Author's Note

Welcome to another one of my attempts to write a full-length fanfic, starring Alberose! I'm not super amazing at writing romance, which is why I think this story will be somewhat of a slowburn in terms of Sucrose and Albedo actually you know, confessing their feelings for one another! Hehe, bear with me, please!

When he had initially come to Mondstadt, the first place Alice had taken Albedo was Starsnatch Cliff. She had placed a hand on his shoulder and pointed across the swaths of water to Falcon Coast, gesturing out toward the hilly crags of Stormbearer Point and the narrow path that led down to Starfell Lake.

After biding him smell the salty ocean air, she smiled and told him that the view from atop Starsnatch Cliff was one of the prettiest sights in all of Monstadt, for it was where the wind was freest and yet, still remembered where its home was; even at the farthest point up the cliff, the landscape ahead was still wholly Monstadt. Walking back down the incline and toward the city, she had told him to note that Starsnatch Cliff was also the only place where one could pick Cecilias.

He had been curious then. Was there something about the elevation, perhaps the soil, even, that caused Cecilias to prefer stamping their roots here instead of anywhere else in Monstadt? With that query in mind, he had knelt and plucked the nearest Cecilia. He examined it carefully as he followed Alice, barely registering her voice as she pointed out other Monstadt sights while they walked. He ran a finger down one of its silky petals and smiled.

It had been white, just like chalk—just like him.

Many years had since passed, and Albedo always kept the lone Cecilia he had picked that day in a vase on his workshop table. One of his chief delights was to see how long he could prolong the life of the flower using various chemical solutions and homemade sprays he and Sucrose had concocted.

For two years, it thrived under their tender care, but after that, while it still bloomed with a fragrant white flower, the Cecilia began to need constant attention. It came to a point where the plant couldn't even afford to miss one day of serums and potions, lest it shrivel up and die in a matter of minutes.

It wasn't Klee's fault, really, that the flower died one cool autumn night.

She had obviously not known what she was doing when she set Master Diluc's vineyards aflame, and she obviously was sorry to see the cheery grapes combust and burn in tiny explosions that sent purple skin and greenish flesh every which way.

And it obviously wasn't her fault, that, since he was her guardian, Albedo had to go along to the Dawn Winery with her and hear a four-hour lecture from Diluc on the dangers of wielding a Pyro Vision and the intricacies of being prudent with one's flames.

It obviously wasn't Klee's fault that when after Diluc had finally finished his speech, the moon hung full in the sky and the Cecilia's feeding time had passed.

It wasn't Klee's fault at all, but when Albedo entered his workshop the next morning, his spirit was disturbed to see all that remained of his first Cecilia was a tiny collection of dust and remnants of withered petals.

He had expected as much, of course, for he had meticulously charted how long the aged Cecilia could go without nourishment, and the time had been much shorter than the meeting with Diluc.

Frowning, Albedo carefully swept the ashes off his table and tossed them out the window. He knew that it wasn't productive to mourn a flower that had lived so long a life, but he could not bite back the sorrowful sigh that crept up his throat when he thought of his deceased Cecilia. There was no life left in the flecks he had thrown away, so there was no way he could even think of reviving them. He could not bring life back into something that was so utterly devoid of it.

He shook his head. There was so much work he had to do yet; he could not afford to waste time on the subject any longer.

Scanning his workshop, Albedo pulled out three narrow vials of powder he had received from Marjorie the other day. They were, apparently, ancient relics that her father had procured from some domain that he had encountered on an adventure, and she had asked Albedo to test the contents in each of the vials to see if the nondescript powders inside them were anything of value.

He tapped the side of one, impressed to see that the vial was indeed made of glass and not plastic. Plastic vials housed innocuous playthings for the commonfolk, their contents merely curios with no real purpose.

But glass?

Glass containers often were filled with interesting products, usually ancient and mysterious to anyone but the trained alchemist.

Upon seeing how the powder inside settled when he shook it, Albedo deduced that the first vial most certainly held the Dust of Azoth, a costly and useful addition to any conversion table, as it helped one convert rare gemstones into well, other rare gemstones. Marjorie certainly would be happy to hear that at least one of her father's findings would yield a surplus of Anemo Sigils.

