Warnings: This chapter contains faint mature themes and describes light sexual content and adult situations. This chapter also contains major canon divergence and creative liberties with the established lore.
Author's Note: Hopefully this chapter is not too confusing. It starts with a flashback but returns to Barbara's perspective for the remainder of the chapter. It also shares an important plot point with Chapter Nineteen and the ending of the prior chapter. Hopefully, some of you will pick up on this by the time you're done reading this chapter.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Dream
"Can you ever forgive me?" A fair maiden murmurs to the gentle evening breeze. When she speaks, her breath escapes her in a cloud of vapor. Bursting forth and lingering briefly around her lips before vanishing into the early evening air.
But she does not shiver from this invisible chill or hug her cloak tightly about her. At present, she is draped in naught but a loose tunic that clings gracefully to her lithe frame, curving around the subtle bulge of her midsection as her long fingers stroke a soothing pattern along her navel. To all the world she appears thoroughly unperturbed by the phantom chill as she gazes blankly at the storm clouds gathering along the southwestern horizon from the comfort of her cushions.
A fitting omen of the coming battle. The maiden thinks.
Barbara is not sure how exactly she has come to know the flaxen-haired stranger's thoughts so intimately, but there is something soothing and familiar in her mannerisms and the Deaconess is loath to look away lest she misses some profound secret that seemed imminent.
"Whatever for?" A silver-haired huntress chortles as she tightens the silver string of her glistening bow.
Barbara's eyes widen in recognition as she notices the magnificent artifact within the huntress' calloused hands.
Could that be Amos' bow? The songstress wonders, shifting her attention to study the huntress closer now.
The maiden by the window turns to face the huntress and parts her lips as if to speak before catching herself as the babe within lands a particularly vicious kick that takes her breath away. Squinting through the painful spasms rippling through her, the maiden hums a soothing tune as she rubs the faint outline of the infant's foot pressed taut against her flesh.
"So eager," the maiden sighs in amusement as her friend finally notices her plight. "Soon, beloved. Soon."
"Is it time?" The huntress asks, her dark purple eyes watching her fair friend anxiously.
"Not yet," the maiden assures her with a wry smile. "But soon."
The huntress relaxes at this, lowering her bow to her side before reaching down to retrieve her quiver now, violet eyes darting briefly to count her arrows.
"I see. Where is its father?" the huntress tries clumsily after some time has passed.
"Back in Mondstadt." There is something deeply painful behind the blonde's eyes as she forces a sweet smile that does not quite reach her greenish-blue eyes.
Barbara catches a glimpse of the maiden's memories of Mondstadt. It is a quaint city of pale stone encased by a protective dome of howling wind gusts. In some places rays of moonlight slip through the fearsome barrier, bathing the valley in an ethereal glow. Barbara recognizes the glistening bridge and the walls of a magnificent tower overlooking the magnificent city and inhales sharply as she recognizes Old Mondstadt.
"I see," the huntress mumbles as she rises to her feet. "Do I know him?"
"He is the father," the blonde maiden replies softly without hesitation, her eyes watching her friend's reaction carefully.
The huntress parts her lips as if to argue but notices the lingering fog of the maiden's breath and stiffens visibly.
"I see…" the huntress mutters, her tone suddenly harsh and bitter as she stoops to snatch up her bow.
"Can you ever forg—"
"No, Gunnhildr," the huntress huffs, thoroughly beside herself with indignation as she spins to fix her with a hateful glare. "I will never forgive you. How could you?!"
"You have to understand I did it for—"
"How dare you?!" The huntress barks, charging at the maiden now. "How could you?!"
As she closes the distance between them, she discards her weapon, drawing her arm back instead and releasing it with all her might. Her palm strikes the maiden's cheek with a thunderous crash that sends her face spinning in the opposite direction.
Silence follows her outburst, leaving the huntress panting harshly into the blonde's neck.
"I'm sorry," the maiden tries once more. Her voice breaking as her lips tremble with the force of her tears. "It was selfish to beg your forgiveness."
"Explain yourself," the huntress hisses, clenching her fists as she prepares to turn away. "Why him? Of all the men—nay of all the archons in Teyvat why him?!"
