that she can feel the cold breath from his parted lips on her own. He pauses there and raises an eyebrow.

"It would be nice to know now if I'm going to get electrocuted for this," he says. He raises his hand from the back of her neck, giving her room to pull away.

"Not on my watch," Jean assures him, and brings her mouth down on his.

Kaeya arches up into her, hand coming up again to press her down with more force this time against his mouth. He nips at her lips, huffs a snort through his nose at her protesting noise, then shifts to deepen the kiss, his other hand coming up to clutch her shoulder. His wings spread out behind him, sharp knife-blades of white ice arrayed like feathers, a deadly-looking display.

Then the foot bracing him against his desk slips, and the chair falls backwards, just as Jean has always expected it to do. He yelps, his hands clutching tight on her shoulder and neck, and Jean grabs his elbows and yanks him up to keep from going down with him, and they tumble backward together, Jean landing on her ass and Kaeya landing in her lap.

His chuckle is as audible in her head as without. Jean focuses on that, on getting a feel for him, the new shape in her thoughts. There's a sense of cold water racing downstream, dark things vaguely felt in it under a screening layer of ice. She carefully turns her attention away from what he surely doesn't want her to see. His amusement is safer, chill and sharp-edged as the illusion of his wings, but less likely to hurt.

"I hadn't expected that strong a connection," Kaeya murmurs, sounding vaguely dazed. He steadies himself on her shoulders and, still straddling her lap, leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good. That's extra insurance. Now, where were we?"

***

Jean is careful not to draw upon their bond when she goes to Diluc for help with the Stormterror issue. He'll step forward for Mondstadt's sake however she asks him, so it would only be cruelty to apply that extra leverage. He holds himself a little apart throughout each stage of the plan, addressing their fortuitous traveler more than he does her. Jean carefully ignores the ashy ache in the back of her head and, in case he might feel it in answer, suppresses any hurt.

At the end they're standing before Dvalin, or rather dashing around him, dodging his attacks as Venti aims arrow after arrow at the remaining clot of poisonous blood upon his back. Diluc swings his blade again and again, flame running down the length, but Jean realizes eventually that he's putting forth no more strength than that.

In a brief pause as Dvalin lifts off, Jean carefully positions herself and whispers her norito, surrounding them and the traveler and Venti with a swirl of dandelion-scented breeze. Then, as the pause stretches on, she looks to Diluc.

"I'm not sure why you're not using your norito," she says, regretting that she has to say this before Venti and the traveler but hoping he'll understand the need. "But it would be a great help to us here."

Diluc flashes her a glance, his face twisted with frustration. "I can't," he snaps. "I've been too long separate from my Vision, and that- there was other interference. It's as if I'm unwinged again, though I can tell I'm not."

Jean swallows. This is an unfair place to ask, but there is unfair and then there is dead, which she very much does not want any of them to be, and which they may be soon. "Would it help if I redid your winging?"

"I don't know." Diluc draws himself up and takes a half-step towards her. His gaze is sharp and searching, as fierce as that of his hawk. "It might, but I would not ask you to do that uselessly."

Would not ask- Jean is starting to recognize a pattern. She sighs, then lowers her sword and drops her focus on the healing wind, stepping in and turning to close the distance with him. He's taller than her now, if by barely an inch or so, and she has to turn her face up towards his. He leans down to meet her, his gaze still hawk-like and intent.

"Is this really the time?!" Paimon shrieks from the dubious safety of the distant air, barely audible over the rumbling roar of Dvalin coming around for another run.

But there's heat all around Jean, the insubstantial fire of Diluc's wings flaring out behind him. As Dvalin barrels down on them, Diluc breaks away from her, spins about with his flaming claymore raised, and hurls a phoenix forth to meet him. Bird slams into dragon in a great flare of flame, and Dvalin, his guard burnt away, drops onto the platform, neck limp, forelegs barely holding him on. The traveler springs up onto his neck.

Right behind comes Jean, and Diluc behind her, while Venti shoots frantic arrow after arrow from the platform below. Even as she raises her blade for a swing, she can feel Diluc's determination echoing her own, still gritty and ashy but hot and intense in a way it hasn't been in five long years. He's back with her again, her lost Sekirei. Just as Eula is, a chill snow-sparkle in the middle of reconaissance on the Fatui in Dragonspine, and Lisa, a staticky buzz of irritation on the edges of some furor in Mondstadt, and Kaeya, a cold sharp blade of vicious joy as he carves his way through enemies somewhere Jean probably doesn't want to know.

All safe and alive and *hers*. Jean will let the traveler have credit for this battle. Having them all in her heart again is triumph enough.

#fic bits #i don't know what to tag this au and i definitely don't want to tag all the relationships so we'll leave this with #someone please give jean a nap #genshin impact #this is completely unedited fyi #because if i edited it i'd have to take it seriously and the secondary source cannot take this #i just... wanted kissing... that's really all #jean's harem #sekirei impact

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