He was about to examine the second one, when Sucrose, her face red, and her breaths labored as if she had run a mile, burst into the alchemy workshop.

"Good morning, Sucrose," he greeted, putting down the vials and turning to his assistant worriedly. "Are you alright?"

She continued to pant as she answered, "Mr—Mr. Albedo!" He didn't think it was possible, but her face flushed even redder. Was she really that fatigued? Albedo went to fetch a towel as she continued, "I—I—I thought you'd be coming later!"

As he turned on the faucet and watched the cold water inundate a towel he had just retrieved from the storage closet, he explained, "I came here early to check on the Cecilia. I didn't have much hope that it survived the night, and it appears that I was right."

"I know, I saw it earlier this morning," she said. She closed her eyes and held out a crisp white Cecilia. "I knew you'd be upset to see it, since, since it meant so much to you, so th—that's why I rushed to Starsnatch Cliff to pick you a new one!" Sucrose looked down, her boot rubbing circles into the ground nervously. "I—I was hoping to bring it back before you came, so that when you arrived, you'd still see a fresh new Cecilia next to … next to, well, the ashes of the old one."

Suddenly, the towel, frigid with icy tap water, felt warm in his hands. If he was remembering correctly, today was the day that Sucrose's precious experimental Sweet Flower harvest came into full bloom. The sticky buds of the plants would need to be scrupulously weighed and their measurements and appearances archived—a process that would take most of the day.

Had Sucrose really gone all the way to Starsnatch Cliff to procure for him a replacement Cecilia on such a busy morning for her?

He swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat remained as he exchanged the cool towel for the fresh stem. The floral, vanilla scent of the Cecilia blossom filled his lungs as he took a deep breath. "Thank you so much for this, Sucrose." He bit his lip. "But what about your Sweet Flower harvest?"

"N—no need to thank me, Mr. Albedo!" She held up her hands in front of her face as if that would stop him from appreciating her gift. "And as for my Sweet Flowers, I … I—I'll just work on them all night to make sure I get everything cataloged in time!" She beamed.

Something in her smile sent him stumbling back. Why had he never noticed how bright it was, how it lit up her entire face? How had he never realized that when Sucrose smiled, her eyes sparkled with pure delight, giving her entire being an aura of utter bliss? He could feel himself grow warm before he said, "Let me help you."

Albedo didn't get much further before a sprightly red figure skipped through the workshop doorway, its bag of bombs thumping in time with its hops. He crossed his arms when he realized that last night, he had not been able to administer any kind of punishment to Klee after she had set fire to Diluc's vineyards. The young knight was not particularly interested in plants, and he knew that she had had plans to spend the whole day playing with Dodoco.

He turned to Sucrose and remedied, "Klee and I will help you with your Sweet Flowers."

Sucrose giggled as Klee's mouth dropped open. "I will? But Grand Master Jean promised that I could play all day!"

Albedo tried his hand at an elder-brotherly stern glare. "That was before you set Master Diluc back half a season's worth of profit." He turned toward the windowsill, where twelve planters filled with various Sweet Flower hybrids sat, picked one up, and set it on a worktable before her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and turned back to go into the supply closet, returning with a scale and a notepad. "The flowers might be too heavy for you, so you can just record their weights on this paper, here."

"Albedo," Klee whined, picking up the notepad, nonetheless, "do I have to?"

He chuckled and dug out a Sweet Flower from the planter, placing it on the scale. "Yes, Klee, you do."

Sucrose pat Klee's head comfortingly, as she turned to Albedo, clasping her hands together over her head and bowing. "Tha—thank you two so much! With your help, things will go by so much faster, I'm sure!"

She smiled again, and Albedo felt his heart skip a beat and his face flush. He hoped she hadn't noticed, as she had turned away to navigate through the enormous forest of Sweet Flower stalks that were stationed at the window. Why did his body react like this every time she smiled? Surely, this was not a normal response!

One thing was for sure, though, he realized as he placed another massive flower on the scale: he would do anything to see that smile again.

Author's Note II

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