"The Ju-dgement—"
"What?!" The huntress snarls, her eyes narrowing into deadly slits as she regards her now sobbing friend with disdain.
"Judge-ment of S-hs-shamash! He cannot—"
But before she is through speaking there is a loud knock on the door followed by the urgent call of muffled voices. The huntress turns to retrieve her weapon before flying to open the door.
A group of soldiers greet her with identically concerned looks. Barbara feels her breath catch in the back of her throat as she notices the striking red hair of one of the warrior's long, wavy hair.
Diluc?! The Deaconess wonders.
"I trust all is well?" The redhead asks arching an eyebrow in bemusement.
Barbara's heart sinks at the decidedly foreign timbre of the stern-faced warrior's voice.
"What do you want?!" the huntress snaps, raising an accusatory finger which she wags in the warrior's face.
"Imunlaukr," the redhead calls, prompting a tall burly soldier to step forward. "Gather the others below. We ride for the Tower. With any luck we should be able to slip into Mondstadt under cover of darkness."
"Still trying to avoid casualties, Ragnvindr?" The warrior known as Imunlaukr scoffs with a shake of his mighty head. "When will you understand that we will know no peace until Decarabian and his supporters are purged from this land?"
"Whilst I agree with you wholeheartedly, I feel obliged to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed," the redhead returns coolly. "Otherwise, how are the people of Mondstadt to tell between us and the Lord of the Tower?"
"Your compassion is a virtue our opponents will not share," Imunlaukr cautions with a disapproving grunt as he motions for the other soldiers to depart ahead of him.
"Which is why our victory will be that much sweeter," Ragnvindr shoots back with an assuring smile.
"You really think we stand a chance?" A youth with ash-blond hair blurts anxiously as he moves to walk past. "Against the L-L-Lord o-o-f t-th-the T-T-ower?"
"What is your name son?" Imunlaukr asks as he turns to study the youth.
"Lawrence, sir," the youth replies hesitantly. "Igor Lawrence."
"Lawrence, huh?" Imunlaukr repeats with a hearty guffaw as he slaps the youth's back fondly sending him stumbling toward a nearby wall. "Most invigorating! Most invigorating indeed! And here I was thinking that surely the Lawrence clan would perish in infamy. Finally, a true lion among sheep."
Ragnvindr notices the youth's path and intervenes in time to intercept him, holding him until he feels his balance return.
"They're just doing what they think is right," the youth protests. "They're only siding with him because he's the archon."
"They're only siding with him because he protects their interests," Imunlaukr scoffs with a dismissive wave of his massive hands. "Had they not built him that ridiculous tower we wouldn't be here in the first place!"
"Enough, Imunlaukr," the huntress barks, pushing through to stand at the blond youth's side. "Eric is right. Our compassion will distinguish us from our foes." Her voice softens as she turns to address the bashful scion at her side. "It takes an immense amount of courage to openly oppose one's very own flesh and blood. Thank you, Sir Lawrence."
"Oh…er-course! I mean of course!" Igor Lawrence stutters before catching himself.
"I shall thank you if you could try swaying as many of your kinsmen as you can manage," Eric Ragnvindr suggests as the youth prepares to depart. "Celestia knows our path to Decarabian will be infinitely easier if your kinsmen stand down. We only care about disposing the tyrant. No mortals need die needlessly."
"Is that it?!" Imunlaukr barks throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Surely we are not foolish enough to challenge an archon with naught but a prayer that his most ardent allies abandon him?!"
"It is not our only prayer," Amos shoots back clenching her fist in indignation. "Do not forget that he is my lover!"
"And what good will that do us all when even you could not sway him before?" Imunlaukr challenges with a skeptical arch of his eyebrow.
"Friends please!" Eric Ragnvindr cries out, stepping between them with his arms raised. "Peace. How can we stand united against an archon when we are not above squabbling amongst ourselves?"
"But, sir," young Igor protests meekly. "Sir Imunlaukr is right. Half the men are sick with worry and the other half have designs on deserting us should Decarabian's might prove too great."
"Can't say that I blame them," Imunlaukr grumbles in agreement. "Everyone agrees that he is a tyrant and yet only so few are bold enough to stand with us. Our movement would be ten thousand men stronger had so many not borne witness to the divine power of his judgment."
"You speak of the Judgment of Shamash?" Lady Gunnhildr asks softly.
It is the first time she has spoken since the soldiers' arrival. Although she spoke with a soft and elegant lilt, her voice carried across the room commanding the attention of all who heard it.
"Perhaps," Imunlaukr confesses, bowing his head reverently as she approaches them. "Although…I do not know what it is called for sure."
"I know not its name, but I have seen him wield it," Igor Lawrence admits, hazel brown eyes wide with a mix of fright and awe. "Though there are no words that can do it justice, I will undertake the fruitless endeavor of describing it. It is a living weapon of molten fire. Said to take whatever shape Decarabian wills it to be. Sometimes it is a mighty claymore, swift and powerful enough to cleave entire mountains. Other times it is an ever-blazing scythe, incinerating everything its master beholds without care or discrimination. Whatever form it takes, only two things ring true—it is forever cloaked in everlasting fire and only Decarabian can wield it."
Silence falls over the group as the youth concludes his tale. And for the first time, Barbara notices the beginnings of despair on the countenances of the brave rebels. Several of the soldiers lower their gazes, suddenly enamored with the idea of memorizing the colors of their weathered boots. Others gaze listlessly into the stormy horizon, their eyes drawn like all things to the faint outline of the mighty tower deep within the eye of the brewing storm where the God of Storms awaited.
There was no hope. They stood no chance. Even if they charged at the tower with every man, woman, and child who had pledged fealty to their cause, they had no hope of defeating the Lord of the Tower. Not with might, cunning, or charm.
Even if every member of the mighty Lawrence clan abandoned their duty to the tyrant, their forces were no match for the god-king. For before founding Mondstadt he alone had stood against Andrius, the mighty Dominator of Wolves and bested him in battle. What hopes did they have of deposing the mighty warrior king when they couldn't even defeat the fearsome sovereign of Wolvendom who he had routed so soundly?
"Is this so?" Imunlaukr queries, turning to face Amos. "Does such a weapon even exist? Does Decarabian wield it?"
"He does," Amos replies quietly, biting her lower lip in frustration.
"Then tell me," Imunlaukr asks his voice raw and somber now. Completely stripped of its earlier vigor and bravado. "Do we ride tonight to our deaths?"
"We do not," a beautiful bard clad in fine green clothes replies as he emerges from the shadows covering the dimly lit stairways. He greets the group with a polite smile as he and a tiny floating fairy approach them. "Do not forget friends that the tyrant in the tower commands two elements."
"How could we forget?!" Igor blurts sarcastically before catching himself.
"His cryo power allows him to wield the Judgment of Shamash without suffering any injury, pain, or deformity," Lady Gunnhildr explains, slowly but surely turning to face Amos and Eric Ragnvindr. "Save for the pyro archon himself, Decarabian is the living being that can wield that weapon."
"So how do we hope to defeat one who wields a weapon that will reduce us to ash?"
"We rob him of his cryo powers," the Bard replies with a cunning smile.
"And how do you propose we do that?" Amos asks crossing her arms. "He has shared his abilities with I and every troop under his command without suffering the slightest—"
"Can you ever forgive me?" Lady Gunnhildr repeats softly now as Amos turns to face her.
Silence follows the pregnant maiden's words as the silver-haired huntress stares dimly into her eyes, desperate to discern the hidden meaning behind her plea.
"The child!" Igor Lawrence cries out, pointing towards the blonde's swollen belly. "You carry the tyrant's child! Her breath! Look! It freezes despite there being no chill in the air!"
"It is true!" Imunlaukr concurs, drawing his battle axes. "The air only behaves this way when the Lord of the Tower is near."
He begins to approach Lady Gunnhildr but stops short when the blade of Eric Ragnvindr's great sword swings to block his path. Their eyes meet and the redhead mouths a warning which he does not immediately heed.
"Can you ever forgive me, friend? It was the only way."
"Why didn't you tell me?!" Amos shrieks, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions as she flies to embrace her pregnant friend.
"We feared that you loved him too much to allow it," Eric Ragnvindr replies gently.
"You!" Amos snarls, jumping back as she grabs her bow. "You knew about this didn't you?! You put her up to it, didn't you?!"
"I did it for Mondstadt," Lady Gunnhildr insists, stepping between them. "We kept it secret because we feared the Lawrence's would discover our plan and interfere before we could strike."
"Gunnhildr yo-you're carrying his child!" Amos bellows.
"Peace, Amos," Imunlaukr scolds as he finally stows his axes. "Let it be."
"What do you—"
"At full strength Decarabian will destroy us from the comfort of his chamber pot," Imunlaukr explains. "You said it yourself, we stand no chance against him should he wield the Judgment of Shamash."
"But—!"
"Without his cryo element he will be forced to rely on only anemo," Eric Ragnvindr explains.
"And with Andrius and our cute little friend here," the Bard concludes, pausing to tickle the tiny sprite skipping with his braids. "We finally have a chance."
"No," Lady Gunnhildr says shaking her head. "We have more than a chance. Friends, mark me! Come dawn the Lord of the Tower will fall."
"Sister Barbara?! Sister Barbara?! Wake up please!"
The Deaconess starts as the sudden touch rouses her from her dream. In her haste, she drops the magical tome she had been cradling in her lap. From the corner of her eyes, she notices a familiar flash of white and turns to watch as Sister Vind, the Storm Watcher stoops to retrieve the fallen book.
"S-sorry about that Sister Barbara," the Storm Watcher greets as she straightens up, pausing only to sheepishly dust the tome before holding it out for the groggy songstress. "I h-hope the fall didn't damage it."
"Huh?" Barbara hums as her eyes fall on the glowing cover of the book. "Oh, don't worry. It's perfectly alright."
"W-what tome is that?" Sister Vind queries as the Deaconess rises from her seat to accept the book.
"Oh, this? It's actually a catalyst," the songstress corrects. "Sacrificial Fragments to be exact."
"Oh, I've heard of it!" The Storm Watcher exclaims loudly, earning a stern glance from a sleepy Lisa Minci as they approach the library front desk. "I've heard the words inside are no longer legible. You weren't reading it were you?"
"Actually, Lumine asked me to hold it for Sucrose," Barbara replies with a small shrug as a wave of nausea passes mercifully without incident. "She and Albedo are trying to gather some chaos circuits to ascend it for her."
"Ah, I see."
"Although, Albedo did ask me to treat some of the pages with this potion he brewed," the Deaconess says, pulling out the vial of translucent liquid the blond Alchemist had given her earlier. "He and Lisa are trying to see if they can—"
"Merciful Archons! Where on Teyvat did you get that?!" Lisa Minci squeals as she dashes around her table to snatch the vial Barbara had been showing her colleague out of her hands.
The nuns turn to watch the normally laidback Librarian as she uncorks the vial to inspect its contents.
"Mr-Mr. Albedo g-g-gave it to me," Barbara replies hesitantly.
"He what?!"
"I-is it da-dangerous?" Sister Vind asks nervously.
"No," Lisa replies quickly before adding. "But we're not sure the effects it could have on preg—I mean…some women?"
"Oh," Barbara and Vind mutter in unison.
The Deaconess smiles and nods along with a nervous chuckle as Lisa catches her eyes and leans in to examine her.
"How much of this did you use?" The Librarian queries.
"A-about t-two or three drops?" Barbara replies, tapping her chin with a contemplative sigh. "I honestly can't remember."
"Oh, dear," the green-eyed mage moans. "How do you feel? Woozy? Sleepy?"
"She was sleeping when I found her in that carrel back there," Sister Vind offers helpfully.
"I don't care how gorgeous he is, I am going to kill that alchemist!" Lisa declares as she stows the vial away.
"Is anything the matter?" Sister Vind presses, her tone high and earnest now. "Will Sister Barbara be alright? Oh dear, I do hope nothing's the matter. She's been under the weather of late. Fainting and throwing up all over the place. Even passing out mid-mass or during choir practice. It's been so bad, but she refuses to rest. So, the other sisters and I have been trying to get through her chores before she gets up."
"What?!" The Librarian roars startling the entire library.
Barbara jabs her fingers together, rocking sheepishly as she manages an awkward smile at the irate Knight.
Lisa Minci is far from amused.
"Tell me what else has Sister Barbara been doing?"
"Oh, well thankfully during her spare time she's been writing an awful lot and reading too," Sister Vind reports. "Though the other sisters and I can't tell if she's writing songs or journal entries. Either way, she's seemed very…introspective and withdrawn these days. Far from her usual bubbly self. Mother Victoria is beginning to wonder if perhaps she misses Cardinal Pegg."
"Oh dear! Oh no it's nothing like that!"
"That's it!" Lisa declares, slamming her palm onto the table before marching off. The sisters stare after the Librarian and jump slightly when she reemerges moments later with a bemused Noelle listening patiently. "Mind the desk for a few hours, would you Noelle? I need to take Mondstadt's shining idol home."
"Oh, that's alright, Sister Vind and I—" The Deaconess falls silent as the Librarian turns to give her a stern frown before returning her attention to Noelle.
When the Knight-in-training nods and repeats the Mage's instructions perfectly, the Librarian turns and beckons for Barbara to follow her. Not daring to protest, the songstress scurries to the purple witch's side, pausing briefly to wave at her stunned colleague who watches after them awkwardly as they march out of the library.
Barbara follows Lisa's lead out of the library, across the hall and directly toward the large front doors. When the songstress notices they path, she parts her lips to speak but falls silent when she notices the frown creasing Lisa's forehead.
"Wyratt, love," Lisa calls cheerily as they pass the sentry returns to his post by the library. "Could you be a doll and fetch us a carriage?"
"Er, of course, Miss Min—I mean Lisa," Wyratt returns with a bow as he departs to do as he had been told.
"Lisa please there's no need for all this—"
"Fuss?" The Librarian completes with a dismissive scoff. "Oh, if you think I'm making a fuss I wonder what your mother will think."
"M-my m-mother?!" The songstress squeaks, stopping dead in her tracks.
Lisa turns to give her a quizzical look and her jaw grows slack when the petite Deaconess hastily averts her gaze, intent on concealing some sheepish crime.
"You haven't told her, have you?"
"I was going—I mean I was waiting—"
"For what exactly, sweetie?" The Mage asks crossing her arms as she turns to face the younger woman. Barbara's gaze shifts towards the door of the Grand Master's office behind which her sister was undoubtedly hard at work.
No Barbara. She's got enough to deal with already.
"I'm sorry," Barbara mutters bowing her head.
"Are you just saying so because you think it's what I want to hear?" The Librarian asks with a soft sigh as she uncrosses her arms and reaches instead to stroke the younger woman's forearm.
"I'm sorry," Barbara mumbles, abruptly turning away as the sting of unshed tears blur the world around her.
"Barbara, please," Lisa sighs once more, this time in mild exasperation. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I do," the Deaconess insists. "I'm scared and I'm frightened. And pregnant!"
An errant sob escapes the songstress' quivering lips just as Wyratt returns with news of a carriage.
"I have found a carriage, Miss Lisa," he announces, pausing briefly to answer the Librarian's queries before leading them outside. Lisa approaches the horseman briefly to relay their destination before thanking Wyratt again and turning to lead Barbara inside.
As much as the Deaconess pretends otherwise, she is secretly grateful for the ride home. Although she was now only two months along, she had yet to adjust to the many ill effects of her pregnancy. Nausea and dizzying spells were unfortunately still common whenever she pushed herself too hard to get through her chores and daily exercises. Her favorite meals and beverages now soured in her mouth, and she seemed only capable of keeping down meals she had never preferred or even dared before. Sleepiness and fatigue had drained every ounce of her once-infectious exuberance, leaving her yawning listlessly when she wasn't nodding off.
"Thank you, Lisa," she murmurs as their carriage takes off.
"Listen to me Barbara," the Librarian says, leaning forward to grab the younger woman's hands in hers as their eyes meet. "I know you're scared and frightened and—"
"And ashamed," the Deaconess adds, fighting back tears now.
"What? No? Why?"
"I am supposed to be Mondstadt's shining idol," she moans hugging herself as she begins rocking back and forth. "Look at me. Unmarried and pregnant…with a harbinger's child."
"Barbara, please we've been through this already," Lisa protests shaking her head firmly. "You will always be Mondstadt's shining idol. No matter what. Always. Look, I've heard you sing. There is no sweeter voice in all of Teyvat or Celestia."
"You're too kind but anyone can have a beautiful voice."
"No, sweetie. Don't do that. Don't brush my compliments aside," the Mage sighs leaning back in her seat.
"But it's true!" Barbara insists shaking her head.
"Do you know how many lives you've saved?"
"Singing?"
"Healing," Lisa corrects, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "I've seen you roaming around the cathedral sickbay, healing, and treating every single patient. Every. Single. Day. And when that's done, you still find time to gather herbs, and wrap bandages and make house calls—"
"I'm just trying to be helpful," the Deaconess confesses choking back tears. "Just trying to keep everyone safe." When her emotions overwhelm her, she collapses into herself, rocking back and forth as her tears spill freely from her stinging eyes.
Lisa flies across the carriage and settles down beside her, pulling the Deaconess close until her weary blonde head rests gently atop her chest. Barbara leans in as she wraps her hands around her and begins to rock them back and forth. Suddenly, all the world falls away and she is young again, sobbing wretchedly into her governess' skirt as her mother leads her older sister away yet again.
"What hurts dearest? Show me where it hurts?" Her governess would coo ever so gently. And when Barbara would point to her head and her heart, the kindly lady would lean forward and press a tender kiss along her temple and chest in turn.
Stop it, Barbara! Focus! You can do it. You can stay strong. You're going to be a mother soon. This little one…inside you…who will comfort it when the pain comes?
For come it would. If its father's many scars were any testament to the crushing cruelty of life.
Ajax. Her lips quiver as her thoughts return to that forbidden realm where only pain and longing await. A cry catches in her throat as she recalls the sweet memory of a half-remembered dream.
There they were, locked in each other's embrace aboard the Alcor, atop the stage where she had danced and sung the snow maiden's love song and he had played the part of her enraptured lover. She had dreamt that after the performance they had remained on board but stolen away to watch the fireworks against the canopy of the stars, marveling at the explosion of colors as he whispered fond tales of his childhood in Snezhnaya. She had marveled at his worldliness, and he had indulged her naivete. Promising sweetly to bring her along on his travels.
She had dreamt that they had passed that night in his bed together, reveling in the heat and taste of each other. Indulging and exploring heedlessly as if all time lay still and the world was theirs to conquer. When the searing heat of his core found hers, she had responded with equal fervor, matching and meeting his pace and zeal until he collapsed upon her thoroughly spent. Their bodies so inextricably intertwined that when he rose to relieve himself hours later, she woke with him.
"Kiss me," she would command him softly. And he would pad silently from the bathroom to oblige. Stealing her breath away as he deepens the kiss, his hands hungrily exploring every inch of her bare flesh until she pulls him into bed once more. This time his strong hands guide her as she straddles him, riding him until spasms of ecstasy claim them both and he screams his love for her to the heavens.
When the moment finally passes, and their eyes meet, a simple truth passes between them. He was hers and she was his. Whatever he commands she would do, and he would forsake all that vexed or troubled her.
"I love you," he declares needlessly.
"And I you," she replies.
"I mean it Kroshka," he would insist, sitting up to watch her carefully now.
"So, leave the Fatui," she would murmur back. "Come back to Mondstadt with me."
"But my family," he would protest. But she would silence him with a kiss and assure him that all would be well. And so, he would leave the very next day, return his delusion and resign his commission, following her back to Mondstadt and bringing his family, friends, and loved ones with him.
The following spring, they would be married and settle down in a cottage in Springvale where his skills as an assassin would serve him well as a hunter. She would continue helping out at the cathedral but would pass most of her time setting up a new hospital in an old, abandoned inn. Occasionally he would accept a commission or two from the Adventurer's Guild and return days later with exciting stories to tell and fresh wounds for her to heal.
She would fuss about his injuries and complain about being left behind. And so, he would surprise her on her birthday with a trip around the world. They would leave the following week and travel the world together, unraveling the vast mysteries of Sumeru, absorbing the rich culture and cuisine of Fontaine, braving the many dangers of Natlan and Inazuma before stopping by Snezhnaya. While shopping in Snezhnaya she discovers her pregnancy prompting their return to Mondstadt where their families are ecstatic at the news.
By the time she is due, her father has returned from his expedition and quickly takes a liking to Ajax. They would bond over their shared interests as explorers and by the time she gives birth her father has come to view him as the son he never had. When she gives birth, all her family is united around her, with Ajax holding her hands as he murmurs words of comfort and encouragement. She is exhausted but content as she leans into his embrace.
But dawn had been quick to return her to reality, quickly disabusing her of any fantasies where her love alone had been enough to turn Ajax from the darkness. And when she had awoken, fate had left behind a cruel reminder of the very anguish that threatens to cripple her with every waking moment.
The Deaconess clutches the strange hydro vision she had discovered in the folds of her nightgown that very morning as she finally remembers the reason that had driven her to the library in the first place.
"We're here, Barbara," Lisa announces as the carriage pulls into the Gunnhildr estate.
"Lisa," the Deaconess pauses to lick her lips as she shifts to face the older woman. But her words fail her when she tries to speak forcing tears of confusion and frustration to resurface.
"Why don't we head inside?" The Librarian suggests sweetly, taking the distraught songstress by the hand.
Far too disoriented to protest, Barbara follows the scholar indoors where Lady Frederica Gunnhildr greets them in the drawing room.
"Merciful Archons, what on Teyvat has happened to her?"
"I'm not sure, Lady Gunnhildr," Lisa replies with a shrug. "She's been this way since we left the library."
"Frame…vi-vision!" Barbara manages to blurt out before dissolving into a fit of hysterical tears.
"What on Teyvat?" Lady Gunnhildr exclaims clutching her chest as she hurries to her daughter's side. "I shall fetch the doctor at once."
"No! My lady, please no fuss, we just—she needs to rest and I'm worried—"
"Vision from Snezhnaya! It's hydro!"
"My love, please lower your voice—"
"But you don't understand! Decarabian! Lady Gunnhildr!" Barbara screams thoroughly beside herself now.
Lisa and Frederica Gunnhildr catch the now squirming Deaconess and hold her still between them as they guide her towards the drawing room. The songstress stiffens when she notices the scent of a vaguely familiar perfume she recognized from her time in Liyue Harbor.
"Perhaps some tea might help?" Barbara stiffens as she recognizes the pompous lilt of the disembodied speaker as she emerges from the drawing room behind her mother.
"No," the songstress gasps, shaking her head in disbelief as her blue eyes meet the haughty grey eye of the Eighth Harbinger. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no."
"Barbara, you're frightening me!" Lady Frederica states, concern evident in her voice as she presses a palm against her daughter's temple.
But the Fair Lady's presence in her mother's house had shattered what little remained of Barbara's composure as she wrests her arms from their clutches, turning her attention instead to the smirking harbinger.
"Ajax what's happened to him?"
"What? Ajax? What is Ajax?" Lady Frederica asks. When her daughter does not respond, she turns to Lisa instead for answers distracting the Librarian's attention long enough for Signora to close the distance between them.
"She refers to my fiancé," Signora replies. "They met in Liyue and are casually acquainted."
"Oh, I see."
"Why are you here?" Barbara demands, sobbing uncontrollably now as she pulls out the strange vision she had discovered that morning.
While she was only familiar with Liyuean and Fontainian visions, Barbara had caught glimpses of Ajax's hydro vision and fears that its frame resembled the very vision she now held in her hands.
But how did it get here? Who put it in my bed?!
The Eighth Harbinger parts her painted lips to utter some dismissive remark but falters when she finally notices the vision clenched high in Barbara's hand. A flash of rage flickers across the Fair Lady's once-stoic visage, promptly replaced by her usual mask of haughty indifference.
In that moment a simple truth passes between Mondstadt's shining idol and the Tsaritsa's favored envoy. Barbara would never see Ajax alive again.
Author's Note: I've always been fascinated by Decarabian, Old Mondstadt, and the rebellion that began Barbatos' reign.
When I was reading the description of Amos' Bow in-game one day, I got intrigued by Amos and did a little bit of research. I confirmed that Decarabian never reciprocated her love and developed this headcanon that he had been untrue to her and betrayed her love at least once.